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Tuesday, July 21st, 2009

I am in the mood for Irish music this week so have just posted two more songs: “The Rising of the Moon,” and “Mrs. McGrath.”

You will see that a lot of traditional Irish ballads have “war and turmoil” at their center. It is heartening to know that I come from a sturdy race who were not afraid to stand up for themselves.

When I posted the term “Fighting Irish,” yesterday, Jim had to look that up. He found a number of references including current sports teams, especially the football team at Notre Dame. Other references include the Irish regiments who held back General Robert E. Lee’s forces at one of the major Civil War battles. It is speculated that Lee himself gave them the name, based on their ferocious and brave fighting, no holds barred.

The etymology of words and terms is most interesting and I provide that knowledge, whenever I come across it, as you will see in another of these Irish music files.

If anyone has any photos of Ireland that they can legally share with me, please send them to and I will add them to these music files. I would especially appreciate landscapes, seascapes, and photos of architecture.

Enjoy!

Happy to be Irish,

Patricia Cummings

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Monday, July 20th, 2009

They call the Irish “the Fighting Irish.” There is a reason for that, and if you look at Irish History, you will find that Irish Music is very much linked to oppression by the English, religious disputes, and the rich v. the poor subsistence farmers. The great discrepancy comes between the industrialized North and the agricultural Republic of Ireland.

I grew up viewing the videos on television of school children throwing rocks at other kids of a different religious persuasion. It is clear to understand that hatred in ingrained by parents and passed from generation to generation.

Well, between yesterday and today, I have recorded two Irish songs, “e,” and “.” In both, I do not use an instrument other than my own voice because I want you to hear the words clearly.

I have much more to learn about Ireland but my studies of it so far have been enlightening and grand. Let me remind you of an exhibit of that we saw and photographed for a few years ago, when they were shown at the Craftadventures Show in Springfield, Massachusetts, along with many Irish-themed crafts. It was a delight to be able to see what Irish women are making today.

“… and still I’m on my way,”

Patricia Cummings

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Tuesday, March 17th, 2009

vintage St. Patrick's day postcard

When I think of anything “Irish,” the remembrance of Irish tunes I heard while growing up, come to mind. My father loved to sing Irish songs, partly because he was a charming man, and partly to irritate my mother who was not Irish. He would wake up, with a tune on his lips, that was hard for her to take before her second cup of coffee.

“Oh, Do You Know the Muffin Man, the Muffin Man, the Muffin Man? Oh, Do You Know the Muffin Man who Lives in Drury Lane?” – was a favorite tune, as was any song sung by Burl Ives who was popular, at the time. Of course, the Clancy Brothers were a favorite in our home and they seemed to have hit “the big time” in the 1960s. “Oh, Danny Boy,” is a plaintive, perennial favorite, with its haunting melody and words.

Dad was known to break into song with “The Wearin’ o’ The Green,” another favorite tune. He would have loved “Riverdance,” and “Celtic Woman.” There are many terrific Irish song and dance artists, it seems, but we, in America, only hear of the big names who have money to bring their music and dance to us.

A very enjoyable book that provided many insights to me about Irish Culture is the novel, muscle milk pills. Before reading the book, I had no idea what “banshees” were.

I love the folklore of Ireland, the lush green fields, the secret mysteries hidden in peat bogs of men who lived long ago, the Druids, etc. I like limericks and Leprechauns, and I still hope to find the pot o’ gold at the end of the rainbow. My ancestors lived in the County of Kilkenny.

Yesterday, I received a copy of the premier issue of muscle milk pills magazine. The part I liked the best was a photo of “Molly Malone,” a celebrated Dublin fishmonger about whom I sing, in the traditional song, “s.”

The magazine is very muscle milk pills, featuring American designers to some extent, inasmuch as Ireland does not seem to have a longstanding (separate, country) quilting tradition that was developed, traditionally-speaking. Patchwork quilting seems to be just “catching on” there. There are some beautiful quilts in that issue, including quilts by Americans, Ricky Tims, and Pat Sloan. We look forward to seeing future copies of this magazine.

In the meantime, wear green, and celebrate St. Patrick’s Day today! On this day, everyone is Irish!

