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

Tag: Dick Carmody Page 1 of 3

Listowel, World Centre of Modern Celtic Art

June 2024

Listowel Centre Stage at the Day of Celebration of Celtic Art

International Day of Celtic ArtIDCA Online Conference

SPEAKER: Stephen Rynne

TOPIC: Celtic Arts Podcast Discussion & Launch

TOPIC: Listowel, The World Capital of Modern Celtic Art

Stephen lives in the West of Ireland where he raises his three children after being widowed in 2012. He has an Honours BSc. from Oxford Brookes University in England and he has been caring for his son who has Epidermolysis Bullosa and Autism since his birth.

In 2019 he discovered, fell in love and picked up all he can to do with the Celtic Arts, in particular Modern Celtic Art from the late 1800s onward. Having spent years discovering the joys of Celtic Art he has decided to put his discoveries to good use in a podcast called ‘Celtic Arts Podcast’ that launches at the International Day of Celtic Art Conference, 2024

________________________________________

BE SURE TO REGISTER:

https://us06web.zoom.us/…/tZMkf-uurjgpGdHR242SJQQvtc0R…

EVENT CALENDAR {According to your own time zone}: 

https://teamup.com/ksh7rbwbu4otdgusji

CELTIC FRAME CREDIT: Shelby Whitesell

These presentations by Stephen are well worth attending. We are lucky in that they are now available in a livestream online.

Michael O’Connor formerly of No. 24 The Square Listowel is, without doubt, Listowel’s greatest visual artist. Some of his work is displayed in Kerry Writers’ Museum, his former home.

Stephen in his presentation to this year’s international conference will present the work, not only of O’Connor, but also the incomparable work of Listowel artists like Pat Mc Aulliffe and the inimitable Paddy Fitzgibbon.

There is nothing remotely like this anywhere in the world. Listowel is grateful to Stephen for bringing world attention to this under appreciated genius.

Opening Night LWW 2024

Here are a few photos I took on May 29 2024

Matt and Mary are regulars at Arts events in town, particularly if such events are as Gaeilge and involve two of Matt’s passions, music and poetry.

Dick is another amateur poet. Eileen and Dick discovered a connection with me through this blog recently. I posted a picture of Castlemagner church. Dick recognised the beautiful exposed stonework of a church he and Eileen had seen when they attended a wedding in the late 1960s. Fact is often stranger than fiction. Eileen is a great friend of one of my Kanturk cousins and she and Dick attended the wedding of Julie O’Callaghan, who was Eileen’s pal in nurse training, to the late Flor Sullivan (Tourist).

There really are only three degrees of separation.

Friends, Ena, Jean and Áine

Mary Frances and Helena

Jim and Mrs. MacMahon

Con, Catherine and Seán were there to enjoy the occasion.

A Poem

Brian Bilston is an extraordinary poet. He hits the nail on the head every time.

A Fact

Laughing 100 times is equal to 15 minutes of exercise on a stationary bicycle.

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Pitching In

Main Street Listowel March 17 2023

Liam Brennan as St. Patrick leads the parade down Church Street in sunny Listowel on St. Patrick’s Day 2023.

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Listowel Pitch and Putt Club

Tom O’Halloran took a few photos of drainage works under way in the days when everybody pitched in and got dirty.

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Man’s Friend ; The Robin

Photo; Bertie, the robin by Chris Grayson

Robin by Dick Carmody

The
Robin……          

            …….companion for a reluctant gardener.

Reluctantly I kneel to tend my garden, derived of some pride, devoid of great pleasure

Painstakingly I toil to keep apace of mother nature, as weeds compete with work rate

Then I am suddenly less aware on my ownliness, a companion ever present at my side

The Robin makes his predictable welcome appearance to distract from my discomfort.

Red-breasted, he sits proud upon the boundary wall to watch my laboured movement

Takes pride in that he fanned the fire in Bethlehem’s stable to keep the Baby warm

And how the flames had burned his then colourless breast to testify his zealousness

Or was it when he pulled the thorn from Jesus’ brow on his way to cross on Calvary

And now carries his blood-stained feathers as if to show his favoured ranking.

