July 4, 2001
A special hello to Steve West, a friend at the University who, like me, has
taken his retirement and works part-time. He is the father of four girls and is
married to Kay. When I call to arrange the golf game with Steve, I will ask to
speak to the boss if Kay answers the phone. "Speaking", Kay will say
(I love to stir things up). Today, we traveled through the countryside heading
for the Connemara Mountains, and we saw several golf courses. The greens fee in
the more remote areas is about ten pounds. The putting greens don't look as
smooth as ours in the US and would likely add a few strokes to our (already
high) scores. The more popular tournament courses are very busy and it can take
more than a year to reserve a tee time. It seems that lots of pros, such as
Tiger Woods, like to play here because the Irish don't worship the celebrities
as we do. They can easily visit a pub and not be bothered by fans. Steve and I
also play in remote areas but plan to move to the more popular courses when our
scores improve (my God, I hope that it happens some day).
One of our stops today was at Knock, a pilgrimage center in County Mayo, a place
where ordinary people had seen a miraculous vision. Well over 100 years ago,
there was a vision of Mary, Joseph and St. John the Evangelist where they
appeared to 15 members of the church. They did not speak but the apparition was
interpreted as a message of hope shortly after the famine. Part of the wall of
the original church was saved and may be touched by visitors. It is a popular
location and can be compared to Lourdes in France. Earl Carrico, Bruce and
Anne's neighbor, deeply believes that its waters helped correct an eye problem
that had been untreatable. The McBreens brought several, small empty bottles to
fill and bring back to Cincinnati.
What I am about to say is not meant to be disrespectful but is simply my account
of the events that took place at Knock. Edith and I were filling two bottles
with water and she commented to a group of six women who were passing by that I
would be rubbing it on the top of my head and hope for a miracle. They had a
good laugh (ha, ha). Edith decided that she needed another bottle and we crossed
the road to a shop that sold them. Coming back, she misjudged the curb and
slowly twisted to the ground turning her ankle (some might see this as
punishment for the insensitive comment she made earlier). She couldn't move and sat at
the edge of the street -- I stood in the gutter so oncoming car drivers would know to
steer around us. A little later I gave Edith two hands, but she couldn't
lift herself. We waited a little longer, and tried again. This time Edith was
able to get to her feet. For a moment, as Edith lifted herself, I thought that I
received a sign and heard Gabriel toot his horn. Ah, the joys of growing old!
(See me when I'm back if you
don't quite understand what really happened here.)
I had trouble getting email to the McBreen children (Mike, Jenny, Dan) but we're
all connected now. Your Mom and Dad are doing fine and usually can be found in
the part of the bus where there is the most noise and laughter. Edith helped Pat
Schloemer get set up before we left, and I hope that your Gateway PC is working
okay. Tomorrow we will head for Kilarney where will spend our last two days in
Ireland. I got up to write this since I was having trouble sleeping -- I kept
thinking about miracles. I couldn't
decide if I preferred the more contemporary, short-clipped look or maybe the pompadour
(I do believe that the longer style is better suited for a prince.)