Halloween

So we celebrated Halloween at the YWCA with a party. Everyone dressed up and had fun and lots of food. Everyone was really creative with their costumes. We had Charlie's Angels and Bosley...Bossily...however you spell the guy's name, we had Edward Cullen, Jacob Black, and Bella Swann. Kyle Long and Christina "borrowed" some of Kyle and Laura's things and came as them. Becca taped a cereal box and a pirate axe to her stomach and came as a Pun...or "Cereal Killer". I came as a Water Bender from Avatar...I thought it was pretty cool.

We has a pumpkin carving contest. It was really fun and really messy. Stephen Wolcott and I were on a team and we made a pumpkin that we describe as "Innocently Evil". Then we cooked the pumpkin seeds. Our pumpkin didn't win though. The vomiting pumpkin did.

We tied apples from the ceiling and then played two rounds of seeing who could eat most of the apple in a minute. I think I did pretty well. I got several bites out of the thing. There was also a bobbing for potatoes, though potatoes don't float...so it was fun watching Chou and Kyle Lantz soak themselves trying to get the potatoes at the bottom of the bin. Then we had a mummification contest with toilet paper and my group won! Go figure - they mummified me.

After that everyone was tired but some of us played two rounds of Murder before heading out separate ways and eventually going to bed. I had a really fun Halloween and I hope that everyone else did as well.

Happy Halloween!

Fall Break Means LONDON!

So I went to London for Fall Break with several others from the group. Chelsea, Hannah, Michael, Kyle, Christina, Megan, Megann, Kristin, and Stephen Wolcott. I had a really enjoyable time but I have the same feeling towards London as I do about New York City. I love it to visit it - could never live there.

We went on a double decker tour on the hop-on-hop-off buses and saw many things like Trafalgar Square, Tower of London, London Bridge, Tower Bridge, Fleet Street, the square where all the big movies open in London, and much more. We walked a lot and Kyle, Christina and I also went into the largest Chinatown outside of China.

The first night we were there all of us went to see the West End Lion King at the Lycuem Theatre. That was really fun. It was a little different from the Broadway as there were some songs added into it but they fit very well into the play and it was AMAZING. Really. My dream is to see Phantom of the Opera at Her Majesty's Theatre...we went by that on the double decker bus.

Christina, Kyle, and I walked around a lot. We saw the outside of the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral (where Christina and I saw Feed the Birds on the steps), Big Ben, and Parliment. Then we met up with Kristin, Megann, Chelsea, and Michael at Piccadilly Circus and Chelsea went to meet Hannah for a concert and the rest of us tried to make our way to Baker Street to catch the bus that would take us back to the airport. We ended up walked 3 hours in the pouring rain and everything basically got soaked. The inside of our backpacks and even our clothes under the raincoats were wet.

Then we slept on the cold floor of the airport. Not fun. But a great story to tell.

But we're home now. And we're all excited about it. Fall Break was fun but there's nothing like coming home.

Grace

This is just a little story I wrote after listening to the song "Grace"

The chapel was dimly lit.

            My whole life I had pictured my wedding day. What young girl doesn’t? My dream wedding would take place in St. Patrick’s Cathedral; my dress would be pure white with a long train and a veil that fell to the floor. I would be holding white irises and red roses as my father walked me down the aisle as the large pipe organ played the Wedding March; and my husband would be waiting for me at the end of the aisle, smiling lovingly at me. And we would marry and live happily ever after until the Lord called us to Glory from our beds in old age.

            None of that would ever happen.

            My childhood childish dreams would never come true.

            And somehow that didn’t bother me.

            Joseph stood in front of the altar, pale and thin. He turned as I approached and his dark eyes became alive upon seeing me. He gave me an encouraging smile. Such a brave looking smile.

            Such a brave man.

            I came to the front and Joseph took my hand. My hand felt so small compared to his.

            “Are you ready?” he asked.

            “Yes,” I replied. My voice sounded so small, so weak. Why? My voice was one of my strong suits. But now, my throat felt clogged and it was hard to emit sound.