At arms length he follows my every move, often playing hide and seek with me    

Standing tall or sometimes with head erect, motionless he stares me eye to eye

I could believe him God-sent, no other bird in sight in hedgerow or on leafless tree

Or is it just that he sees me as his meal-ticket, as I gather and discard the
fallen leaves

Exposing tasty morsels in the unfrozen ground to help him cope with winter’s worst.

I move along, hunched on bended knee, he follows cautiously close behind, beside

Sometimes out of sight, I seek him out again and know I will not be disappointed

For sure enough he’s back again here, there and everywhere, not taken for granted

Now gardening is less of a chore as I’m gifted a companion, my new forever friend.

©
Dick Carmody                                           

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Celtic Art Postage Stamps

These recent stamps are based on The Book of Kells.

This is what An Post says about them.

Over half a million visitors view the Book of Kells at Trinity College, Dublin, each year but, on February 23, you will have the opportunity to lay your hands on two stamps that feature beautiful illustrations from this masterpiece.

The Book of Kells is widely credited as being the most renowned of all medieval illuminated manuscripts for its intricacy, detail and, particularly, the majesty of the illustrations. Measuring 330 x 255mm, the book is an illuminated manuscript of the four gospels of the Christian New Testament. It was reputedly created by Columban monks c800 AD.

The two stamp designs feature details of the profile of a lion’s head, a symbol of Christ and his resurrection. The FDC image represents a cat apprehending a rodent in possession of a communion host. The illustrations on some pages highlight how, in medieval monasteries, cats were seen to preserve the supply of food for body (and soul – chasing mice breaking into stores of Communion hosts.)

The images in the Book of Kells are called miniatures and were painted by artists who were known as miniaturists and later as illuminators. Abstract decoration and images of plant, animal and human ornament punctuate the text with the aim of glorifying Jesus’ life and message.

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Your help is Needed

Good morning.  My Name is Allen O’Callaghan and I live in Omaha, Nebraska, USA.  I’ve been pursuing my families history in Ireland, and particularly in the towns of Listowel and Ballybunion.  My G—G grandfather owned properties in both towns, as well as agricultural properties south of Listowel.  His name was Gerard J. O’Callaghan (1808-1888) and apparently prominent as he was in the local newspapers quite often.  He had a daughter named Mary Jane O’Callaghan (1845-1923), who professed with the sisters-of-mercy as Sr. M M Louis.  According to census records she was Mother Superior of a convent in Ballybunion.  I’m having problems reconciling modern day locations with the family lore and actual known records.  At one point I was told that a family home called Sea View Lodge was given to the Catholic Church.  If you have any knowledge of any of these old locations and/or can recommend any available histories I can review, I’d be very much appreciative.  

Sincerely

Allen O’Callaghan

If you can help Allen will you contact me on listowelconnection@gmail.com and I’ll put you in touch with Allen.

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A Robin, Listowel’s Carnegie Library Remembered and signs of Spring at last

Ode to a robin

Chris Grayson photographed this robin as it breakfasted on a meal worm.

Dick Carmody wrote his robin a poem.

The Robin……           

            …….companion for a reluctant gardener.

Reluctantly I kneel to tend my garden, derived of some pride, devoid of great pleasure

Painstakingly I toil to keep apace of mother nature, as weeds compete with work rate

Then I am suddenly less aware on my ownliness, a companion ever present at my side

The Robin makes his predictable welcome appearance to distract from my discomfort.

Red-breasted, he sits proud upon the boundary wall to watch my laboured movement

Takes pride in that he fanned the fire in Bethlehem’s stable to keep the Baby warm

And how the flames had burned his then colourless breast to testify his zealousness

Or was it when he pulled the thorn from Jesus’ brow on his way to cross on Calvary

And now carries his blood-stained feathers as if to show his favoured ranking.

At arms length he follows my every move, often playing hide and seek with me     

Standing tall or sometimes with head erect, motionless he stares me eye to eye 

I could believe him God-sent, no other bird in sight in hedgerow or on leafless tree

Or is it just that he sees me as his meal-ticket, as I gather and discard the fallen leaves

Exposing tasty morsels in the unfrozen ground to help him cope with winter’s worst.

