Today is the day I should have been heading off to New York for ten days to further my writing career. I’ve had to defer for various reasons and so will have to wait another while before soaking myself in a city that has long appealed to me, really since first seeing Woody Allen’s Manhattan.
I’ve been wanting to start looking through my late father’s massive collection of photographs ~ which span the years from the 1940s to the early 2000s ~ and somehow today seemed like the right day to begin that journey.
Having just looked through a few boxes, I feel as if I’ve been to the four corners of Ireland and also back and forth in both family and social history.
Father was from Co. Clare and always had a love of currachs ~ a special kind of rowing boat. John O’Donohue, the well-known Co.Clare poet referred to a currach in his beautiful poem Beannacht:
When the canvas frays
In the currach of thought
And a stain of ocean
Blackens beneath you,
May there come across the waters
A path of yellow moonlight
To bring you safely home.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to find many photographs of currachs among Father’s photographs and the images strike me as being very far-removed from the New York that would have greeted me today.