the past

i just finished a good book last night. well when I say good I mean it had a level of enjoyment and it was quite simple to read. It was called 'Protestant Boy' and is a memoir about life in North Belfast in the 1960s. I am trying to find out as much as I can about Belfast, this city is so fascinating, and memoirs from the people who know it best seem a good place to start. on the first page the book opens with a poem by Seamus heaney about the unique nature of northern Ireland. i will post some of this poem at a later date.

the book ambled along at a nice steady pace and I liked this very much after all the taxing law work that needs to be done. there seems to be, like many books set in or inspired by northern Ireland, a theme of identity weaving its way through every word, every sentence. the book, towards the final page holds one of the most poignant sentences i have ever read. it goes as follows 'at night sometimes I caught a glance at myself in the mirror and I realised I didn't need to travel to see the past'.

this particularly resonates with me. I watch my parents-now from a distance, and see how they are slowly morphing into their own parents. in the most subtle ways of course. My dad, just like his mother insists on cleaning the kitchen constantly at the weekends. early morning the sound of RTE 1 seeps through the walls of every room in the house merrily accompanied by the crash of dirty dishes as they are plunged in hot water and forcibly cleaned. just like my grandmother in England who shines her plates and irons socks, bellowing through the house in a sharp cork accent.

this tiny idiosyncrasies make up a history of people who then made me. somehow coming together through love they reproduced and blended together creating new life. when you consider what has come before you it is much easier to forget the fear of being forgotten- as i detailed in an earlier post. the past seems to be strongly present in my life at present-many conversations with friends and family center around genealogy. I undertook a little bit of research into the meaning of names and found out my mother's family have been in donegal since the 4th century A.D. Her christian name roughly translates as the 'harvester'-very apt to her personality. she reaped and sowed love in her role as a mother. When I told her her translation she informed me that she had married my father on the harvest festival. now the autumn will always have a different meaning for me.