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: Knockanure Page 2 of 4

Listowel Toilets, Halls in Knockanure, More St. Patrick’s Day Photos and Daffodil Day 2019

Market Street, Listowel in March 2019

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More Photos fromThe Parade 2019



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Spending a Penny In Listowel

This public convenience is in Market Street, Listowel. It is costing us a fortune in maintenance and it is rarely used. We are all half afraid of it and it appears to me that visitors to town are the only patrons.

Michael Guerin posted an amusing video on Facebook detailing the locations of previous toilets.

Listowel Toilets

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Knockanure Dancehalls



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Now and Then



Same corner but without the public phone kiosks

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Daffodil Day 2019



I missed Daffodil Day in town this year but as you can see from these photos posted on Facebook, the hard working volunteers covered every corner of town and had another very successful fundraising day.

Knockanore Graveyard, A Mattie Lennon Story and An Gleann took the Honours in 1971

Incomparable Stucco Detail at McKenna’s


Understated timeless elegance well worth preserving

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Knockanore Then and Now


Photo; Kerry Archeological Magazine


Knockanore Today


This lovely hill top burial place has within its confines the ruins of an old church. Since graveyards were originally churchyards it is quite common to see the remains of the old church still standing in today’s cemeteries. It is not usual to see graves within the wall of the church.

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A Mattie Lennon Story with a Listowel Connection


BEGGARS CAN BE CHOOSERS

By Mattie Lennon

“Les bons pauvres ne savent pas que leur office est d’exercer Notre gererosite.” (The poor don’t know that their function in life is to Exercise our generosity.)

Jean-Paul Sarte.

Isn’t it wonderful that the stupid law (The Vagrancy (Ireland) Act 1847) has been found to be unconstitutional.

It reminds me of the first time I met the late John B.Keane in Grafton Street, in Dublin. He was being ushered Brown-Thomas-ward by his spouse. And cooperating fully: unusual for a husband. I accosted him to say thanks for his prompt reply when I had written to him shortly before requesting information for an article I was writing.

We were about thirty seconds into the conversation when an adult male with a lacerated face and looking very much the worse for wear approached me. The polystyrene cup in his outstretched hand proclaimed that he would not be offended by a donation.

I contributed 20p (I think). Ireland’s best-known playwright turned his back, (I’m sure he picked up the gesture in the Stacks Mountains as a young fellow) extracted a substantial amount and gave to the needy. I then thought that a man who had written about everything from cornerboys to the aphrodisiac properties of goat’s milk could enlighten me on an enigma, which I had been pondering for decades.

You see, dear reader, if I were talking to you on a public thoroughfare anywhere in the world and a beggar was in the vicinity he would ignore you as if he was a politician and you were a voter after an election. But he would home in on me. I don’t know why. Maybe, contrary to popular opinion, I have a kind face. Come to think of it that’s not the reason. Because I have, on many occasions, been approached from the rear. Many a time in a foreign city my wife thought I was being mugged. When in fact it was just a local with broken, or no English who had decided to ask Mattie Lennon for a small amount of whatever the prevailing currency was. Maybe those people have knowledge of Phrenology and the shape of my weather-beaten head, even when viewed from behind, reveals the fact that I am a soft touch.

However, a foreman gave a more practical explanation to the boss, on a building site where I was employed many years ago. The site was contiguous to a leafy street in what is now fashionable Dublin 4 and those from the less affluent section of society used to ferret me out there. Pointing a toil-worn, knarled, forefinger at me the straight-talking foreman, Matt Fagen, explained the situation to the builder, Peter Ewing, a mild mannered, pipe-smoking, kindly Scot. “Every tinker an’ tramp in Dublin is coming to this house, an’ all because o’ dat hoor……because dat hoor is here…an’ they know he’s one o’ themselves.”

 I was relating this to John B. adding, ” I seem to attract them.”

 To which he promptly replied;” (calling on the founder of his religion). You do.”

 The reason for his rapid expression of agreement was standing at my elbow in the person of yet another of our marginalized brethren with outstretched hand.

 So the best-known Kerryman since Kitchener left me none the wiser as to why complete strangers mistake me for Saint Francis of Assisi.

