Another gem. I love Paul’s impeccable use of the apostrophe, and that he knows when it’s not needed (as in the possessive its). My heart begins to beat a little faster every time I approach the possessive its, but no need with Paul’s writing. There’s a sadness to this well though - stuck beside suburbia and locked. The West is losing belief - even Ireland. Sixty years ago such neglect of a holy place would have been unthinkable. How much has been lost.
Beautiful prose as always. Instantly reminds me of an experience when I was young.
America, land of fast-moving forgetters, doesn't even try to respect holy places. They do exist for a while We lived in a new subdivision that was fast encroaching on the Anderson farm and the Goodnow farm. Goodnow was one of the town founders, and his granddaughter still lived there, now a cranky old lady who yelled at me for playing on their stone walls and junk pile. Anderson was a descendant of the man who had reconsecrated the university to its original purpose of training farmers, after it was desecrated by Harvard-emulators.
The Anderson farm had a cattle pond, with a dam that led to a little creek in a deep valley right next to the encroaching suburban fill. I climbed down from the street into a little private universe, invisible from the street. The creek was a cool and shady and alive place amid the hot concrete and repetitive houses.
Soon, of course, the pond was filled and the creek valley was buried under more manicured lawns and repetitive houses.
The Goodnows were a fascinating bunch. They were Grahamites, a Methodist splinter group that was the exact equivalent of modern Woke tech types. No sex, no meat, no salt, just start IPOs and make lots of money. Capitalist ascetics.
The closest we can come to Paul's musings is in southwest Texas, not far from a family ranch. Pretty violent end to the priests there and no Holy wells. Happy Easter to all, and Christ's rich blessings. See ya'll on the other side of the Resurrection.
Again, what a wonderful story. Just this morning I happened to wonder a bit worryingly: are we near fifty already? How I will miss them! But we're only halfway, thank you Lord. Nice to know that there are three thousand saints in Ireland.
Lovely piece. Ireland has changed so much in the last 30 years, but under the motorways and industrial estates are still these gems of the past. I think these ‘thin places’ are so important....
Thank goodness we're only halfway, they've become an integral part of my Sunday morning. I get up before 7 and do a meandering 6 mile circuit of town and countryside, punctuated about a third of the way round by a simple spoken service of Holy Communion in a wonderful old church.
Then home to breakfast and a Well. Thoroughly nourishing on all levels!
Shame if it’s gone indoors. I remember watching road bowling on my Irish family holidays in the 70s. Two fellas hurling a steel ball along country roads with a huge entourage following. Like golf, the fewest throws needed to get between two points won, lots of money staked and the results in the local paper! I hope it still goes on.
It was funny seeing how many people wanted to line the road in front of the players. Safety in numbers I suppose, the more of us up here the less likely I am to be the one hit.
It still happens here in West Cork, serious gambling to it too, and in Armagh .....my daughters friend met her husband at the Road bowling championships in Armagh (pronounced to rhyme with now!
I actually did take my daughter to the bowling alley for a game. She'd never played before. I used to love bowling, though haven't played for years and was never much good. Nothing was ever the same for me after The Big Lebowski.
Yes, a sad little piece this morning. I wonder who has locked it and who has the key? I once lived at a post office in Recess and there was a well there in the back, nothing proclaiming holiness. But there is a quarry behind it that supplies road rock, or did, and would regularly blast with dynamite to break the rock. The ground would shake with it and my dogs would quiver. One time after such a blast I went to draw some water and discovered hundreds of tiny shrimp-like creatures floating in the water, dead. For road rock. For cars.
There's a poem by Robert Frost, "Directive," one of his best, that complements the feeling in me engendered by these descriptions of forgotten wells. In the poem, the narrator wanders through a forgotten, abandoned village to find an old well behind a house. I'm tempted to quote the final couplet for you all, but I will ascetically deny myself that pleasure, because you should read the whole thing with the final couplet in context. I won't link to it either, because it won't have the same effect on you if you don't take down his volume of collected verse from your shelf and look it up.
There is a splendid book by John Elder called "Reading the Mountains of Home" which uses 'Directive' as a springboard for a wonderful discussion of nature and place. Well worth seeking out.