            Joseph turned to the priest.

            “We’re ready.”

            The ceremony was simply and quick. No long lectures on the holiness of marriage, no long readings of Bible passages. Just the basic skeleton of the service with Holy Communion.

            The moment our bands were about our fingers, the guards quickly removed Joseph from the chapel and I was left standing alone. The priest took me by the arm and led me out of the gaol. I thought of calling for a taxi but the man insisted that he drive me home. I was grateful.

            At home I sat staring out the window for a long time, my prayer book in my lap. I would never see my Joseph again. The pain was almost too much. I looked at the clock. 1:00am. I went to bed.

            The bell ringing brought me out of my light slumber and I went down to answer the door. A guard was standing out on the steps. He had a note. A note requesting my presence one last time at Kilmainham. I went back inside and threw on the dress the same dress that I had married in. Then I followed the guard out to a waiting car and he took me back to the ugly gaol and to the cell where my husband was. I entered and saw Joseph lying on the bed. My husband sat up upon seeing me.

            My husband.

            “Ten minutes,” the guard told us. The door was open and several guards stood watch over us. What did they expect us to do in ten minutes?

            “Grace.”

            “Joseph.”

            He touched my face. My lips, my eyes, my nose. He reached out and pulled my hair down, running his fingers through my locks.

            Eight minutes.

            “I love you, Grace,” Joseph told me. “I did…all this because – I want you to know…I want you to know liberty.”

            “I know.” I answered. But did I? I ran my fingers through his hair. He leaned forward and our foreheads touched.

            Six minutes.

            “I love you too, Joseph,” I murmured. “I just…I wish we just had more time.”

            “I know, dear. I know.”

            Did he know?

            I looked into his eyes. Yes – he knew.

            He gathered me into his arms and held me in a bruising grip. My own arms snaked around his thin waist. He tightened his grip and in my ear I could hear him hum The Fields of Athenrye.

            Fitting.

            Four minutes.

            Tears pooled in my eyes. To only have him for four more minutes was breaking my heart.

            It wouldn’t hurt so much if he were to go to Australia.

            Those times were gone. He wasn’t.

            Two minutes.

            “I’m sorry, Grace,” Joseph murmured, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more – but I gave everything.”

            I nodded. My throat was clogged again and I couldn’t form words. Even if I could, I didn’t know what to say.

            “Times up.” The guard’s voice penetrated our short tranquility and suddenly I found my lips captured by Joseph’s in a passionate, bruising show of love and devotion. I kissed him back with the same passion and devotion.

            “That’s enough!”

            Joseph broke away and we stared at each other for a second before Joseph stood and allowed himself to be handcuffed. He looked at me.

            “I gave everything for you. For Ireland. You – Grace – are Ireland, and I love you.”

            “I love you too.”

            Joseph was dragged from the cell and I was brought back to the front of the gaol. The guard stood watching me as I stood looking upwards…waiting for the inevitable.

            Somewhere I thought I heard shots.

            The black flag was raised.

            “Was it really worth it?” the guard sneered. I stared at the black flag for a moment longer before turning a cool gaze upon the guard. The British guard.

            “You will never understand,” I told him, “but everything was worth it.”

            I turned. I walked away.

            A wife.

            A widow.

            An Irish.

Kilmainham Gaol

If one ever wants new perspectives...go to Kilmainham Gaol.

I thought of leaving it there to see what people thought. But I decided not to.

Kilmainhan Gaol...was something else. All my thoughts began to whirl about my head as I listened to the tour guide tell us things that we had heard and studied, but to hear those stories again and to see where these stories took place...it made everything so much more real.

Have you ever stopped to think about the American Revolution? We all know the story and if you are an American and don't...something's wrong. But in school as young children we are taught that it was a bloody, yet glorious thing to fight the evil British to gain our freedoms and independence. No one ever really stopped to mention to us that we were really rebels. Rebels. That's not a word people like to hear. It's a word that brings about horrible images of riots and overthrown governments and lost lives.

But that's exactly what we were. Rebels.