I move along, hunched on bended knee, he follows cautiously close behind, beside 

Sometimes out of sight, I seek him out again and know I will not be disappointed

For sure enough he’s back again here, there and everywhere, not taken for granted

Now gardening is less of a chore as I’m gifted a companion, my new forever friend.

© Dick Carmody                                                                                November, 2013.

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Listowel’s Library used to be housed in this elegant building. This is how it looked on Saturday February 17 2018. My friend, Helen, is crossing the road in the foreground.

Recent posts about the old library prompted memories for some blog followers.

Michael O’Sullivan sent us this clarification;

Hello Mary,

Everybody blamed the Black and Tans for burning the library in the bridge road in March 1921. But with access to the military witness statements in recent years it was revealed that the Listowel volunteers burned it as they feared the British were going to use it as a base. The great house a mile away in Tanavalla suffered the same fate in 1920,

Regards,

Michael O’ Sullivan


Mention of the library brought Cyril Kelly back to his boyhood and a memorable visit to the library with his inspirational teacher, Bryan MacMahon. Cyril shares with us this essay which was broadcast on `Sunday Miscellany;

CARNEGIE
LIBRARY   by Cyril Kelly

This
was the man who led us, both literally and metaphorically, from the classroom
every day. This was The Master, our Pied Piper, who was forever bugling a
beguiling tune, a tune sparkling with grace notes of the imagination. He’d have
us on the white steed behind Niamh, her golden fleece romping in our faces.
Transformed by his telling we had mutated into forty spellbound Oisíns.
Knockanore was disappearing in our wake. The briny tang of the ocean was in our
nostrils, bidding us to keep a westward course, forbidding us to glance back at
our broken hearted father, Fionn. We were heading for the land of eternal
youth, Tír na nÓg.

On
the very next antidotal day, we’d be traipsing after him, into the graveyard
beside the school. The narrow paths, with no beginning and no end criss-crossed
the place like some zoomorphic motif. We were on a mission to see who would be
the first to spot a headstone which was decorated with a Celtic design. The
diligent boys leading the line were in danger of overtaking the laggards at the
tail who were hissing that, in the dark recesses of the slightly open tomb,
they had seen, staring back at them, a yella skull.

But,
on very special days, we crossed the road to the Carnegie Library. Master
McMahon told us that it was the most magical building in the whole town. Even
the whole world, if it came to that. He told us that we were so lucky because
Andrew Carnegie, the richest man on earth, had bought all of these books for
us. We were amazed because none of us knew Andrew and we felt sure that he
didn’t know any of us. As a matter of fact, not one of us knew anyone who
bought books, either for us or for anyone else. Master McMahon said that the
Librarian, Maisie Gleeson, was minding the books for Carnegie and, especially
for the boys in 3rd class.

On
our first day in the library, we all had to line up on tippy-toes at Maisie’s
desk to scratch our names with nervous N-nibs on green cards. Maisie eyed us
all over her spectacles, welcoming each one of us ominously by name, telling us
that she knew our mothers and woe-be-tide anyone who didn’t behave themselves,
particularly any boy who did not take good care of Andrew’s books.

If you have a book,boys, Master McMahon’s voice was echoing around us. If you have a book, boys, you have an exciting friend.

Drumming
his fingers along a shelf, humming to himself, he flicked one of the books from
its place, tumbling it into his arms. Turning towards us, he held it like a
trophy in the air.

The Clue of The Twisted
Candle. Nancy Drew, boys. She’s a beauty. Blonde, like Niamh Cinn Óir. Solves
exciting mysteries for her father.

The
Master took his time to scan our expectant faces.

Here, Mickey,proffering the book to Mikey Looby whose father was a detective. Why don’t you sit down there at that table.
Read the first few chapters. See what Nancy Drew is up to this time.

Turning
to the shelves again, The Master threw back over his shoulder; Sure if I know anything, Mikey, you’ll
probably solve the mystery before she does.
Mikey, clasping the book in his
arms, stumbled to the nearest chair, thirty nine pairs of envious eyes fastened
to him. Sure it’s in the blood, Mikey
boy. It’s in the blood.

