This blog is a personal take on Listowel, Co. Kerry. I am writing for anyone anywhere with a Listowel connection but especially for sons and daughters of Listowel who find themselves far from home. Contact me at listowelconnection@gmail.com
I have looked at the statue of John B. In Main Street, Listowel many times over the years. I marvel at the skill of the sculptor in portraying John as he will always be, in my mind’s eye; his arms waving in a joyous welcome to Listowel and a delighted smile on his face at meeting you.
In his youth John was a Greek scholar in St Michael’s College, Listowel, so I think it appropriate to show here a conversation between Socrates and the Athenian sculptor, Crito; written by Xenophon, a student of Socrates and a name very familiar to any Greek scholar.
“Socrates, in conversation with the statuary Clito, showeth his skill and good taste in the Finer Arts.
Talking with Clito, the sculptor, Socrates said to him, “I wonder not that you make so great a difference between the statue of a man who is running a race and that of one who stands his ground to wait for his antagonist with whom he is to wrestle, or to box, or to play a prize at all sorts of defence; but what ravishes the beholders is, that your statues seem to be alive. I would fain know by what art you imprint upon them this wonderful vivacity?” Clito, surprised at this question, stood considering what to answer, when Socrates went on: –“Perhaps you take great care to make them resemble the living persons, and this is the reason that they seem to live likewise.” “It is so,” said Clito. “You must then,” replied Socrates, “observe very exactly in the different postures of the body what are the natural dispositions of all the parts, for when some of them stoop down, the others raise themselves up; when some are contracted, the others stretch themselves out; when some are stiff with straining, others relax themselves; and when you imitate all this, you make your statues approach very near life.” “You say true,” said Clito. “is it not true likewise,” replied Socrates, “that it is a great satisfaction to beholders to see all the passions of a man who is in action well expressed? Thus, in the statue of a gladiator who is fighting, you must imitate the sternness of look with which he threatens his enemy; on the contrary, you must give him, when victor, a look of gaiety and content.” “There is no doubt of what you say.” “We may then conclude,” said Socrates, “that it is the part of an excellent statuary to express the various affections and passions of the soul, by representing such-and-such motions and postures of the body as are commonly exerted in real life whenever the mind is so-and-so affected.”
The Memorable Thoughts of Socrates, Xenophon 431 BC -350? BC”
Appropriate prior thoughts for the Sculptor of our Greek scholar.
For those of us who knew John B. in real life it would be an enjoyable exercise for us to reflect on Socrates words; standing in front of the statue in Main St Listowel.
Thanks
Billy McSweeney
My recent visitors at the statue in question
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A Fact
You are 14% more likely to die on your birthday than on any other day.
Marlene and Liz met up with their friends, Mary and Miriam for a bit of well earned rest and recovery. Miriam sent the pictures.
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Eileen Moylan, Designer in Gold and Silver and Precious Stones
Photo credit; Ger Holland
For a few years Eileen Moylan was the designer commissioned to design and make the presentation piece, named for John B. Keane and sponsored by Mercier Press which was presented by Listowel Writers’ Week to the person chosen to receive recognition for their lifetime contribution to the Arts.
These pieces are one-off treasures, researched, designed, customised and lovingly made at Eileen’s studio in Macroom. Eileen’s attention to detail in all her work is legendary.
If you win an Oscar you just get a statuette, the same as everybody else’s. If you won a Lifetime Achievement award at Listowel Writers’ Week you got something unique, an absolutely beautiful hand made bespoke piece from a silversmith at the top of her game.
Fr. Antony Gaughan was the recipient of one such piece. He absolutely loved it, as did everyone who was lucky enough to get one. Fr. Tony has donated his piece to Kerry Writers’ Museum where it is on display for us all to see and admire. It is even more special for Listowel people than the beautiful Edna O’Brien piece because Eileen’s design incorporates so many lovely Listowel landmarks.
I’m including this great poem today as a tribute to Kamala Harris who has risen to top rung of the ladder.
Megan Smolenyak Smolenyak is the genealogist who traced Barack Obama to Moneygall. She has spoken out on the subject of Harris’s family tree. Detractors have pointed to slave owners in her pedigree as well as slaves. But it is a horrid fact of slavery that owners regarded female slaves as their property to rape at will. Rape was a fact of life for female slaves. Not only their owners, but sons of owners, foremen, friends of owners and other random white men saw it as their right to rape slave girls. So the fact that she has slave owners in her ancestry is no surprise to genealogists.
It’s simply a fact of life.
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A Postbox in Kildare Train Station
Victorian, I presume. Still in use.
Does anyone know why they used to put postboxes in train stations?
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A Fact
A greeting card that can play Happy Birthday has more computer power than existed in the whole world in 1950.
I found your website from google search and with the recent passing of my Dad i decided to look into my family tree, i starting using the tools available to my online and i came across that my Great Grandad was in the army in the early 1900s based in Listowel , i have found alot of documents of his but most are unclear. I was just interested to find out more but struggling to find much information. I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction. He had something to do with horses at the age of 18 with 21st reserve Bn Lancs, and it seems he continued that interest on after leaving the army.. There are records that say he may have lived on William Street and has connections with a shoe repair shop by the name J.J walsh approx 1915s… Any more information you could provide would be gratefully appreciated..