And so were the men in Kilmainham Gaol.

The Irish were so ecstatic when America gained independence from Britain, the world's powerhouse. They thought - If American can do it, why can't we? So in 1798 they had a rebellion. It failed. People died. People suffered. A girl named Anne who was friends with people heading up that rebellion was taken as prisoner and put in darkness for 2 1/2 years in the basement of Kilmainham, her mind toyed and played with - her eight year old brother brought in and he eventually died from his ill-treatment, but still Anne would not ever give up her friends who had fought to try and free the country that she loved so dearly. And even when she was released she could not go to said friends for help for the British were trailing her so she died alone.

But she staid silent.

And from there the Irish were constantly trying to rise above and do better for themselves. But the famine hit. People were starving because even though all the other crops grown in Ireland were successful, all of those were being shipped out of the country in order to feed others. People had no idea where their next meal was coming from. Unless they were in gaol. In gaol one got fed three times a day.

People were desperate.

Kilmainham was one of the places that people went in order to eat.

And finally in 1916 on Easter Monday some very brave men - rebels much like us Americans - got together to try and win their country the freedom it deserved. They took over buildings in Dublin, had around 1600 volunteers helping them, and took over the GPO (General Post Office) on what is now O'Connell Street and made that their headquarters. From there they read the proclamation. But you know what?

The Irish weren't really behind them.

They had been at peace and the Great War was going on so why stir up trouble?

Eventually 20,000 British troops defeated the 1600 and the leaders surrendered and were taken to Kilmainham Gaol where they were court-marshalled and sentences to death.

And that is when things began to change.

William Pearse was one of those executed. He had fought beside his brother, but he wasn't really an important person within the whole plan of the rebellion. He was the younger brother of P.H. Pearse, the face of the rebellion. He was brought to the gaol under the assumption that he was going to visit with his brother but when he arrived he heard the gunshots that were fired as his brother was being executed. William was taken prisoner, tried, and sentenced to death.

Just for being the brother of P.H. Pearse.

James Connolly was shot in the leg during the rebellion. The wound was infected. He was going to die anyway so why execute him? General Maxwell, the British soldier sent to stop the rebellion, said he would resign from his post if James Connolly was not executed. So James Connolly was brought to the walled courtyard of Kilmainham by ambulance. He couldn't walk so it was decided his spot of execution would be beside the main door. He couldn't stand because of his leg, so a chair was brought. He was so weak he couldn't sit up properly so he was tied to the chair.

Then shot.

What a mistake.

No one liked that. Not even people over in England. His death helped get the Irish firmly on the side of the rebels when before not many were on their side.

Joseph Mary Plunkett. His story is a story right out of a book. But it's real. That's what makes it so heartbreaking. He was sick so he wasn't really going to live for very long anyway. He was going to marry Grace Gifford but he was called to the rebellion first. He was captured and it was decided that he and Grace could marry in the chapel of Kilmainham. They could not speak any words to each other but that of their vows, the guards witnessed the wedding and the whole time guns were pointed at Plunkett. Once they were married Plunkett was taken back to his cell and Grace had to leave. Hours later in the early morning Grace was called back to Kilmainham where she was given ten minutes with her husband. A band of guards watched from the doorway and one even had a pocket watch to count down the minutes. Once the ten minutes were up Grace was taken away from the gaol and hours later her husband was executed.

The next day her brother-in-law, another leader of the rebellion, was executed.

There are so many more stories that one could tell but these are the ones that are remembered, the ones that rallied the Irish into standing up and taking control.

As I stood there in Kilmainham Gaol my thoughts went from the Irish to the Americans.

What would have happened if we had lost?

Obviously the great men we think of as the Fathers of Our Nation would have been executed: George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, John Hancock, Thomas Jefferson...to name but a few. But would a younger sibling been executed just for being the younger sibling to one of them? Would one of them - wounded and dying - still have been executed?

These are questions that we will never know and I thank God that we will never know those answers. That we will never have to feel the pain that the Irish felt upon the injustices that were given to these men. These rebels.