Slainte,

Patricia Cummings

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Monday, March 17th, 2008

my grandson

Grandson, Patrick, celebrating St. Patrick’s Day 2008.

Today is a day to celebrate the Irish and the Emerald Isle. There is much to be said about the Irish, a land that has been ravaged by the rule of despotic outsiders who plundered and abused; a land that is full of charm because of its music, its beauty, and the loving hearts of those who live there now, or whose ancestors came to America, in desperation, seeking honest work and a day’s pay.

St. Patrick brought Christianity to Ireland in 432 and proselytized until his death in 460 by which time he had converted all of Ireland from paganism. He did not realize that centuries later, Protestants and Catholics would murder each other, in the name of religion. The Celts, early dwellers of Ireland, have left a lasting impact on the country. Some of those people, now believed to have been criminals, were killed and buried in peat bogs, presumably so that they would suffer an endless Purgatory, somewhere between earth and sky. Today, their bodies are being found and they are well preserved due to the chemicals in the sphagnum moss. Scientists can examine their long tresses and determine from hair follicles what they ate, over time. In these kinds of tests, we are learning more about the early people of Ireland.

Wonderful Irish leprachaun cookies and a few bunnies, made by my niece, Amy DeNoble and her daughters. Leprachauns were considered, traditionally, to be grouchy as they had to repair everyone’s shoes.

I prefer to think of the enchantment of leprechauns and folklore of Ireland, the pot o’ gold at the end of the rainbow, and “kissing the Blarney Stone.” I dwell on Irish humor, a humor that sometimes has its roots in pain. Sometimes, one has to laugh, because in beginning to cry, the tears would fill a river. Like one Irish aunt of mine was fond of saying, while throwing up her hands, “What can you do?”

This was the same aunt who would ask visitors if they would like a cup of tea. Going to the cupboard, she would find no tea. She’d ask, “Would a cup of coffee do?” Going to the cupboard, she’d find no coffee, too. With nothing else suitable to be found, we’d either settle for nothing, or know, next time, to bring our own refreshments. For many Irish, for many years, the cupboards were always virtually bare. Potatoes were the main fare, and disaster hit with the Potato Famine of the 1800s, causing mass exodus from Ireland.

I can only dream of Ireland and County Kilkenny, land of my ancestors. When I think of Ireland, in color, that color is green. Of course, there is the Irish shamrock, its three petals symbolizing the Holy Trinity. There are the green fields of Ireland, immortalized in song and representing the four sectors, one of which is primarily Protestant and English in the industrialized north. “Four Green Fields,” a song written by the late Tommy Makem commemorates this bit of Irish history.
On St. Patrick’s Day, some people celebrate by drinking green beer. Not being a drinker, that would not be me. Nor will I enjoy any (dry) Irish soda bread, nor briny corned beef.

Today, I hope to find time to listen to some of my favorite songs including one hilarious one that includes the statement about a “dearie” – “pulling ‘them’ up and pulling them down and forgot to pull down the shade.” I’ll have to listen to the song again to remember the context of the statement. To me, it presents a funny image. Oh, what is life without humor? I would hate to know!

Whether you bake a cake and add green frosting, croon an Irish tune, or watch a St. Patrick’s Day parade … or even make an Irish quilt today … have fun! Even if you are not Irish, you can still have fun! And, for heaven’s sake, whether you are getting dressed or undressed, please remember to pull down the shade! Erin Go Bragh!

Patricia Cummings

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Sunday, August 5th, 2007

The name, Tommy Makem, has become synonymous with Irish music. The sad news came on August 2, 2007, that the Dover, New Hampshire resident has passed away after a lengthy bout with lung cancer. The singer, songwriter, guitarist, who was born in Ireland, was a popular performer, and a part of the Clancy Brothers Band in the 1950s and 1960s.

His most poignant song, that touched my heart, is one that I recall hearing as a teenager. “Four Green Fields” tells the story of Ireland itself, divided into the Catholic and Protestant sections. The songwriter tells the story through the eyes of a mother. At the end of the song she says this: “But my sons have sons, as brave as were there fathers/ And my four green fields, will bloom once again, said she.”