Kind Regards
Andrew Cain
Kay Caball is helping Andrew to research details of his great grandfather’s time in Listowel. Maybe someone reading this has information that might help Andrew with his Listowel connection.
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On The Greenway
I was having a cuppa and a chat in Lizzie’s busy café when two ladies came in. I remembered Marlene (sitting next to me in the photo) but I discovered that her sister, Liz (far left) is also a bit of a fan of Listowel Connection and Just a Thought.
Marlene and Liz were fuelling up before they cycled the Greenway. Liz promised to send me a photo and an account of their adventure. Marlene confessed that she had never ridden a bike with gears. When she last rode a bike, the only power was pedal power.
Liz and Marlene (daughters of the late Bill and Pat Kearney) all kitted out and ready to go. Marlene told me that one wag asked if she had made her will.
The ladies had a ball and really enjoyed their first cycle on our greenway.
Here is Liz’s account.
Two ladies, formerly Listowel, currently residing in ‘Tír na nÓg’, pedalled the Greenway from Listowel to Abbeyfeale, Tuesday, 23 July. Grateful for the encouragement of LikeBikes staff, Andy – ‘you will surprise yourselves’ – and Diane – definitely avail of his help to adjust your bike – and for our encounter with John in Kilmorna – ‘ye have all day’ – and the two ladies who pointed out that we had cycled past Abbeyfeale and directed us to ‘An Siopa Milseán’, a homely sweet shop, surprising visitors with option of coffee or ice cream too! Our two ‘99s set us up for homeward journey! It was a lovely section of Greenway, mostly flat, edged with wildflowers and offering a peaceful view of Duagh and beyond. We couldn’t help hearing the lilt of some of John B’s songs referencing Abbeyfeale in our minds! Great amenity!
Note from me….my visitors made the same mistake and overshot the exit for Abbeyfeale. Maybe it needs better signage.
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A Listowel Gardener
James Kenny with his first sunflower of 2024
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+ Edna O’Brien R.I.P.+
A Listowel connection
Photo credit (all photos) ; Ger Holland
This is the absolutely beautiful trophy awarded to Edna O’Brien as the recipient of the John B. Keane Lifetime Contribution to the Arts Award at Listowel Writers’ Week 2018.
Eileen is not just a master silversmith goldsmith, she is a supremely talented jewellery designer. She researched the recipient thoroughly and executed a unique personalised piece that was received with joy and treasured.
Ger Holland’s photo of Edna O’Brien in The Listowel Arms on opening night 2018.
Eileen Moylans, in her Facebook tribute to the late novelist, shared the grateful, appreciative note that Edna wrote to her after the presentation ceremony.
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A Fact
One in fifty Americans claim to have been abducted by aliens.
This poem, first published in 1861, tells the story of an Irish rebel from County Wexford who leaves his lover behind to help fight against British colonial rule.
The “barley” in the title forms the symbolic center of the poem; it was carried by rebels as a source of food, and eventually comes to remind the speaker of his forsaken love.
The title was borrowed by Ken Loach for his 2006 film, starring Cillian Murphy.
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Wild Flowers
Listowel this summer is ablaze with wild flowers. Listowel is looking after the pollinators. Molly, my doggie visitor, loves to explore the flowery verges on our morning walk.
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A Definition
from The Devil’s Dictionary
by Ambrose Bierce
consult, v to seek another’s approval of a course already decided on.
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A Fact
Hitler’s home phone number was listed in Who’s Who until 1945. It was Berlin 11 6191.
A lovely new mural is taking shape in Upper William Street
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Remembering Big Days in Old Listowel
The Big Fair of Listowel
Tom Mulvihill
Now Marco Polo went to China
But I swear upon my soul
He should have come the other way
To The Big Fair in Listowel.
There he’d see what he didn’t see
At the court of Kubla Khan,
The greatest convocation ever
Since God created man.
There were bullocks in from Mortra
And cows from Carrig Island
Sheep and gosts from Graffa
And pigs from Tullahinel.
There were men with hats and caps
Of every shape and size on,
And women in brown shawls and black,
A sight to feast your eyes on.
The finest fare was to be had
In all the eating places.
A sea of soup and big meat pies,
Some left over from the Races.
Floury spuds and hairy bacon
Asleep on beds of cabbage,
To satisfy a gentleman
A cannibal or savage.
And here and there among the throng
‘tis easy spot the jobbers
Jack O’Dea from County Clare
And Owen McGrath from Nobber.
There was Ryan from Tipperary
And McGinley from Tyrone.
Since ‘twas only Kerry cattle
Could walk that distance home.
And trotting up and down the street
Were frisky mares and stallions,
While here and there in little groups
Drinking porter by the gallons
Were all the travelling people,
The Carthys and the Connors,
The Maughans and the Coffeys-
Gentle folk with gentle manners.