 And salutations such as “hello” or “Good morning” are replaced by “How are ye fixed?”, “Are you carrying” and, in the old days, “Have you a pound you wouldn’t be usin’ “?

 I do not begrudge the odd contribution to the less well off and I am not complaining that I am often singled out as if I was the only alms-giver. Come to think of it, it is, I suppose, a kind of a compliment.

 Sometimes I say ; “I was just going to ask you”, but I always give something and I don’t agree with Jack Nicholson who says; ” The only way to avoid people who come up to you wanting stuff all the time is to ask first. It freaks them out.” Those unfortunate people are bad enough without freaking them out.

Of course there are times when it is permissible not to meet each request with a contribution. I recall an occasion in the distant, pre-decimal days when a man who believed that, at all times, even the most meagre of funds should be shared, approached my late father for five pounds. When asked ; ” Would fifty shillings be any use to you?” he conceded that yes, half a loaf would be better than no bread.

Lennon Senior replied; “Right. The next fiver I find I’ll give you half of it.”

 Of course none of us know the day or the hour we’ll be reduced to begging. In the meantime I often thought of begging as an experiment. But I wouldn’t have what it takes. Not even the most high powered advertising by Building Societies and other financial establishments can restore my confidence, to ask for money in any shape or form, which was irreparably damaged when I asked a Blessington shopkeeper for a loan of a pound nearly forty years ago.

 He said; I’d give you anything, son….but it’s agin the rule o’ the house.”

 I wonder was he a pessimist. It has been said that you should always borrow from a pessimist; he doesn’t expect it back. Well recently I was in a restaurant when a work colleague texted me asking to borrow a small amount of money……he was seated two tables away.

 As JFK said in his inaugural speech: ” If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.”

I don’t know about the rich but I have learned one thing about the poor;

 BEGGARS CAN BE CHOOSERS.

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An Gleann, Winners of the Street League in 1971

John Kelliher posted this old one on Facebook and here are the names as he had them with a little help from his friends.

Jerry Kelliher behind Tony O’Donoghue then John Driscoll , I think that’s Pete Sugrue alongside J D. Richard Connor back holding the pup and Tony Donoghue beside him. 

Front Left Vincent O Connor, Eileen Kelliher holding the cup. I think that’s Fongo in front of Tony Donoghue 

 Bendigo next to Vincent and I nearly sure it’s Donal Brown next RIP. Donal Brown was captain.


Knockanure, John B. on Coaxiorum, A Fan Letter and Milk Stands

Corran Tuathail by Chris Grayson

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Knockanure 2006



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Coaxiorum by John B. Keane


SONNY CANAVAN assures me that the love potion known as Coaxiorum exists and is still in use not far from where he lives. Others have told me that same thing. Willie Finucane and Jack McElligott were offered doses of it but declined to take it on the grounds that natural love was better than artificial. I asked Canavan if he knew what the formula was. He had a rough idea but could not come up with the identity of one ingredient.

“All I know,” said Canavan, “is that it grows in the bog and it’s like a water leaf but it isn’t a water leaf.”

He told me that Coaxiorum was very common when he was a boy but that its use had declined altogether since the Second World War.

“I seen a man to cycle from Carlow on a false account,” Canavan told myself and Professor Phil Deane, who came to see Canavan about bodhráns. Apparently it was 1940 and one evening a man on a bicycle appeared in Dirha West. He asked the whereabouts of a certain woman and he was taken to her. He produced a five pound note, a lot of money in those days, and offered it to her for a dose of Coaxiorum but when she learned he wanted to use it on his master’s wife, she cleared him from the place. So much for Coaxiorum. Maybe some of my readers will have a word or two to say about love potions.

John B. Keane

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Warming the Cockles of my Heart




This is the Braden family of Chicago.

I have been overwhelmed recently by the supportive mail and personal approaches I received from people far and near who read the blog. I’m printing one representative one but I am deeply grateful for them all.

Brigid Braden gets the accolade for the best email. I’m posting it here with a big thank you to Brigid for making my day.