I do hope you'll make a little pilgrim's guide out of these entries. It would be wonderful to have a guide book handy to the rounds of these wells one day.
Paul, there is an “indigenous” publisher, O’Brien Press, in Dublin. It is run by the founder’s GenX son, Ivan, who basically took it over after graduating from TCD. I know him quite well: he’s Quaker by background but not belief. This sort of guidebook might be just quirky enough to interest him, especially the environmental aspect of these wells. Just a thought.
We do in the Catholic Church - but because they are not so ancient, we don't have quite the same fun legends mixed in - and no wells that I know of, but many shrines:) Examples - St. Damien de Veuster and St. Marianne Cope who ministered to the lepers of Molokai, Hawaii, Native American Saint Kateri Tekakwitha and several that founded schools, hospitals and missions both before and after the US was the US. I believe there are Orthodox Saints especially known for ministering to native populations in Alaska and Canada.
Thank you for these essays. I'm as Protestant as they come, but the heritage of the saints is one the entire Christian body needs to remember and emulate, especially in these times
I absolutely love the holy well series. I am saving up to make my first trip abroad to visit some of them. I’ll join the people who won’t forget so easily. Or rather, the people who are being reminded.
Another gem. I love Paul’s impeccable use of the apostrophe, and that he knows when it’s not needed (as in the possessive its). My heart begins to beat a little faster every time I approach the possessive its, but no need with Paul’s writing. There’s a sadness to this well though - stuck beside suburbia and locked. The West is losing belief - even Ireland. Sixty years ago such neglect of a holy place would have been unthinkable. How much has been lost.
A lot has been lost but , Paul, you are doing a good job to reclaim it!
Beautiful prose as always. Instantly reminds me of an experience when I was young.
America, land of fast-moving forgetters, doesn't even try to respect holy places. They do exist for a while We lived in a new subdivision that was fast encroaching on the Anderson farm and the Goodnow farm. Goodnow was one of the town founders, and his granddaughter still lived there, now a cranky old lady who yelled at me for playing on their stone walls and junk pile. Anderson was a descendant of the man who had reconsecrated the university to its original purpose of training farmers, after it was desecrated by Harvard-emulators.
The Anderson farm had a cattle pond, with a dam that led to a little creek in a deep valley right next to the encroaching suburban fill. I climbed down from the street into a little private universe, invisible from the street. The creek was a cool and shady and alive place amid the hot concrete and repetitive houses.
Soon, of course, the pond was filled and the creek valley was buried under more manicured lawns and repetitive houses.
One of my neighbors was a Goodnow and did a very extensive genealogy. She faithfully went to many reunions. She passed this summer.
The Goodnows were a fascinating bunch. They were Grahamites, a Methodist splinter group that was the exact equivalent of modern Woke tech types. No sex, no meat, no salt, just start IPOs and make lots of money. Capitalist ascetics.
That’s very interesting.
The closest we can come to Paul's musings is in southwest Texas, not far from a family ranch. Pretty violent end to the priests there and no Holy wells. Happy Easter to all, and Christ's rich blessings. See ya'll on the other side of the Resurrection.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mission_Santa_Cruz_de_San_Sab%C3%A1
Again, what a wonderful story. Just this morning I happened to wonder a bit worryingly: are we near fifty already? How I will miss them! But we're only halfway, thank you Lord. Nice to know that there are three thousand saints in Ireland.
Lovely piece. Ireland has changed so much in the last 30 years, but under the motorways and industrial estates are still these gems of the past. I think these ‘thin places’ are so important....
As an American awash in the emptiness of our culture I so appreciate these Sunday morning escapes
Seconded. I sometimes envy the deep history of Europe.
Thank goodness we're only halfway, they've become an integral part of my Sunday morning. I get up before 7 and do a meandering 6 mile circuit of town and countryside, punctuated about a third of the way round by a simple spoken service of Holy Communion in a wonderful old church.
Then home to breakfast and a Well. Thoroughly nourishing on all levels!
So after all holy stuff down at Coran's, did ya actually have a game of bowling?
I always loved a bit of bowling in the day.
