Resident Scholars of the A.P.I.
St. Patrick's Day - The Shaughnessy Crest, Wilde, and Snakes
Years ago, I embroidered the Shaughnessy crest on a shirt for my father. It was on the right front opposite the pocket. I did an additional design for him on the back of the shirt based on a combined idea of Native American shields and the hex designs of the Pennsylvania Dutch. I didn't get to grow up with my father due to divorce and distance, so I went to look for him after I was an adult.
My dad was a WWII veteran of The Battle of the Bulge and his dad, my grandfather, fought with the Canadian Black Watch in Europe during WWI. Both men were told they were fighting the war to end all wars. Both fought to serve their countries and to keep their children from having to serve as cannon fodder for the ruling class. Promises were made and promises were broken.
We relived history during the unnecessary Vietnam war, are repeating the same historical mistakes in the Iraq war for permanent occupation, and will continue the crime by an incursion into Iran. Promises were broken and are still being broken.
Today, on the American St. Patrick's Day, I honor my father and my grandfather who never supported perpetual, preemptive wars all over the globe, the hijacking of sovereign natural resources, and enslavement of occupied peoples. They fought in and suffered the worse conditions that wars waged by non-participants can pass off upon less wealthy members of their respective communities.
I had the fortune to reconnect with my father and share some years with him before he passed away several years back. I am blessed to have regained relationships with a lost sister and brother. My father's second wife was wonderful and became a valued friend. My gracious uncles welcomed me back into the family. Of the five Shaughnessy boys, two remain. I honor all of them, my cousins, and their families.
Below is the shield that I embroidered on the back of the shirt for my father. He wrote to me of spring, liked bluebirds, and roses.
My dad was a WWII veteran of The Battle of the Bulge and his dad, my grandfather, fought with the Canadian Black Watch in Europe during WWI. Both men were told they were fighting the war to end all wars. Both fought to serve their countries and to keep their children from having to serve as cannon fodder for the ruling class. Promises were made and promises were broken.
We relived history during the unnecessary Vietnam war, are repeating the same historical mistakes in the Iraq war for permanent occupation, and will continue the crime by an incursion into Iran. Promises were broken and are still being broken.
Today, on the American St. Patrick's Day, I honor my father and my grandfather who never supported perpetual, preemptive wars all over the globe, the hijacking of sovereign natural resources, and enslavement of occupied peoples. They fought in and suffered the worse conditions that wars waged by non-participants can pass off upon less wealthy members of their respective communities.
I had the fortune to reconnect with my father and share some years with him before he passed away several years back. I am blessed to have regained relationships with a lost sister and brother. My father's second wife was wonderful and became a valued friend. My gracious uncles welcomed me back into the family. Of the five Shaughnessy boys, two remain. I honor all of them, my cousins, and their families.
Below is the shield that I embroidered on the back of the shirt for my father. He wrote to me of spring, liked bluebirds, and roses.
________________________________________________________________________
Please enjoy the poem printed below. It packs a wallop for today's America!
Not that I love thy children, whose dull eyes
See nothing save their own unlovely woe,
Whose minds know nothing, nothing care to know, -
But that the roar of thy Democracies,
Thy reigns of Terror, thy great Anarchies,
Mirror my wildest passions like the sea
And give my rage a brother -! Liberty!
For this sake only do thy dissonant cries
Delight my discreet soul, else might all kings
By bloody knout or treacherous cannonades
Rob nations of their rights inviolate
And I remain unmoved - and yet, and yet,
These Christs that die upon the barricades,
God knows it I am with them, in some things.
~ Oscar Wilde ~
______________________________________________________________________
I wrote the following story for The Dishpan Chronicles in 2004 and reposted it in '05 on St. Paddy's Day. I am usually cooking a corned beef dinner for my family on the 17th of March so don't have a lot of time to devote to politics. I like the little story that I wrote back then and have reprinted it today. I meant every word! Enjoy
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Happy St. Patrick's Day
Last night I dreamed in green. Last night I dreamed about snakes. Last night an ancient Celt whispered in my ear, "they've got it all wrong, St. Patrick didn't drive the snakes from Ireland".
The story told was this........
You see, the snakes being without legs and all, could not partake when the folk did those high-steppin' dances. The snakes suffered so, for they were spirited and admired those dances.
When the Irish gathered in pubs, to toast with mugs of ale, the snakes were left to hang their heads in the brew, for they lacked the arms for hoistin'.
It got worse yet, whenever those snakes heard that song, When Irish Eyes are smilin'. Try as they might with eyes set one on one side, and the other on the other, no snake was ever known to get it's eyes together enough to smile.
'Tis as plain as day where this tragic tale is headin'. With the strength of the Irish people livin in their words, and their hearts and souls reaching to the Heavens in song, what were the snakes to do? Never were words so beautifully and enchantingly spoken as when expressed by the Irish poets. When melodies were sung, never were the voices so pure and harmonious. The snakes, inspired by such lamentations and joyous musings, opened their mouths. They expected poetry, they expected melody, yet nothing but barely audible, raspy hisses were to be heard.
No creature has ever felt such humiliation. Nor has any creature tried so hard to be what it wasn't. Not only were the serpents heartbroken, but they turned green with envy. Such torn and suffering creatures could do naught but leave Ireland forever. One dark and moonless night they slithered away. It was not the sainted Patrick who drove the snakes from Ireland....it was SHAME!