After all - they were still human.

And from then there sparked the Irish War of Independence and from that their Civil War. But in it they began to find out exactly who they were - what their country was capable of.

So now all I can do is sit back and think over the day and praise God that America did not have to fight several rebellions in order to gain freedom. Granted we were a good fifty day's journey from England, but still. We too were rebels and we too would have suffered the Rebel Consequences. But we prevailed. We won.

I'm not exactly sure what I'm trying to say. Maybe I'm just rambling thoughts. All I know is that I have a deeper respect now - not just for the Irish - but for my forefathers. These Rebels that knew that they were rebellion and knew that if everything collapsed that they would die.

To those in Ireland they look back upon these brave rebels of the Easter Rising of 1916 and they stand proud and say "I'm proud to be Irish."

I look back to those brave rebels of the American Revolution and I stand proud and say "I'm proud to be an American."

Muckross House, Inch Beach, and Gallarus Oratory

Muckross House was built in the late 1700s to early 1800s. For six years it was renovated for a two night stay by Queen Victoria. She came staid at the house around the start of the American Civil War. It was a very nice house on a lake but we weren't allowed to take photos inside so a lot of the pictures I have are from the outside. Also, the cool thing is, is that the Muckross House is an exact replica of one of the manors in one of my stories - except smaller. This just excites me to absolutely no end!

After Muckross we went to Inch Beach and learned how to play Rugby!!!!!! It's so much better than American Football even though it's a lot rougher (I think). It was so much fun to play and I didn't even care when people tackled me. I usually do. But we played Rugby the whole time we were there and got covered in a lot of sand.

After that we went to Gallarus Oratory with its low-budget ten minutes video presentation which was the highlight of the whole trip to the Oratory. It's basically a church that is supposedly the oldest church in Ireland between 1200-900 years old and it hasn't been destroyed through all the years of warfare and it is still waterproof. It's built east to west so that the rising sun goes through the solitary window and the setting sun goes through the door. Other than that it wasn't an overly interesting place.

Skellig Michael

Sometimes, depending on the weather, people can't get out to the skelligs since you have to go like 9-12 miles by boat but we were able to get out to Skellig Michael. Skellig Michael is a rocky island off the coast of Ireland in the Atlantic Ocean found by St. Fionan (or at least that is who historians think founded it) around the 6th century. Monks wanted to live a life of seclusion and putting yourself out on a rock 12 miles into the ocean sounded like a very good way to isolate oneself. Very little is known about the history of Skellig Michael, it's mentioned several times in books and logs in places around Ireland. In 490 AD it is said that the King of West Munster (in Ireland) named Duach took refuge on the skellig when he was being chased by King of Cashel. In 812 and 823 AD Norse raided the island and those records are found int eh Annals of Ulster. in 956 AD Olaf Trygveson was supposedly baptized on the skellig before leaving to introduce Christianity to Norway. (Rachael thinks that there's a Veggie Tales version of this out somewhere which might be worth looking into). After the Skelligs were abandoned, people began to pilgramage to them and eventually a taxation was placed on that pilgrimage. It was 20 shillings to go up to the church on the skellig and 13 shillings and 4 pence to just get out to the rock. In 1538 Henry VIII dissolved all monasteries but historians believe that the skelligs had been abandoned by then, and eventually a merchant named Richard Harding came to own the skelligs and called it the Ballinskellig Estate.

Anyway, we did manage to get to Skellig Michael. The waves were huge swells, huger than what I am used to so in the last ten or so minutes of the ride I was slightly queasy though I did not throw up for which I am thankful.

Skellig Michael basically looked out of the ocean. From the boat it seemed to rise up from the Atlantic and the mist like some sort of beast lurking about, waiting for us and when we left it, it stood there in stony silence (no pun intended) until it simply disappeared once again into the shrouding mist.

Skellig Michael just made me feel very poetic.

On the skellig we had to climb up some really stepp stairs that the monks carved intot he rock. Once we made it to the top we were able to explore part of the monastery that remains, which includes two chapels and several beehived shaped cells that use (what I call) Puzzle Piece Archtitecture since no mortar was used to build them and the cells are still relatively waterproof.