Dearest Mary,
Almost every night before I go to bed in Chicago, your email from Listowel Connection pops up in my in-box, and I get the biggest smile on my face. I love to happily check in on Listowel before I go to bed.  Tonight after reading your post with “Unwelcome Letters” I could not go to bed before sending you off a note. 

You bring such joy, to so many.  And the ones with joy sure don’t let you know it enough I’m sure because I should be writing to you every other day to tell you about how a story touched me and made me dwell for quite a time in a happy place.  Not to mention how many times a sister or brother would contact me the next day and say “Did you see (insert story) on Listowel Connection” and want to talk more about it.  

Mary, you are doing wonderful work!  I love the John B. response you put up there.  And don’t you know, I’m sure my siblings will be calling me tomorrow to talk about it.  I will be talking to my young kids as well about it, because it is the world around us we are living in.  Don’t we know about it in the USA for sure now.  The crazies almost feel to outnumber the sane, but in truth they are just shouting the loudest for a time. 

Just know, you are a shining light to many and bringing out the best of us and in us.  Thanks a million.  We love you!! And keep up the fantastic work!  

Faithfully,

Brigid Braden
Ps.   I owe you a lunch next time I’m in Listowel. We were coming in with a big family group in July 2016 to Allos and you fell ill.  I’m sorry it has taken so long to get back to you, but have a feeling our paths are sure to cross. Three Cheers!!
A few of your Chicago fans::

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Milk Stands




Last week I posted this photo of the milk stand at my old family home in Kanturk, little suspecting what fond memories it would evoke for so many blog followers.

Love the milk-stand-and building- all nicely cared for and painted. Where I come from, milk-stands were often located at crossroads and the farmers would bring their tanks there. The lorry would travel a main route and collect all the tanks at junctions with minor roads.”

When I travel the Nadd road from my home in Kanturk to Cork I pass such a crossroads. It has a sign saying Welcome to Donoughmore beside a piece of roadside art depicting two milk churns on a milk stand. I searched the internet for a photograph of this. I didn’t find it but I did find another piece of roadside art along the same theme.

This photo by a lady who blogs as Irish American Mom is in Kildorrery in Co. Cork

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Boyeens No More



My beloved grandsons all grown up and off to secondary school.



Knockanure, Charles Street friends, Fr. Roger and Doran’s Pharmacy, Church Street

Photo: Chris Grayson

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Knockanure parish church in May 2018

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First Communion, Knockanure May 2018


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Boyhood Friends


Martin Griffin gave me this old photo to share with you.

In front;  Billy Dore, Dominick Scanlon and Richie Chute R.I.P.

Back Buddy Jones and Frank Chute

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Convent Chapel May 2018



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R.I.P.   Fr. Roger Duggan

Last week I attended the funeral mass of Fr. Roger Duggan in St. Mary’s Listowel. It was a small funeral, because, in the words of Fr. John Fitzgerald who celebrated the mass, Roger had become a Kerryman only recently.

Fr. Roger was far from “unknown” and during his life he had travelled and served and sang and had many adventures.

As was fitting for a man who loved music his funeral mass featured some of the most heavenly music I have heard in St. Mary’s, Listowel.

So who was this gentle holy man?

Fr. Roger Duggan was the only brother of Una Hayes, whom I have come to know through our both belonging to the  Knitwits knitting group.

Una and Roger were born in Wales to Irish parents. They moved to Birmingham and it is here that Roger and Una grew up.

Roger worked in Wales, in England and eventually in Australia. His cv is very diverse. He worked in taxation, in sheep shearing, in the hospitality industry and in railway building.

Eventually this very intelligent and well read man decided on a life in the religious order of Missionaries of the Sacred Heart.  He was ordained in 1993 and spent his life in ministry in Australia.

When he retired, he relocated to Cork. He took up a new role as chaplain to the local convent and he helped out with the work of the parish.

When he fell into ill health it was decided that he would be happiest nearer to his beloved Una and her husband Liam and so he spent his last years being well looked after in Oaklands Nursing Home.

May he rest in peace

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Doran’s Pharmacy, Listowel opening





I disturbed Norma and staff as they put the finishing touches to her new shop. Outside, the final brush was being put to the paint.

