Words
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Read Eugene Adams' 'Letters from Home', 15 touching, open letters from late '96 to early '99. 
Curiosities of Connemaraby Michael GibbonsConnemara is bounded on three sides by the Atlantic and encompasses a wide variety of natural and semi-natural habitats, reflecting its great geomorphologic and geological complexity. It also has diverse economic resources. Among the more unusual are extensive deposits of soapstone and veins of green marble and vivid white quartz. The green marble was traded as far away as Lough Gur, Co. Limerick, and possibly to the Boyne Valley in Neolithic times. Commuter Science 7by Ralph LavelleThe day I made my first proto-DVD was a good one. Just seeing my scrappy holiday footage come up on the TV, being read and played by my new Sony DVD player was a real thrill. By this time I realized I had developed a serious DVD fetish, and wouldn't touch movies on video cassettes any more. Same with music: it's got to be MP3s on a CD for me now - no more cassette tapes, thanks. I know that's irrational and stupid, but you've got to throw yourself into these projects with complete love and abandon or you'll go mad with all the nuts and bolts gotchas that come with the territory. Commuter Science 6by Ralph LavelleIn Tim Robinson's 'A Connemara Fractal', from his fascinating 'Setting Foot on the Shores of Connemara' collection, the weird science of fractals is brought down to the familiar shoreline of Connemara. In typical fashion, Tim makes you think about something you pass every day in a new way. He foots ideas out of the turf, then manipulates the conceptual sod like a Rubik's cube. I'm a fanboy, as they say in the world of Japanese videogaming. Person in Profile - Linda O'Malleyby Ben Crow"I'm very interested in the technical side of the radio and although I love editing recorded interviews. At first, I didn't think of myself as an interviewer. I actually did no presenting at all - until Mary Ruddy made me!" This is how Station Manager, Linda O'Malley, described her reluctant broadcasting debut for Connemara Community Radio. Still preferring to be at the controls in the studio rather than behind the microphone, Linda has conquered her stage fright and now features regularly in the radio schedules. Person in Profile - Michael Gibbonsby Ben Crow“I grew up on the streets of Clifden. I say that because in those days we kids lived out in the streets. Most people have now moved out of the town and it’s become more of a commercial base. But back then, all the buildings that are now just shops were houses as well. Every family seemed to have seven or more children – I am the middle child of seven myself. It was an amazingly social thing too, everyone knew everyone else and their business. There were very few cars and you could spend all day safely just out in the street.” Commuter Science 4by Ralph LavelleWe, as a species, are on the cusp of greatness. I'm talking about video. Making your own videos, sticking them on your own websites, creating and distributing your own cds or dvds. This year I'm a video evangelist. I'm bustin' with enthusiasm for the desktop video revolution quietly changing the old world order and I demand that you feel the same excitement that I feel. Well, what's the alternative? Apathy, disinterest, denial, diagnosis, funeral arrangements, a speech and a meal. Commuter Science 3by Ralph LavelleThe strength of the web is, in cases like this, also its weakness - that anyone can 'publish' material on any subject, and present it as expert and impartial, with no peer review or disinterested critical disclaimers. It made me think of my own website (www.Connemara.net), and also of other Connemara sites. Not that there's anything the slightest bit contentious on any local websites I can think of, if you ignore the usual marketingese ('the best view of the Bens', 'award-winning guesthouse', 'friendliest welcome you'll get anywhere...'). Which is a shame - all we seem to be able to use the most exciting new medium in a generation for is to sell ourselves. Person in Profile - Marie Feeneyby Ben Crow"It was a very emotional evening, though," said Marie Feeney, recalling the launch of her recently completed book, 'The Cleggan Bay Disaster'. "There were over seven hundred people in the Station House Hotel that night. Many of them were relatives of those who perished and of those who survived. It was actually the first time they'd all been together in the same room in seventy five years. Their grief was expressed through poems and songs written at the time of the disaster - and the launch of my book seemed to provide a sense of closure for those affected." Kate O'Toole - Best Actress 2001by Ben Crow"You know, people here don't really know what I do! I could probably count the number of people who've actually seen my work on the fingers of one hand," said Kate, as we sat drinking coffee on a sofa in the house that she proudly described as having once been her grandmother's. Living on the Sky Road, just outside Clifden, Kate O'Toole is justly proud of her recent British Arts Council Barclay's Theatre Award. Commuter Science 2by Ralph LavelleBut wait a minute - doesn't Connemara also have its own region in space? The Connemara region of Europa - one of the moons of Jupiter - is so named because its chaotic beauty reminded the wife of the NASA team leader of their stay in the wesht. This is perfect. This brings it back home. Commuter Science 1by Ralph LavelleAnyone who chooses the commuter lifestyle signs up for a quixotic struggle against nature, against the particle, betrayed by the greasy peddlers of Bluetooth, WAP, and other frictionless