Manhattan Diaryby Cahir O'Doherty
- Forging a bond with my father during an idyllic trip to Donegal
- JFK and the Sacred Heart were the twin pillars of life in Donegal
- The War on Thanksgiving
- Honor our Irish American forefathers by maintaining the ailing US infrastructure
- In the aftermath of suicide, a long walk through a strange country
That sword was proof we didn't always look like that. But in all of the northwest, I realized, there were perhaps 20 people who knew where it was kept, or who had it had once belonged to, or what it had meant and means. And they were as scattered to the four winds as the Earls and my own peers.
Archbishop Timothy Dolan, in his role as head of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, has just issued a directive for all parishes to include the following anti-gay message into every Sunday bulletin.
The message opens: 'For the first time in our nation’s history, the Supreme Court is considering two cases about whether or not marriage should be redefined to include two persons of the same sex.'
He was standing on street corner when I came into view. Tipsy and moving in that weirdly delicate slow motion way that drunk people often do, he began yelling the moment I appeared.
It was about seven on Saturday evening and I had been doing laundry a block away in my New York City neighborhood.
New York Senator Charles Schumer is busy this week pushing for what we hope will be a successful comprehensive immigration reform bill as one of the so-called gang of eight bipartisan senators.
Along the way he’s sure to be casting a weather eye on the ways in which his actions now could eventually craft his political legacy, the great work he will be remembered for in decades to come.
We don't really think about what happens to a woman once the plane that's carrying her touches down in England. Out of sight is out of mind.
She becomes someone else's problem, her own mostly. To salve our conscience and keep the peace we temporarily cut her adrift from the island on which she makes her home. While she's away she'll be her own nationality.
Mrs. Doyle owned the tiny shop toward the bottom of the main street. A general store from another era, by the time I was old enough to go in on my own it had a faintly aniseed aroma, as though it were preserving itself.
She was old, and by Donegal standards she wasn’t nice. I had never heard her offer a sharp word to anyone, but I couldn’t recall hearing her offer a kind one either. In my town that got you noticed.