The Bare Hearth (a poem)

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Last year I took a nature writing workshop at Battery Park City. It was a great group and we were fortunate to have a wonderful instructor. We ranged widely through the meaning of “nature,” including human nature and several takes on how harming the natural environment affects humans.

During one of the early workshops we took a walk to the Irish Hunger Memorial for inspiration. Although my goal was to write non-fiction prose I was inspired to write a poem about the Irish immigrants who came to the United States during the potato famine and was surprisingly pleased with the outcome. Indeed, I submitted it for an exhibit of work from the workshops, art and writing alike, that was held earlier this year.

A hearth in a rough stone wall.
The hearth that inspired my poem.

The Bare Hearth

The Burran’s blasted land Bare rocks bore witness to
The suffering of human souls Starvation’s cruelty
Heavy our hearts When the hearth was bare
That drove us, desperat To distant lands
The wretched refuse Of Erin’s teeming shores
Seeking solace In the city’s crowded streets

October 2022

Photo Gallery

Looking downward on stone walls with a smaller hearth. Green plants are visible on top of the stone walls. In the distance, a glimpse of urban buildings.
Looking downward on the stone walls of the Irish Hunger Memorial.

 

A gravel path leads into the distance. On the left a stone wall; on the right green plants.
A path within the Irish Hunger Memorial.

 

A low, rough stone wall. In the foreground is a gravel path. In the background, trees and a distant view of the Hudson River.
Looking out from the top of the Irish Hunger Memorial, looking toward the Hudson River.

 

A row of easels supporting written text. Behind the table is a window with a view of the park.
The Nature Writing Workshop’s work on display at the exhibition of Battery Park City’s arts workshops.

First Take on the Great #TwitterMigration

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You’re online and reading a blog, so I’m going to assume you know that a multi-billionaire has purchased the microblogging site Twitter. This has caused great controversy and anxiety among the Twitter community. Some people seem to have left immediately, a couple of corporations have (temporarily?) suspended advertising on Twitter, and many people are flocking (pun absolutely intended) to other social media and microblogging sites.

The most popular of those is Mastodon, which is not actually a website itself; it’s open-source software used to build individual sites, called “instances,” that are run by volunteer administrators. Some instances are open for people to create accounts, a few are limited to certain users (the most famous of which is probably the European Union‘s instance), and a few more are personal instances with a population of one.

If you use WordPress for your own website or blog as well as reading here you’ll understand: WordPress is software that is used to create many individual sites. There’s also a website called WordPress, but it is far from being the whole of WordPress. Mastodon (the software) is similarly used to create social media platforms; some actually have the word “Mastodon” in their name but most don’t.

Although I don’t plan to quit Twitter any time soon, I have had a Mastodon account since 2018 and I just created another one on an instance dedicated to writers. So if you’ve been following me on Twitter, you can find me on Mastodon, too. By all means, give it a try and say “hello.” And if you have any questions, please leave them in the Comments; I might put together a longer post on how to get started on Mastodon if there seems to be interest.

Mastodon

Life’s a Beach (Grass)

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A Day with the Greenbelt Native Plant Center

For years I’d been curious about the Greenbelt Native Plant Center (GNPC). I don’t remember where I’d first heard about it, but it was there on the New York City Parks Department website, tantalizingly close yet never open to the public. Its inaccessibility only piqued my curiosity.

And then one day last year, as Spring was approaching and I browsed the Parks’ website for nature walks, there it was: a volunteer event at the GNPC! “Processing beach grass” is what the description said. Processing? Of course I pounced on it, even if I wasn’t quite sure what the task was. It wasn’t the first time I traded a bit of elbow grease (as my Grandfather called it) for access, and I doubt it will be the last.

Processing beach grass (Ammophila breviligulata, one of several species known as “beach grass”) turned out to mean stripping the dry, brown leaves from clumps of grass to leave the fresh green stems and roots ready for planting at various beaches in the City. It was fairly easy work; we could even sit down. Best of all, after we’d stripped grass for a couple of hours one of the GNPC staff offered to take us for a tour of the facility.

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The Day Before

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On the evening of September 10, 2001, I attended a talk by former Senator George Mitchell at St. Bartholomew’s Church in Manhattan. He spoke mostly about his book Making Peace, an account of his role in the negotiations that led to Ireland’s Good Friday Agreement in 1998. 

Mitchell’s talk is available online. Fortunately C-SPAN’s Book TV recorded it. It’s long, but worth listening to, and the actual speech ends around the 44 minute mark; you can skip the Q&A.

I had been to Ireland with a friend in 1999 and thought it a beautiful country. We went off-season (in October) and were free to mosey around the country without crowds of tourists. One of our first visits was to Christ Church Cathedral in Dublin. It was a weekday morning (and, anyway, not our faith) so we were just there to admire the architecture. We happened to arrive just as the boys’ choir was finishing practice and the Minister led everyone assembled–the choir, tourists, and a few locals who seemed to know that this would take place–in a prayer for peace. Being vaguely aware of the previous year’s peace accord, it seemed particularly meaningful.

We were somewhat alarmed, on a later walk through Dublin, to see posters about an upcoming election from the Sinn Féin party. That’s the legitimate political party of the Irish Republican Army, who before the peace agreement had been responsible for some of “The Troubles.” But they’d gone legit and their political candidates were, to all appearances, following the law. Still, it was a little jarring in our otherwise relaxing vacation.

So as I listened to George Mitchell speak, I thought about Ireland. And I thought about the United States, where political violence was extremely rare and usually confined to isolated incidents. Yes, we have our problems, our own injustices–but people didn’t worry about bombings in our marketplaces or other public areas. Military personnel carrying rifles don’t patrol our streets.

I felt proud, perhaps comforted. Looking back, very soon after, I would describe that feeling as “smug.” 

Because the next morning, as I was showering and preparing to start the day, everything changed.