myths. Half a world away from my desk, I clutch my computer goodies anxiously to my breast. In a sense, have I even left home? How far have I commuted? What am I even talking about? An Ancient History of Connemara.Netby Ralph LavelleThe summer of '95 was a hot one. The fact that it was our (me and Gav's) first season running the gallery in Clifden turned up the heat a bit more for us. I tried staying in every second night, but the ghosts in the old house and the buzz from the street kept driving me into the bosom of the crowd. "Your second year you'll spend getting rid of the friends you made the first year", was my uncle Rory's advice. Kafka - Alive and Well in Connemaraby Ralph LavelleI have recently seen a few get-togethers and conversations with close friends and acquaintances dominated by the subject of building a house and planning permission, and witnessed a real sense of frustration and dismay among what I consider to be reasonable people. Down Under Uploaderby Ralph LavelleAn account, personal and technical, of swanning off to Australia for 3 months while trying not to kiss goodbye to my web business... 'Truelight' Adventuringby Ita KaneI had the opportunity to go sailing on the Truelight, now anchored in Roundstone pier. Built in the early 1920s, Truelight is the last of the famous Claddagh Hookers. Surfing in Connemaraby Jason FoyleConnemara folk and coastal dwelling peoples in general have always had a deep-rooted respect for the sea. Much of this has been born of fear and superstition surrounding its awesome destructive power and changeable nature, so that until recently strong swimmers were few and far between. So much has been taken from the sea that if once in a while she wants something of someone in return, so be it. Roaming Across Europeby Ralph LavelleIf you are a web developer who wants to learn about the burgeoning, much-hyped field of WAP-based internet services, then you'd be a sucker not to bring your new Nokia 7110 WAP mobile phone abroad with you if you went to, say, Greece. E-commerce as Usualby Ralph LavelleRemember when the web was weird? I remember the excitement I felt four-and-a-half years ago, in June '95, when my cousin Robert Joyce showed Gavin and me the world wide web from his home in Recess. A Wet Weekend in Connemara, Part 1by Sean HartnettLast autumn, having just quit my job, I needed to get into the countryside to clear my head. Living as I did at the time in Galway City the obvious destination was west, into Connemara - Ireland's land of mountains and water. So, I gathered up my walking gear and hitched on a whim from Galway to Oughterard, the starting point of the Western Way. Letter from Home 15by Eugene AdamsDo you remember that rhyme to be said when you see a magpie? I mentioned it to Gerry the other day, and she reminded me of the custom of "saluting the magpie." She said -- explaining that she isn't superstitious, of course -- that if she sees only one magpie, she gives him a courteous salute, because that will keep the sorrow off. Letter from Home 14by Eugene AdamsRemember how I used to write a "Letter From Home" for the Clifden web site? I left off more than a year ago -- I guess I felt more reflective and less like talking, for a while, and this fitted in very well with being out on my bike, and spending an afternoon or evening trying my luck with the fly rod. Lately I've also spent some time reading over Emily Dickinson, and this has gotten me interested in writing these letters again. Letter from Home 13by Eugene AdamsWhat has been particularly on my mind over the past month is the new proposal for an air facility in the Roundstone Bog, which I'm sure you've been thinking about yourselves. I decided to send a letter to the Minister, and that will also be my letter to you for now. Letter from Home 12by Eugene AdamsIt's nearly the shortest day of the year now, and even on a clear day there isn't much light. From the sitting room window you're looking to the southeast, to the ridge line that runs above the river from Dooneen to the bay, and the sun now rises at Dooneen and barely stays clear of the ridge line before it sinks again just behind the bit of hill above the O'Halloran's house. Hillwalking Journalby Ralph Lavelle14/12/'97: I want to walk. So I'm here at Derryinver pier, north-west Connemara, at the foot of Tully Mountain, waiting for the last of the Beanna Beola Walkers (Na Beanna Beola is Irish for Beola's peaks - the Twelve Bens.) to turn up. It's mild, but December is December and you've got to move around a little. They've got rusted railway sleepers on the edge of the quay to stop you rolling your Pajero or Cortina into Derryinver Bay. Keeping the Flameby Tom LydenI always wonder about things - Like what do batteries run on - Or why is the alphabet in that order? Letter from Home 11by Eugene AdamsWinter begins for us November 1st, All Saints Day. The hills and bog have turned a red brown now, but the Bens still throw back the light from their bare rock. There are only a few visitors in town. Most people have more time to see friends and talk, and there are table quizzes in the pubs. The Irish Countrywomen's Association has resumed meetings, and your mother is managing the craft nights each Wednesday at the town hall, where many of the women are making Christmas gifts and decorations. She'll do until the Tourists comeby Tom LydenMy girlfriend she's alright - She'll do until the tourists come The Frames in Clifdenby Tom LydenThis is happening because they used to play at the Blues Festival. Now BasketHouse has put together all of this. Even as they rehearsed some numbers I could feel the excitement, we're transported, we're amazed. Music