LUCK 'O THE IRISH? A LITTLE HISTORY

Hub and I are going through the photos of our recent trip to Ireland, and by "photos" I don't just mean a film roll of 36 frames, half of which would be tossed for being blurry or blank.  Digital means a person (Hub) can take, let's see, about one-thousand photos with the promise of culling them after getting back home.  This becomes a daunting task.  It's also a nice way (until interest and energy wane) to re-visit in great detail sites and memories of the trip. 

People have asked us what stood out for us from our Ireland tour.  Frankly, it has all sort of run together.  As I've already blogged, the itinerary was packed and we were no sooner in one place than it was time to move on to another.  It was hard to stay grounded in any one experience before we were off to the next, such that "impressions" of Ireland come to the fore more readily than specifics.  The photos help with the specifics and I'll get to that in the next post.

For now...impressions:  The Republic of Ireland isn't all that lucky.  

But it is beautiful.  The coastline is rugged with the wild Atlantic crashing into towering cliffs.  Cities are vibrant, modern, busy.  The countryside is green.  And rural.  And there are dairy cows and woolly sheep everywhere.  Especially sheep.  Always sheep.  Rolling hills, old stone fences for miles dividing multi-green-hued pastures, on surprisingly open land.  I thought there would be more trees.  But no...

The invading Normans first decided to take a whack at the native forest lands in the 12th and 13th centuries to create farm land.  In the 16th century Ireland fell under British rule and the British pretty much decimated the rest of the forests for farming, for open space for military maneuvers, to deprive the Irish rebels of shelter, to harvest timber for ship-building and construction in England, really for whatever they wanted. This went on throughout Irish history until now 80% of Ireland's native forestland is no more.  So, while lovely, Ireland still looks nothing like it should, which is one of the many ways in which Ireland has been a victim of invaders, oppressors, and bullies.  

The Irish never did fully surrender to their British occupation given that Britain was a cruel and oppressive "colonizer".  In 1601, an event that turned a tide and set in motion animosities that remain to this day, was the Battle of Kinsale.  The Catholic Spanish sailed to Ireland to help their Catholic brethren reject British rule and chase them back to Britain.  Since this is not a history book, I won't recount all the twists and turns that enterprise endured, but it was dramatic.  The Spanish Armada sailed, arrived off course (not to Cork but to Kinsale) and fought with the Irish against the British.  Alas, fortunes turned, and the Irish began to withdraw, as did the Spanish who surrendered and went back home to Spain, leaving the exhausted and outnumbered Irish to suffer a terrible defeat at the hands of the British.  About 10 years later, after the chieftains of the northern areas of Ireland were forced out, the British rewarded these lands to Anglican (Protestant) loyalists who established this area forever for Britain, foreshadowing what would come later.

The  famous Irish "potato famine" looms large in history and still seems oddly current to the Irish.  They have not really gotten over it. There is bitterness.  We saw many monuments and cemeteries and memorials throughout the Republic to victims of the "The Great Hunger", which some call that period.  I grew to believe this is an apt description.  Potatoes grew prolifically and were a staple of the Irish diet, since the ruling British forbid Irish folk from owning land.  They rented small plots from British landlords and subsisted mostly on the crop that could grow -- potatoes. Then came 1845 and a potato virus from faraway Mexico that turned harvested potatoes to rotting mush.  Nearly 1 million Irish died and 2 million emigrated  to Britain and/or  got aboard "coffin ships" that sailed with starving, diseased, and dying Irish to the United States and Canada.  The population of Ireland was decreased in years to come by 50% and still has not reached pre-famine numbers.  

While the rotten potatoes created a dietary deficit, it was the British (again!) who caused the misery and the Great Hunger -- they did not come to the aid of the starving Irish with any formalized social outreach. The churches doled out  watery soup to families who waited in line all day to get it. The British continued to export nutritious meat, dairy products and vegetables from Irish farms to British mouths while the Irish starved.  The Great Hunger is still mourned to this day, with nearly everyone having an ancestor who died or emigrated in this period.

The Irish Rebellion of 1916 was yet another attempt, of many, of the Irish to break free from British rule.  The rebels thought they might have the advantage while the British were busy with WWI.  But no, again, the uprising was quickly quashed leaving hundreds dead and rebel leaders to be tried and summarily executed at the infamous Kilmainham Gaol in Dublin.  These men and women are remembered as martyrs. 

