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Tag: family

The ninth post of pre-Christmas 2018: September

Friday, 21 December, 2018

On 5 September, here, our post was a short meditation on the concepts of decency, hospitality, generosity, honour and memory titled “What we save saves us.”

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Family, friends and neighbours were the bedrock upon which my parents built their world. These people were there to help and support us, to lend a hand with the harvest and eat at our table. Their presence assured us that we were never really alone.

Drawing in the hay

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Tomorrow, here, review of the year continues with the tenth post of pre-Christmas 2018, which was about the making of the world’s best sandwich.


What we save saves us

Wednesday, 5 September, 2018

Family, friends and neighbours were the bedrock upon which my parents built their world. These people were there to help and support us, to lend a hand with the harvest and eat at our table. Their presence assured us that we were never really alone.

Drawing in the hay


It matters who I remember he was

Monday, 2 April, 2018 0 Comments

Actually, what the poet Anne Sexton said is this: “It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.”

Michael Fitzgerald (17 September 1917 – 2 April 2011) was a farmer and a thinker. He loved the land, its substance, its history, its moods and its meaning. He knew why people had fought and died for it and he understood the passions it generated. His hands were shaped by decades of making a living from his fields. He was one of the last representatives of a culture that had its roots in an ancient, a simpler, a more traditional world. His decency .

Father

“Of life’s two chief prizes, beauty and truth, I found the first in a loving heart and the second in a labourer’s hand.” — Khalil Gibran


Father’s Day

Sunday, 2 April, 2017 0 Comments

Michael Fitzgerald (17 September 1917 – 2 April 2011): “He was a farmer and he was a deep thinker. He loved the land, its history, its substance, its moods and its meaning. He knew why people had fought and died for it and he understood the passions it generated. His hands were shaped by decades of wresting a living from the soil. Possessed of a sense of chivalry that has all but disappeared; he was one of the last representatives of a culture that had its roots in an ancient, a simpler, a lost world. Those who were privileged to know him will miss him greatly. His passing is our loss.”

Father

“Of life’s two chief prizes, beauty and truth, I found the first in a loving heart and the second in a labourer’s hand.” Khalil Gibran


Family photo taken by my mother in 1948

Sunday, 8 January, 2012

“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from — my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it […]

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