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.

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 Críonna, 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.

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.

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.