As we get ready to begin the new section of the cape there is so much to reflect, this is the section is the last section before it get very complicated , sorta like my life. You will do a celtic knot in this section, this knot for me represents the Trinity, the Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit, being a devout Catholic this was important to place here. But it also has other meanings to me, for one family as the knot is never broken like my family ties. It also represents my parents and myself, I feel their presence always, in every decision I make , I always question , "Does this follow the value system I was taught?" When things are difficult, I remember that no matter how hard it is for me, my parents went through harder times. Finally in the next clue you will get to learn some of the reasons, I am the person I am .
Monday, April 25, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
The Value of Family
Before anything in this cape the value of family is expressed, and it starts at the neck and shoulder. What seems to be aggravating nupps now turn into trees two of them , each representing the two sides of the family that make me. On the left is my Mam, she was beautiful, her spirit lives in all of us. The fact that she walked away from never needing anything for love shows her strength. She was a fighter especially for her children. she would never let us go into battle alone, we knew if we were right she was behind us and if we were wrong she was there to pick us back up and feel better about ones-self. But that was nothing compared to the love she felt for the man we called Da . Then the other tree represents Da and the fact they he never let us settle. Always encouraged us to do our best, and loved her as deeply as any "movie" love has ever been shown. From him we get the duty, honour and fight to do what is right no matter the difficulty. From her we get compassion, the ability to be colour blind when it comes to people and the protectiveness we all show to those we love.
The Adventure Begins
The hood was the prequel in the grande adventure you are about to begin . I say this to my self as well as whom ever may read this. So now to begin where my journey starts. I was born on 17 March, 1971 at 11:58 pm in Ireland. I was the 25th child. As it is told I may have been trouble from day 1. Labor and Delivery were on 2 different floors and our dear Da in his haste to see the baby with eyes the colour of Guinness after the settle tripped and broke his nose. I was born with deep brown eyes with coppers flecks. Out of 26 children I am the only child with brown eyes. But those eyes brought a family back together. You see my mother came from a very privileged family and my Da, well hard working, fun loving, and adventurous people. When our Mam married below her class , she was cut off financially. Funny thing growing up I never knew we were poor. I guess when there is that much love in a home, material things go unnoticed.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Tir gan teanga, tir gan anam.
My son asked me yesterday why I say everything twice to him in English and in Irish. I explained to him
that at one time Irish people were not allowed to speak their language I also explained that for me Irish is my first language. But then I told him about his Great Grandfather being punished is school for speaking Irish.The English ruled the country and they did not want us to have a language they did not understand. At a time if you spoke Irish you were considered illiterate.And then I knew that my son had been taught well, he said Mom, "How can a country that has Keats and Yates call it its homeland ever be called dumb?" My children are fortunate many would say to come from such a rich culture and tight family, I think we are lucky to have children that care. Of course his twin sister Emma said "Jack it is not nice to say the word dumb, you need to go to time out". I love my children.
that at one time Irish people were not allowed to speak their language I also explained that for me Irish is my first language. But then I told him about his Great Grandfather being punished is school for speaking Irish.The English ruled the country and they did not want us to have a language they did not understand. At a time if you spoke Irish you were considered illiterate.And then I knew that my son had been taught well, he said Mom, "How can a country that has Keats and Yates call it its homeland ever be called dumb?" My children are fortunate many would say to come from such a rich culture and tight family, I think we are lucky to have children that care. Of course his twin sister Emma said "Jack it is not nice to say the word dumb, you need to go to time out". I love my children.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
If I only had a brain............................................................
I have a brain and can prove it , I know this as they found cancer in it today. So there ya go boyo's the baby sister does have a brain........LOL. Having heard the news, digested it , and decided no way in hell would I let this beat me, I let my brain reflect. Athair CrÃonna, or Great Grandfather. I remember him. He was a man of few words. But he told the stories of old. I have a photo of him in Dublin with guns drawn, many would say that is not a photo for children to see, for me it is an example. How many give up when the going gets a bit hard? They never did , was not in their souls, had it been I would not be who I am. He was a funny man, most thought him gruff, not me . I remember we had all went to dinner at their home on a Saturday. I found a kitten in the rain in the stone wall and I brought that little wet skinny kitten in. I was near 7 at the time. I went in the press and pulled a towel to dry it off. My mam came around and the look on her face told me I was in trouble. I had pulled a fine linen towel out unknowingly. She started to fuss at me and I felt these large hands on my shoulders. I can still hear him say"does not a bit of good just looking pretty in a press, now leave her be and i will handle this". I looked up and he told me don't just be sitting there lets go get some milk from the cows, he'll be needing it. I learned how to milk a cow that day. I also learned that loves is shown in actions at times instead of words. This man who fought long side of Michael Collins and the others found a wee girl important. He got older and didn't shave as much and the other girls wouldn't want to give him a hug due to his bristles, not me he taught me things of importance, he taught me that even in hard moments your actions are stronger than your words. So this next design which is just an option is for him.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
The Big "C"