surely is the finest part of us. Letter from Home 10by Eugene AdamsThe Clifden Pony Show was held a couple weeks ago -- it's always the third Thursday of August, but that day falls late this year, and so more than usually it seemed to signal the end of summer. It was warm and bright, and not a drop of rain fell. There seemed to be a bigger crowd than usual, perhaps because it was so warm and dry. A Paean to Clifden and the Sky Roadby Tom LydenIn Clifden the night throbs. Out from tents and luxurious hotels visitors spill into the miasma of expectancy. A bodhrán bleats across the square from Humpty's pub where Germans awkwardly keep time to the music. The young trendies from Dublin drink American beer from the bottle while grisled farmers and fishermen drink pints of half and half. A Tribute to Clifden's BasketHouse Collectiveby Tom LydenSometimes the small town really gets me down - I hear a guitar strumming - Or is it the banshee wailing for my soul? A Wet Weekend in Connemara, Part 2by Sean HartnettAnother dull day, and wet too. I followed the single lane road out of Roscoe to trace the edge of Lough Fee back to the main road. The early part of the walk was beautiful. Vistas of scraggy, weathered hills slopping down to lakes wreathed in spectral mist; I was alone in a mostly empty and noiseless landscape, the only noise the otherworldly cry of the curlew. This is also what I had come west to find: mystic Connemara. Letter from Home 9by Eugene AdamsJune is almost out, and I haven't written -- too much music and fishing. You remember Brendan Salmon -- he came here from Mayo ten or so years ago, was working at Clifden Supply, and playing guitar and singing at Terry Sweeney's and at Guy's. He was at university with the King lad, and one summer a few years ago they performed together at Terry's, mostly American rock and roll, a sort of Connemara Simon and Garfunkel act. BasketHouse's first nightby Tom LydenThe Basket House Collective's first performance! Justin King opens with a story written by a friend of his and it goes down very well. Next on is Martin Finke with his very sensitive style. There's so much talent here and I feel that our very existence is being affirmed. There's a hippy band waiting to play but we're keeping them like good wine until the end. Letter from Home 8by Eugene AdamsYou can think that summer has come to Connemara. I was up in Duneen on Sunday afternoon, the 20th, and heard the first cuckoo. That's usually a good place to hear him, as it's secluded and there are a lot of trees, on the hillside toward the Salt Lake and on the other hillside, toward the river and along the river side. Letter from Home 7by Eugene AdamsDuring the week before Easter I went with a small group of parishioners to visit two of the holy wells near here. On Wednesday evening, the six of us went to St. Caillin's Well, near Ballyconneely, and on Good Friday we went up to St. Patrick's Well at Maumeen, near Recess. Letter from Home 6by Eugene AdamsTrout season started last month, and I've been out a few times. I'm using the nine and a half foot, four-section rod that I got last year. It's really not big enough when there's a lot of wind, but it suits me all the same. I lash it to the top tube of my bicycle, put my gear in my back pack, along with a flask of tea, a sandwich, fruit, candy bar, pipes and tobacco, and I'm ready for a day of fishing on the bog. Letter from Home 5by Eugene AdamsDo you remember my telling you, some months ago, about Sharon Murphy, the singer/songwriter? I heard her perform here during Arts Week last September, and the year before, too. Sharon was raised here in Clifden, at St. Joseph's Orphanage, which closed about 1983. Her father was Black, from the West Indies, and her mother Irish. Letter from Home 4by Eugene AdamsIf you were here for the holidays you'd see that there are changes in Clifden. James Sullivan has re-opened his shop on Main Street -- it's really a supermarket now, with a number of things you would have had to get from Galway, before. The seven houses that Kevin Barry is building next to the Old School are roofed and plastered. John Sweeney has begun clearing the site for the hotel and houses he is to build -- that would be along the Galway Road coming into Clifden, where the old motel stands. And leaving Clifden on the Westport Road, opposite Doctor John's, there will be some houses built. Letter from Home 3by Eugene AdamsA good American film was shown here last week. Of course the nearest cinema is in Galway, but during the winter the Letterfrack Film Society has the use of the audio-visual centre at Connemara National Park, and shows a film there every two weeks. So last Thursday "Smoke" was shown; you might have seen it; based on a story by the Brooklyn novelist Paul Auster, and placed in Brooklyn. Letter from Home 2by Eugene AdamsWe're getting a lot of wind and rain here lately, but not so much that I can't get out on my bike most days. Yesterday I rode out the Bog Road and saw the whole range of the Bens, from Diamond Hill to Derryclare, covered in snow gleaming in the morning sun, and the sun was warm on the bog despite the snow in the mountains. I rode out about four miles, to the bit of high ground where I could look out over the bog. Letter from Home 1by Eugene AdamsI'm sure you're surprised to be reading my letter to you on the internet. This is how it happened: I was talking with your friends Ralph and Justin, and they suggested that, since I write to you regularly to keep you up to date on life here, I send the letter over the internet using their new Clifden web site, so that your friends in America, and anyone interested in life here, can stay up to date too. |