There was also a gravestone marking the graves of two young boys who died out on the skellig when their father was lighthouse keeper back in the 1800s.

The whole thing was amazing. It was as if you had stepped into a different world, as if you weren't on Earth...really truly amazing.
We had a late BBQ lunch. It had begun to raid when we got back to the mainland so we drove a bit looking for shelter to cook our food but couldn't find any so we stopped on the side of the road and hamburgers were cooked inside the trunk of the bus. Kyle Long got me my hamburger. That was nice...he and Ryan both decided that they would get soaked to the skin in order for us girls to stay dry.

The Dunbrody, Queenstown, and Blarney Castle

On Wednesday we left the YWCA at 8:30 am and travelled to New Ross to see one of the famine ships or coffin ships. We learned from our bus driver, Brian, that many Irish people dislike it when the famine is referred to as The Famine - rather - they like to refer to it as the Great Hunger since only the potato crop failed and Ireland grows many other food crops. The only reason so many people died was because all the other food was being exported out of the country and the British weren't doing anything to help the starving Irish people who depending on the potatoes for their own food.
Anyway, the boat was the Dunbrody which was supposedly one of the better ships to get onto if one was going across the ocean. Our tickets for the tour were replicas of the real tickets that passengers would have gotten back in the 1800s and the names that were on the tickets were actual names of real passengers who traveled on the Dunbrody. I was Sarah Redmond age 32 with a husband named James age 26, and two little boys William and John ages 2 and 1.

On the ship we were shown the First Class cabins that were worth 25 pounds (an acre of land was 5 pounds) and the Steerage Cabin where everyone else slept. Families shared one bunk with their belongings and singles shared bunks with other singles and their belongings. The top bunks were thought to be the best because if you were on the bottom bunk and the person above you got sea sick and didn't make it to the bucket in time...the stuff eventually sunk through the boards to the bunk below. Just my luck my family had a bottom bunk. Hopefully Kendahl doesn't get sea sick...her person bunked above my family.
The Steerage Cabins were 8 pounds and each family got weekly rations that had to be cooked over one of two fires up on deck during the 30 minutes a day that the Steerage passengers were allowed up on deck. You can imagine the disease and smell that came about in that place.

After that we went to Queenstown which was the last port of call for most famine ships, the Titanic, and it was the port that the Lusitania survivors were brought to. Outside the Queenstown Museum, there is a statue of Annie Moore and her two brothers. Annie Moore was the first person to cross Ellis Island as an immigrant. Also (supposedly) two Germans were ahead of her and her brothers but someone suggested that the "lady and her children" go first. She also got $100 dollars for being first which in those days would have been a fortune.
No one really knows what happened to Annie or her brothers in America.

After Queenstown we went to Blarney Castle and we climbed all the way to the top of the castle to kiss the Blarney Stone that will (supposedly) give the kisser eloquence of speech. Like any of us in the group need more eloquence of speech.
Then we went and explored the castle and the grounds. We saw the Dolmen which is a rock structure with a little passage underneath it and it is thought to be an ancient portal into another world. Well...I am still here. I did not find Narnia through that portal.
We also saw the Wishing Steps. It is said that if you can go up and down the steps with your eyes closed thinking of nothing but your wish it will be granted. After the steps was the Witch's Kitchen. It is said that if you come to the kitchen in the early morning then you can see the dying embers of her fire because she comes out of the Witch's Stone at night (which is near the kitchen), but that during the day, the witch is stuck within the stone.

After that came the Druid Stones and the Sacrificial Alter. Chelsea had fun pretending to sacrifice me.
Then the last thing was the Fairy Glade which was so cute with tons of flowers.
Oh - and there was a Poison Garden at Blarney that grew poisonous/dangerous plants. That was pretty cool.
We also saw the Blarney House which is just a Victorian house on the property. By we I mean: Jeffry, Michael, Becca, Chelsea, and me.