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Things ar Hotting up in the Writers’ Week office




All hands on deck, shoulders to the wheel and noses to the grindstone. Writers Week 2018 is 2 days away.



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Nathan Carter meets a Star and her husband



Another Anniversary, St. John’s Window of Reconciliation and Paddy Drury Remembered

This shrine to St. Teresa, who’s feast day occurs in November. It is in the Church of St. John In Ballincollig.

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November is a time for remembering our loved ones who have passed to their eternal reward. I am going to share with you a piece from a lovely book  called Irish Stories of Love and Hope which was produced a few years ago to raise money for the Irish Hospice.

Another
Anniversary

Peter Fallon

You turn

Hearing the joy

Of football

In the yard

You yearn

For the footfall

Of the lost

The scarred.

Again and again

And again

You feel the sten-

Gun attack

Of that “What if?”

And that, ‘What
then?”

Well then he’d be
a boy

Who’s ten.

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St. John’s, Tralee, new Window



This is the Window of Reconciliation and it was blessed by Bishop Ray Browne on October 27 2017




My photograph does not do it justice so you’ll have to go to see it for yourself.

The window was executed by Thomas Denny who is a descendant of the Dennis of Tralee.

It is in three panels, each panel evoking reconciliation. The central panel depicts the prodigal son as he is embraced on his return by his delighted father. The right hand panel is inspired by Jesus reading from the book of Isaiah.

In the left hand panel, St. John, patron of the parish sets forth filled with The Holy Spirit.

I took this information from a leaflet I picked up in the church. It also told me that this is the first new stained glass window in the church in 60 years.

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A Few Photos I took on the day of the recent performance of his Tom Crean Show by Aidan Dooley


Rose Wall with Aidan

Eilish Wren bought Aidan’s book

Elaine Kinsella with Tom Crean actor and writer, Aidan Dooley

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John Griffin Again




This is the very competent O’Sullivan team who were looking after the sound and lighting and the media content on the day of The Young Adult Book Fest in Listowel Community Centre. On the right is John Griffin whose mother is originally from Listowel.

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A Paddy Drury Story as remembered by Jerry Histon


When Paddy came home from his war work in Scotland after the 1914 1918 war, he had, of course, some money spared. After hitting Listowel he met two cronies and took them in for a few drinks. At the time drink was very scarce and it was suggested that certain publicans were not above eking out the supply of drink with materials that never saw the distillery. Anyway, Paddy asked the lady inside the bar for “three glasses of whiskey”. When those were downed, Paddy called the woman again “Mrs, give us three more glasses of nearly!” The lady was puzzled”What nearly?” she asked. ” nearly water, ma’am,”  Paddy shot at her, to her consternation.

A missioner, giving a retreat Moyvane, asked Paddy: “what is the difference between God’s mother and your mother?” I don’t know, but I do know there was an awful difference between their two sons!” Was Paddy’s humble reply.

Paddy hired with a local farmer and one of the conditions was that he should be home for The rosary each night. The man of the house generally offered up the rosary for “myself and my four and no more!” One night the farmer asked Paddy to offer the rosary. Paddy had a few drinks on board and was, anyhow, getting tired of the farmer, So his offering was “I offered this rosary for  myself and no more!”

<<<<<<<< An Important Correction re Drury Knockanure Satire >>>>>>>>



This correction is provided by a Knockanure local and the correction of the correction by Vincent Carmody. Thanks.

“The Rhyme about Knockanure was written by John O’Sullivan.  John, from Charles Street, was a reporter for the Kerryman. His daughter May Kathleen followed in his footsteps.  She was also married to an O’Sullivan. May Kathleen’s uncle was the famous journalists, T F. O’Sullivan.

( Eamon Kelly’s father in law was. Michael O Sullivan, from the Beara Peninsula, he was an Irish teacher in St Michael’s. He had nothing to do with the O’Sullivan satirised in this rhyme.

Drury wrote about John O’Sullivan.

In Listowel Town, there lives a clown, 

who would sell his soul for porter,

Sullivan John is the man,

 a dirty mean reporter.”

And


This Knockanure Local also had a photograph of Paddy Drury

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A Wedding in the Behan Family

I took these photos of The Horseshoe window on November 17 2017


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