The West's Awake
by Cormac MacConnellRSS 
Recent Posts
- An open letter to President Obama - some handy local tips for his visit to Ireland
- Some wonderful discoveries - relishing Irish trad session, The Gathering visitors and more
- The swallows return, beard competition, historic crimes and other musings
- A new taste of spring in Ireland- Tayto crisp’s cheese and onion chocolate bar
- Margaret Thatcher, Queen Elizabeth and the two Marys - Now it the time for a woman Prime Minister in Ireland
Archives
And if you meet a life partner I think you should invite me to the wedding as a small gesture of thanks.
This is apparently about a national sporting climax here at home at the end of September. Bear with me though because it is really an attempt to deal with an infinitely more important and beautiful and heartening reality.
My old heart is singing raucously out loud. If that mighty American football triumph by the Fighting Irish side in the Aviva Stadium at the start of the month was also a moving definition of the pride and purpose and power of the American Diaspora, then the upcoming clash of Mayo and Donegal in the All-Ireland football final this coming Sunday, September 23, is also magnificently special at a level far above that of a mere football match. Hurrah!
Those of you who were not born in Ireland should know that the football final of our own game is by far the most important contest each year. It is more popular than soccer or rugby internationals by far.
P.S.: Brother Mickie phoned five minutes ago to inform me he has been invited out to the West Bank of Palestine in the autumn to perform his classic song "Only Our Rivers Run Free." He has invited me to come along with him Zimmer frame and all if necessary. I think I'll go too.
They would have had all the modern electrical appliances like washing machines and dishwashers and a tumble-dryer so they had no need for an outside clothesline.
I'm taking a brief break from midsummer meanderings around the country to sit in the cottage garden and write this piece.
By the time you read it I will be either on the silvery face of the Shannon or already drinking a smooth pint in some good pub in Tipperary. A group of friends have planned to cross the Shannon by sailing boat for weeks now, but bad weather got in the way.