The Irish War of Independence (Easter Uprising) began in 1920 after the Republic announced it had seceded from Britain.  It resulted in thousands of deaths until finally in 1921 an agreement was reached with the signing of the Anglo-Irish Treaty establishing the Irish Free State.  Unfortunately this did not end the fighting which went on in an attempt to bring Northern Ireland into the Free Republic, but the Republic was defeated by the Northern Loyalists who fought to remain with Britain.

Thus we have "The Troubles" in Northern Ireland in the 20th Century. Remember in 1601 the British basically took Northern Ireland and gave it to the Protestants after the Irish  defeat at the Battle of Kinsale.  And after the Independence Easter Uprising, the north fought to stay with Britain. Frankly this North/South conflict is so woven into history, oppressor and oppressed, power plays, politics, religion and a wee bit of "it's all OK now; let's not talk about" denial that I am still confused about when, why, and how it started and whether it will ever really end in spite of that Good Friday Agreement when President Clinton brokered a peace between Loyalist Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland.  

Let me just say that while we were there, Queen Elizabeth died and the Republic shrugged, while in Northern Ireland the Union Jack was at half mast and the funeral day was a Bank Holiday.  Some in the Republic are still agitating for a "United Ireland" while in the north they, today!, refuse to seat a government because the "unification party", the Sinn Fein, won a majority for the first time ever but the loyalists won't let them participate in governing.  (Think Mitch McConnell thwarting Obama, the former president deciding not to recognize the new one, etc.)  At least that's how my simple brain comprehends it.  I refer you any number of Google-able sources that have long confusing stories about this.

So, I guess my impression is that Ireland is a small island nation with a long history of oppression and a sad history of North/South internal conflict that seems to have started centuries ago.  It is a beautiful country of contrasts: Melancholy and hopeful. Safe. (The police do not carry weapons.) But the history of violence is memorialized everywhere. The people: Friendly. Warm. Welcoming.  Realistic. Proud. Resilient.  The culture: Steeped in the past, moving to the future.  Festive.  Musical.  Creative.  Fun.  

As for luck?  Wikipedia says the "luck o' the Irish" saying comes from the California Gold Rush where many of the most successful miners were Irish or Irish-American.  Good on them. 🍀

At least, that's the view from here...©

Sources:  A bunch of Wikipedia articles, ABC News, The Economist, History, Irish Central, Kinsale (book by Barry Molony), and my own faulty memory.

Photo credits:  Hub, Official Trip Photographer:  (CLICK ON PHOTO TO ENLARGE) Irish coastline, Irish countryside, colorful Kinsale, artist's iron sculpture of a "coffin ship" with skeletons surrounding the masts, plaque at the Easter Rebellion Uprising Memorial, sculpture in Northern Ireland with figures reaching out in friendship -- but not quite touching.

POST-MARCH EUPHORIA

Well, silly me.  Nothing to worry about.  No Anarchists, no opposition "haters", no rowdy marchers, no danger of  being crushed or trampled by the crowd....just 130,000 smiling, happy, positive, determined women, men, and children under mysteriously sunny skies being all polite and funny and creative -- quintessentially Seattle -- in a 3-mile phalanx of humanity moving slowly toward that beacon of modernity, the Space Needle -- where all dispersed and jammed every single bus, monorail, and taxi for hours upon hours (but more about that later...)

I will say we did it in style.  One of our group had an "in" at the historic Camlin Hotel and booked us a bunch of rooms.  It has an old world elegance, updated for the 21st century, but still feeling like you step into the 1920's inside with gold-gilted mirrors and a grand piano in the lobby.  (Much classier and understated than those "other" gold-encrusted gaudy T-Towers, of course.)  Our group of 20 gathered in a back "party room" and proceeded to create signs, eat snacks, have a glass of sparkling this or that, and get to know each other.  There was a core group and then friends of friends.  Many of us were strangers from one another.  I led a sharing circle where we each spoke to what brought us to the march, what were our hopes and fears about the experience, what support did we need...and how do we get from the hotel to the starting point over a mile away early on Saturday morning:  logistics.

Some of us got up early and bussed to the park where the march would start.  Some of us decided to join the march a mile in, at an official "entry point" along the route.  We later found out that the park, which was projected to hold 25,000 was soon overwhelmed with 50,000 or more people spilling into the neighborhood streets.