New Hampshire fans, and Irish people everywhere, have lost a great spokesman and a true and gentle artist.

We are blessed by people who share their talents with us, in this relatively short expanse of time that we call “life.” Tommy’s life and music will live on through the work of his sons, who have formed their own musical group called the Makem Brothers. We cannot let this moment pass without acknowledging the loss of a great person, who led by example.
To read more details and/or to view about Tommy, please visit WMUR Channel 9 News online for a summary of Tommy Makem’s life. We have lost a treasure.

– These quilts are either made by Irish women or are about Ireland.

Pat

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Tuesday, March 13th, 2007

This morning, we set up a new file entitled, “Irish Quilts.” I wax nostalgic whenever I think of Ireland, although I have never been there. When my father was living, he mentioned that his family was from County Kilkenny. God willing, I shall be able to visit Ireland one day.

In the meantime, I honor my patron saint, St. Patrick. I think of leprechauns, the Blarney Stone (which I’ve not yet kissed), and the “banshees.” I envision thatched roof homes, and castles, and peat bogs, and green, green meadows offset by stone wall fences. In my mind’s eye, I can see azure blue sky that sometimes matches the color of the sea.

The Ireland of my thoughts is a peaceful place, a somewhat melancholy place, and an historically important place. Many Americans today can claim Irish descent, mainly due to the mass emigration to America during the potato famine of the early nineteenth century.

For now, I can look at Ireland, in books. I can sing a few Irish songs, like the ones I learned from my father, that I have recently added to Quilter’s Muse Song Playlist. The Irish have produced many songs, complete with a few words or verses in Gaelic, and some of which are about the tragedies of war, and the fighting spirit of rebellion, both situations well known to the Irish.

Well, today’s added file is not about any of those issues. Quilts are the topic. I hope that you enjoy seeing a few of the special exhibit, invitational quilts sent by the Irish Patchwork Society that were photographed at the Craftadventure Show in Massachusetts in 2005.

In addition, we have added the photo image of an exceptionally beautiful quilt that, no doubt, means a lot to its maker. Much consideration went into the completion of that blue-ribbon winner that was displayed at the Mancuso International Show in 2006.

Enjoy the file!

Patricia (Grace) Cummings

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Friday, January 12th, 2007

A few weeks ago, there was a music special on television which featured an Irish tenor. When he sang, in the background were the hills and valleys of the Emerald Isle. I feel blessed to claim an Irish heritage, through my Dad’s family. I would love to go to Ireland sometime. Moreover, I find the Irish people charming, devout, playful with language, and a most sincere lot.

Of course, the American stereotype for the Irish is a very different picture, that of a “mick,” a drunk, or a ne’er do well.

One thing I know is that the Irish have a lot of gumption and lot of bravery and a long history of standing up to despots who would take all that they have and leave them to starve. During the potato famine, starve they did. How strange to live in such a beautiful place and yet, historically, to be persecuted, particularly because of one’s brand of faith.

I grew up with Irish music and with Irish blessings such as, “May The Road Rise Up To Meet You, May The Wind Be Always At Your Back, May the Sun Shine Bright Upon Your Fields, and Until We Meet Again, May God Hold You In The Palm of His Hands.”

A more recent, “Irish?” thought goes like this:

“Let those who love us, love us.
And those who don’t love us,
May God turn their hearts.

And if He doesn’t turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So that we may know them by their limping.” – anonymous

What a thought! Wouldn’t it be nice if we knew our enemies by such an easy manner?

St. Patrick’s Day is coming up in March. While I will not drink green beer, I will recall my father with great fondness, and all the lessons he taught me, leading by his strong example of goodness and faith. I do believe that he enjoyed irritating or otherwise teasing my mother, a gal of Southern origins who had been transplanted to the north. Any time he wanted to get her goat (or her attention), he would call her “Lizzie,” as in “Lizz-uh,” or would croon Irish ballads in her presence. At least she would pretend to be put out. So much for reminiscing. I am pleased that my grandson has the strong Irish name of Patrick James, both names that are within the family genealogy.

‘Til we meet again, watch out for the banshees, look for shamrocks, and don’t kiss the Blarney Stone.
Patricia