And there you’d see old fashioned men
With moustaches like yard brushes
And more of them with beards that big
You’d take them for sloe bushes.
Up there outside the market gate
A matron old and wrinkled
Was selling salty seagrass
And little bags of winkles.
Inside the gate were country men,
Selling spuds and mangolds
While swarthy men from Egypt
Sold necklaces and bangles
And there you’ll find the laying ducks
Or broody hens for hatching,
Creels of turf and wheaten straw,
With scallops for the thatching.
Dealers down from Dublin
Did there set up their stands,
Selling boots and pinstripe suits
Both new and second hand.
Cups and saucers you could buy
Both singly or in lots,
And for your convenience late at night,
White enamel chamber pots.
If you had an ear for music
You could buy a finch or linnet,
And to bring your winter turf home
A Spanish ass or jennet.
And across at Walshe’s Corner
Stood a ballad singing fellow
Selling sheets- a penny each
Red and white and blue and yellow.
He was an old sean nós man
If you ne’er had music in you
He’s stop you in your stride, man
And you’d not begrudge the penny.
For he’d bring you back to Vinegar Hill
And to Kelly from Killane
Or you’d stand again in Thomas Street
And you’d see the darling man.
But woe alas for the singing man
The Dublin dealer and the drover,
The days of catch whatever you can
Are dead and gone and over.
Now we have fleadhs and Writers’ Weeks
And a plethora of rigmarole
But who remembers as I remember
The big fair in Listowel. Big Fair of Listowel
Tom Mulvihill
Now Marco Polo went to China
But I swear upon my soul
He should have come the other way
To The Big Fair in Listowel.
There he’d see what he didn’t see
At the court of Kubla Khan,
The greatest convocation ever
Since God created man.
There were bullocks in from Mortra
And cows from Carrig Island
Sheep and gosts from Graffa
And pigs from Tullahinel.
There were men with hats and caps
Of every shape and size on,
And women in brown shawls and black,
A sight to feast your eyes on.
The finest fare was to be had
In all the eating places.
A sea of soup and big meat pies,
Some left over from the Races.
Floury spuds and hairy bacon
Asleep on beds of cabbage,
To satisfy a gentleman
A cannibal or savage.
And here and there among the throng
‘tis easy spot the jobbers
Jack O’Dea from County Clare
And Owen McGrath from Nobber.
There was Ryan from Tipperary
And McGinley from Tyrone.
Since ‘twas only Kerry cattle
Could walk that distance home.
And trotting up and down the street
Were frisky mares and stallions,
While here and there in little groups
Drinking porter by the gallons
Were all the travelling people,
The Carthys and the Connors,
The Maughans and the Coffeys-
Gentle folk with gentle manners.
And there you’d see old fashioned men
With moustaches like yard brushes
And more of them with beards that big
You’d take them for sloe bushes.
Up there outside the market gate
A matron old and wrinkled
Was selling salty seagrass
And little bags of winkles.
Inside the gate were country men,
Selling spuds and mangolds
While swarthy men from Egypt
Sold necklaces and bangles
And there you’ll find the laying ducks
Or broody hens for hatching,
Creels of turf and wheaten straw,
With scallops for the thatching.
Dealers down from Dublin
Did there set up their stands,
Selling boots and pinstripe suits
Both new and second hand.
Cups and saucers you could buy
Both singly or in lots,
And for your convenience late at night,
White enamel chamber pots.
If you had an ear for music
You could buy a finch or linnet,
And to bring your winter turf home
A Spanish ass or jennet.
And across at Walshe’s Corner
Stood a ballad singing fellow
Selling sheets- a penny each
Red and white and blue and yellow.
He was an old sean nós man
If you ne’er had music in you
He’s stop you in your stride, man
And you’d not begrudge the penny.
For he’d bring you back to Vinegar Hill
And to Kelly from Killane
Or you’d stand again in Thomas Street
And you’d see the darling man.
But woe alas for the singing man
The Dublin dealer and the drover,
The days of catch whatever you can
Are dead and gone and over.
Now we have fleadhs and Writers’ Weeks
And a plethora of rigmarole
But who remembers as I remember
The big fair in Listowel.
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What a picture! What a man!
This moving image from that brilliant photographer, Valerie O’Sullivan, caught my eye in the newspaper.
I went on to read a bit about the man whose funeral it was. Traolach Sweeney was an extraordinary man. As well as his distinguished Irish military career, he served with the elite tactical unit of the Gendarmerie of France, serving as a French interpreter. He also served in the UN forces in The Lebanon. He was Honorary Secretary of The Kerry Way committee. Traolach was a scuba diver, a mountaineer and a violin player. He was a founder of SCC Broadband connecting the Iveragh Peninsula to broadband. R.I.P. Traolach.
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A Definition
from The Devil’s Dictionary
by Ambrose Bierce
<<<<<<<<
A Fact
Once upon a time, one in every fifty Americans executed for murder had the middle name Wayne.