When I started this cape design the big C was for Celtic Cape, now it too is for cancer. I have cancer. Wow those are the hardest words to say. How does one wrap your head around this? I am a Dr. , I understand the medical, but the fear that has gripped me in knots. I am not one that admits to fear, usually look it square in the eye but the enemy is not one i can see. It is within me. Micheala died of breast cancer, I thought that since I tested negative for breast cancer , I was in the clear. I am young, I don't smoke, I don't drink too much. I had my health scare. I am not afraid for me, I am afraid of the terror this will cause my children. For many I am Mom #2, as their Mam's are gone. This is not fair to do to them. How do I tell them, who lost their beloved Mam to cancer that I have this and I won't die on them. How do I make them believe this. So although for many the fear will be this cape, for me the fear is a much higher stake. Back to designing. I need to honour Michael. God I miss him. I miss those dancing green eyes. He is so much the history of this as well. Twas Michael who taught me how to take a punch. Twas he , who slagged me so till I would be about to cry and say suck it up there Red , tis hard enough to go through life with that mop of curls, never let them see you weak. If you are going to go to third world countries and save the world you need a poker face and no matter what they can never see they have frightened you. So I will do pair of men's sock, not as part of the cape but to remind me to suck it up and not let me children see the fear.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
So far I have designed most of the accessories to go with the cape, now for the kilt hose. These are the hardest, I cry with each stitch. Does it ever get easier. My Da. Sean Padraig Ryan was a dichotomy. He was all man, he never finished his senior levels but mandated all his children to get a degree. He had a gift for engines, fast, high performance race engines. He loved our Mam with a passion few people ever see, much yet are lucky enough to experience. He loved our Country equally. He also loved his children. He had no problem with slagging us, playing with us , mentoring us and teaching us. From him we learned the value of an honest days work, wicked senses of humour and that real men do cry. But for me, he was my best friend. He taught me life lessons every day, he encouraged my need to test myself, when I wanted to do boyish things , flying , aerospace engineering, he was right there behind me. When I started blowing glass my Da built the glass house I still use today in Ireland. But more important when I found my true calling in medicine , He never said but Meggie what about the other degrees you have. He had a tenderness that was inspiring, when each of his daughters was born he dedicated a song to them, old standards, "A kiss to build a dream on" by Loius Armstrong was mine, and he danced with his daughters to their song. If a girl could get a message to God before her birth on what type of Da they wanted, I would not have asked for a thing more except longer time with him.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
The hood every story has a beginning as does every knitting project. The hood is my beginning so I think the last part of it should be about the two people who with out a beginning I would not exist. My Da said he fell in love with our Mam at first site. He walked into a pub and she was at a table with family and he was gobsmacked. This son from the Aran Islands , this son of Ireland who was the third generation fighting for the rights of the people saw a high society girl and lost his heart in her smile. I asked him once how he knew he was in love with her and said he couldn't breathe with out her. He walked over to the table when she was by herself and told her he was going to marry her. She blushed and laughed and she had him then and there for the rest of their lives. They married less than 6 months later and Mam was promptly disowned. I asked her once if she ever regretted leaving her life for the one she started with and she said not for one moment. The back of this hood is them, two hearts entwined for life so connected , that my Da died one year to the day after my Mam of a broken heart. The hearts don't work , sure it is kitchy and everyone will get it but tis not them, they are my angels so that is what they shall be........
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Little Boxes
There should be two ways to make the hood, one the typical little red riding hood style and one more fitted. They should each be classic on their own , But what story do I tell? Little boxes.... Mam... I have to tell about our boxes, the silly little pressies she put under our plate. I still don't know how she found half of the things. How did you do that Mam? How did you find the one little pressie that fit you child's personality? And the countless other little things. The Pez container, I know Aunt Kay must have shipped it from the states. I remember it so well, and I was the only one with one. I wonder if you know how special that made me feel. I write this like you are reading it. You probably are. So one hood will have boxes for you. The other will be plain with a special band in the back. Thanks Mam , you have inspired me again.
Friday, January 28, 2011
I have to begin, before I lose the courage to tell the story. I guess the first part should be about the half of me that is gone. I was born a twin. Her name was Micheala, she was feminine , giggly, she could burn water, and she died too young. We were two halves of a whole. Where she was feminine, I was a tomboy, where she was designer's favourite customer, my designer was L.L.Bean, Some may have thought her shallow, they should have gotten to know her. When they did they saw a woman whose children were her reason for being. Motherhood was so natural for her. She had such hidden dignity. The first thing I design has to be about her or us. The fact that I can still hear her laugh. The fact that even though we were polar opposites, I could finish her sentences and we had twin speak till the very end. I am raising her children now, I am not sure I am doing it the same way she would , I am doing my best. I look at Moira and I see Micheala, the giggle , the love of pink. I wonder if she is watching and what she thinks. Ok Mickey the first part will be about you , about our hearts even when separated by death are part of each other. And Mickey, I still have not figured out which comes first the chicken or the egg.
What can one do to to leave their story for future generations? What if your story involves the freedom of a country? How does one tell this in a manner that people will understand that these are not just mere words, this is my life, the most personal parts of me. The fact that many of your family would and was considered terrorists because they fought for Ireland's freedom. I think I just tell my story through stitches. This will start the journey of a Celtic cape. By the time I am finished, my soul will be bare to the world. But my story will be told and perhaps in hearing my words others will tell theirs. And when I have finished the cape my children will know their heritage, their mothers homeland and most of all their legacy. I can hear you Da, "Take the hill less travelled". I think this may be a mountain. Here's a pint to you Da, Give Mam a hug for me, I miss you both so much. The pain has not got any less. I will tell your story too. The story of a love so great that none of us could settle for less.
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