Selecting
another book, The Master faced us once more. This time he called on Dan
Driscoll.

I saw you driving your
father’s pony and cart to the fair last week. Three of the lovliest pink plump
bonavs you had. And what a fine looking pony Dan Driscoll has, boys.

Well, here in my hand I’m
holding Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey. This man is a fantastic story
teller. He’ll take you to the frontier lands of America. I promise that you’ll
see and smell the rolling plains of Wyoming more clearly than if you were in
the Plaza cinema down the street. You’ll ride with cowboys, you’ll hear the
neighing not of ponies but of palominos. You’ll meet deadly gunmen, boys, noble
Red Indians. And on the headstones in Boothill, boys, you won’t find any Celtic
designs.
And there, in the vastness of the library,
The Master’s youthful tenor voice startled the silence; Take me back to the Black Hills/ The Black Hills of Dakota/ To the
beautiful Indian country that I love.
By the time he was finished he was
besieged by a posse of outstretched hands and beseeching cries of SirSirSir.
Every one of us was demented to get our paws on that book, any book.

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Spring 2018…….at last!



A meander around town on June 2 2017

Where they Lived and Where they Lie Tour of Listowel 2017 (continued)


It is Listowel Writers Week 2017 and we are on our Friday walking tour of the town with Vincent Carmody. The theme of the walk is Listowel and its people. Carrying on from yesterday, we are now in The Small Square or more correctly Main Street.

Here at the statue that stands to her father, John B. Keane, Joanna O’Flynn read his poem to his father.

We wandered on to Tae Lane and the premises which was once the restaurant of Sandy Fitzgerald. Here we had poems from John Fitzgerald and Dick Carmody.

Next stop was the entrance to the old mart. Joe Stack read Bryan MacMahon’s account of how he ensured that the bag of spuds he would buy in the market would be the best on offer.


Joe Stack

Paddy Fitzgibbon

Thomas Ashe

A small section of the attentive and appreciative audience.

John MacAulliffe read his own poem about a sad weekend after the Harvest Racing Festival.

Kay Caball deputised for John Pierse and reminded us of a time when it wasn’t all fun and games. She read from John’s scholarly account of The Great Famine in his book, Teampall Bán.

On to William Street and Tony Behan read a poem called The Printer’s on the Tack which Bryan MacMahon wrote about his friend, Bob Cuthbertson who was living through a period of sobriety.

Another Bryan MacMahon came from Ballyheigue to follow the tour.

Eamon Ó Murchú celebrated Tim Enright, a little known Listowel classical scholar and translator.

Paddy Glavin read one of his own poems.

Knockanure Local recorded some of the bits I missed HERE

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An Appeal


I missed a great evening in Duagh as Fr. Pat Moore’s birthday was celebrated. Would anyone have a recording of the tributes or the choir to share with people who, like me, would love to have been there but couldn’t.

Family Communion and Some More people I met at Writers’ Week

This is a photo from a Lyreacrompane website of children in Lyre school fadó fadó. I thought people might like to be identifying themselves or others.

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Róisín’s Communion


Communions are not what they used to be. My lovely granddaughter made her First Holy Communion in Ballincollig, Co. Cork on Saturday May 27 2017.

She was chosen to sing the responsorial psalm with a tall boy.



She looked sweet and demure and took the whole sacrament part very seriously….and then

Siobhán of Siobhán’s Designer Cakes in Iremore made her unconventional cake featuring her favourite comic character.


The communion loot included fidget spinners, book tokens, Monster High dolls and a Rubix cube


And, of course, some dosh.

We had a communion penata. If you’re not familiar with this communion tradition, it is a hoot. Everyone was on a sugar high after it released it’s bounty of sweets. Then it was time for some Communion Day trampolining with her best friend, Orla.

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More People I met in The Listowel Arms at Writers’ Week 2017


Anne and Liam Dillon and visitors

These men were debriefing after the mornings walk.

Eileen Greaney was having a cuppa and a chat.

Some Listowel and Moyvane people were meeting up with old friends.



These lovely folk were starting a singing session and it was only 12.00 noon.


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