Shame if it’s gone indoors. I remember watching road bowling on my Irish family holidays in the 70s. Two fellas hurling a steel ball along country roads with a huge entourage following. Like golf, the fewest throws needed to get between two points won, lots of money staked and the results in the local paper! I hope it still goes on.
That sounds awesome! I think we should start a movement to get the whole steel ball hurling up and running again…😆
It was funny seeing how many people wanted to line the road in front of the players. Safety in numbers I suppose, the more of us up here the less likely I am to be the one hit.
It still happens here in West Cork, serious gambling to it too, and in Armagh .....my daughters friend met her husband at the Road bowling championships in Armagh (pronounced to rhyme with now!
I actually did take my daughter to the bowling alley for a game. She'd never played before. I used to love bowling, though haven't played for years and was never much good. Nothing was ever the same for me after The Big Lebowski.
yeah, I know what you mean: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gU2ZgaQ_H-Y
Happy Palm Sunday!
The Dude , and I dare say , Paul , abides!🎳
Yes, a sad little piece this morning. I wonder who has locked it and who has the key? I once lived at a post office in Recess and there was a well there in the back, nothing proclaiming holiness. But there is a quarry behind it that supplies road rock, or did, and would regularly blast with dynamite to break the rock. The ground would shake with it and my dogs would quiver. One time after such a blast I went to draw some water and discovered hundreds of tiny shrimp-like creatures floating in the water, dead. For road rock. For cars.
I too look forward to these Sunday morning missives.
Even the neglected, suburban surrounding wells hold magic if we have the eyes to see. Thanks for showing us.
There's a poem by Robert Frost, "Directive," one of his best, that complements the feeling in me engendered by these descriptions of forgotten wells. In the poem, the narrator wanders through a forgotten, abandoned village to find an old well behind a house. I'm tempted to quote the final couplet for you all, but I will ascetically deny myself that pleasure, because you should read the whole thing with the final couplet in context. I won't link to it either, because it won't have the same effect on you if you don't take down his volume of collected verse from your shelf and look it up.
Yes, a very fine poem!
There is a splendid book by John Elder called "Reading the Mountains of Home" which uses 'Directive' as a springboard for a wonderful discussion of nature and place. Well worth seeking out.
I do hope you'll make a little pilgrim's guide out of these entries. It would be wonderful to have a guide book handy to the rounds of these wells one day.
Paul, there is an “indigenous” publisher, O’Brien Press, in Dublin. It is run by the founder’s GenX son, Ivan, who basically took it over after graduating from TCD. I know him quite well: he’s Quaker by background but not belief. This sort of guidebook might be just quirky enough to interest him, especially the environmental aspect of these wells. Just a thought.
Hmm don’t know much about Saints. Do we have them in America?
We do in the Catholic Church - but because they are not so ancient, we don't have quite the same fun legends mixed in - and no wells that I know of, but many shrines:) Examples - St. Damien de Veuster and St. Marianne Cope who ministered to the lepers of Molokai, Hawaii, Native American Saint Kateri Tekakwitha and several that founded schools, hospitals and missions both before and after the US was the US. I believe there are Orthodox Saints especially known for ministering to native populations in Alaska and Canada.
Thanks I will explore more
Terry, here are the Orthodox saints so far (most were born elsewhere but served in America in some capacity):
https://www.oca.org/fs/north-american-saints
Also, Blessed Olga of Alaska will be glorified probably this year:
https://www.oca.org/fs/proclamation-glorification-righteous-matushka-olga
Dana
That’s really nice of you , thanks
This is a sad one. So many people so close and nobody paying any heed to it. It certainly does reflect the spiritual state of our times.
Wow. I'd love to know the thought process behind the French girl pose of that one statue.
Thank you for these essays. I'm as Protestant as they come, but the heritage of the saints is one the entire Christian body needs to remember and emulate, especially in these times
We seem to have abandoned our martyrs, too, so immersed in ourselves.
One of the saddest aspects of evangelical Protestantism is its neglect of the past, even its own past, for a blaring and often thin present
I absolutely love the holy well series. I am saving up to make my first trip abroad to visit some of them. I’ll join the people who won’t forget so easily. Or rather, the people who are being reminded.