The Irish whisperer in my dream had almost finished the tale of Erin's serpents when he asked, "Do you know where the descendents of those legless, armless, smileless, voiceless creatures are now"? "No", I answered.
He went on to tell me...............
They slithered out of Ireland and crossed the sea to the new world. There, they joined creatures of a similar nature, and developed serpentine ways. There, they learned to sidewind, and they sidewinded themselves all the way to the White House. That's where the sorry serpents are today, rulin' the world from their snakepit in Washington D.C. and St. Patrick had nothing to do with it.
I woke up with new understanding. The Irish are lucky because they are rid of the snakes and we Americans are unlucky because our government has become a sanctuary for vipers. Isn't it strange that the Irish don't celebrate their snakeless holiday but we do? I still don't know why St. Patrick took credit for what the Irish people did just by being themselves but I wish you and yours...........A Happy St. Patrick's Day..........anyway.
The story told was this........
You see, the snakes being without legs and all, could not partake when the folk did those high-steppin' dances. The snakes suffered so, for they were spirited and admired those dances.
When the Irish gathered in pubs, to toast with mugs of ale, the snakes were left to hang their heads in the brew, for they lacked the arms for hoistin'.
It got worse yet, whenever those snakes heard that song, When Irish Eyes are smilin'. Try as they might with eyes set one on one side, and the other on the other, no snake was ever known to get it's eyes together enough to smile.
'Tis as plain as day where this tragic tale is headin'. With the strength of the Irish people livin in their words, and their hearts and souls reaching to the Heavens in song, what were the snakes to do? Never were words so beautifully and enchantingly spoken as when expressed by the Irish poets. When melodies were sung, never were the voices so pure and harmonious. The snakes, inspired by such lamentations and joyous musings, opened their mouths. They expected poetry, they expected melody, yet nothing but barely audible, raspy hisses were to be heard.
No creature has ever felt such humiliation. Nor has any creature tried so hard to be what it wasn't. Not only were the serpents heartbroken, but they turned green with envy. Such torn and suffering creatures could do naught but leave Ireland forever. One dark and moonless night they slithered away. It was not the sainted Patrick who drove the snakes from Ireland....it was SHAME!
The Irish whisperer in my dream had almost finished the tale of Erin's serpents when he asked, "Do you know where the descendents of those legless, armless, smileless, voiceless creatures are now"? "No", I answered.
He went on to tell me...............
They slithered out of Ireland and crossed the sea to the new world. There, they joined creatures of a similar nature, and developed serpentine ways. There, they learned to sidewind, and they sidewinded themselves all the way to the White House. That's where the sorry serpents are today, rulin' the world from their snakepit in Washington D.C. and St. Patrick had nothing to do with it.
I woke up with new understanding. The Irish are lucky because they are rid of the snakes and we Americans are unlucky because our government has become a sanctuary for vipers. Isn't it strange that the Irish don't celebrate their snakeless holiday but we do? I still don't know why St. Patrick took credit for what the Irish people did just by being themselves but I wish you and yours...........A Happy St. Patrick's Day..........anyway.
What if they gave a war and nobody came?
Erin go bragh............
..........................Kitchen Window WomanLabels: embroidery, Irish, Oscar Wilde, Shaughnessy, snakes, St. Patrick's Day, WWI, WWII
posted by Kitchen Window Woman at 2:16 PM
5 Comments:
Happy St. Patrick's Day to you too!
I still cannot understand how America has allowed itself to repeat the same mistakes we made during Vietnam which was not that long ago.
We are now experiencing runaway inflation and a decrease the dollar just as we did during the 70's.
The media likes to try to seperate the two, the economy from the war, as if they are two seperate things.
But they are not. It is because of Bush/Cheney's follies in Iraq that we are in the situation we currently find ourselves. Invading Iraq drove oil prices up which is causing inflation.
We have piled on $3 trillion more in debt since Bush has taken office. We have been in deficit spending nearly every year since he has taken office.
The treasury just keeps printing dollars and floating debt. This is driving down the value of the dollar which is also driving up oil prices.
It's the 1970's all over again. I thought we would be able to at least learn from our recent history. Apparently not.
We have short term memories.
Will we do it all again in another 30 years? Or, will we still be in Iraq as McCain wants?
I agree that the media likes to separate the economy from the war - its like some kind of fashionable set of politically correct accessories have been mismatched in the hands of the cheerleader/journalists that pass for news anchors on so many American television stations. They're trying to create a new trend.
History keeps repeating itself here in the states because they made so much money from the wars that were fought before. Then the war profits are invested in politicians, propaganda, and - MORE WAR!
It is really scary. If China calls in the loans to the US - we are headed for a depression. I just hope that the Bushes will be on the streets begging.
Ah yes, but I still prefer Erin go Braless!
Happy Saint Pats Sister.
d.
Deuddersun...
You may have Erin going braless but I just noticed that I made a typo in Wilde's Sonnet to Liberty. I had the "kings by bloody knout or treacherous cannonades rob nations of their "tights" inviolate. That was supposed to be "rights inviolate" I had those fighting for liberty running around bottomless!
Lol, yeah I noticed that, but wot the hell...bottomless, topless, it's all good.
d.
Post a Comment
<< Home