 My group decided to bus to the first entry point -- a plan several hundred other people also made.  We arrived to a large, colorful, cheerful crowd awaiting a first glance at the marchers headed our way.  A large lead contingent of police cars and cops on bikes came by, then the marchers.  We soon wove our way into the throng and off we went -- part of the excitement, part of the presence, part of history.

I felt a wave of so many emotions; so grateful for my friends and sharing this with them; grateful for the positive vibe all around me and the feeling of safety, shared values, and sense of community where babies to teens joined with adults of all ages, to the very aged with walkers and canes all putting our bodies on the streets and cheering from the sidewalks all along the march route.

Pink-eared 'pussy' hats (as in cat) were the predominant headwear -- women, men, children and dogs donned the knitted hats, a nod to the infamous crude quote by the man who is now the president about the female body part he feels entitled to grab when with women he finds attractive.  We took his crudeness and owned it as our own -- Pussy Power.

There had been a call for silent march and for the most part it was.  We had quiet conversations with each other and offered words of complement and encouragement to those around us, but there were no loud chants or shouts or songs or anything negative at all!  It was a wave of love or at least good humor where satire was more effective than anger.

We reached the Space Needle, hearing that some of our original group were still almost 3 miles behind us, having taken nearly 2 hours to exit the park!  We three Shiny Sisters Ubered back to downtown Seattle and took our place on the sidewalk, watching the marchers pass until the end.  It was a moment of profound delight and pride.  Not one altercation.  No incidents of violence or discord.  And that seems to be the case across all marches everywhere around the US and the world.  I've heard of no arrests, even at the massive 500,000- person march in Washington DC.   Love Wins.

And then you have to find your way home....  We three retrieved our bags from the hotel and made for the bus station to hop onboard and head 25 miles north to home.  Not too many people at the stop, so we felt confident.  Then the first articulated bus came by jammed with people and the driver said "no more room".  Some at the stop said that was the FOURTH full bus!  Hmmm....a little discouraging.  But we waited for the next bus.  Same thing.  It was getting dark.  We were tired.  On to Plan B.  If we took a bus south to the beginning of the line, we could get on and get a seat before it did the whole route and was jammed!  Brilliant.

We schlepped our bags to a different bus stop and hopped onboard a mostly empty bus that goes underground through the bus tunnel.  We were relieved, chatting away, people watching, reviewing the day and when we emerged from the tunnel it was full dark and we were rolling past Safeco Field at a high rate of speed and onto I-90 east to Bellevue.  Hmmm....we'd missed our stop and were now expressing about 10 miles out of our way.  Damn!  That wasn't the plan!  But what can ya do?

Fortunately one of us (not me) pulled up the bus schedule and figured out how to get home from Bellevue -- only two more buses!  Once at the transit station we had to run to catch the next bus or wait an hour, but we made it.  We were finally on our way to at least be in our home county!  But alas, soon we were at a dead stop on the interstate due to a horrible roll-over accident and all lanes briefly blocked for emergency vehicles.  We broke out the chocolate and potato chips.  It was well past dinnertime.

Once past the accident and on our way again, we relaxed into knowing we'd soon be at the bus station that would get us to the bus home.  But then....the driver slowed to a crawl and pulled over on the shoulder of the freeway and turned off the bus.  Everything went completely dark for a moment.  Now what???  We have no idea. He cranked the engine and we were soon on our way, but something was obviously wrong because he was hanging in the right lane going about 40 MPH.  We made it though, got on the bus home, and nearly collapsed into the car when a kind husband met us at the station.   The trip home was nearly as long as the march, but hey, it was another Shiny Sister bonding experience where we got distracted, had great conversations, disagreed, got a little pissed, people-watched, ate, read Facebook posts to each other, and laughed A LOT.  Typical outing for us.


So, the march was much more than the march.  We were part of history, we showed up and "spoke" with our presence that we will not be silenced and we will be watching and participating in working for our values, our vision, our Democracy.  We were part of a huge community of souls around the globe (millions all over the world marched on 1/21/17!), among the citizens within a free and proud United States, members of a small community of friends old and new in Seattle, and held within a smaller knot of friends- to-the-end from our own county to the north.  Eventually each of us ended up singularly in her bed last night, grateful for all of it -- even the interminable bus adventure.  Can't wait 'til next time....WE RISE!  STRONGER TOGETHER!

At least, that's the view from here...©