Christmas in Kerry

Christmas Greetings

Listowel artist, Olive Stack's beautiful Christmas card

A Very Happy Christmas to all my blog followers and collaborators. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who helped me during the year by sending or giving me photos, stories, encouraging emails and helpful suggestions. I am grateful to everyone who interacts with me about the blog but I also appreciate all the "followers" who just use the blog to stay in touch with Listowel. 
This is the last blogpost for 2014. I look forward to getting back to work in 2015. Do remember that I can't do it without help so keep rummaging in those old photo boxes.

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People love to hear this old Bryan MacMahon poem at this time of year

Kerry Candlelight

1

I am standing here in Euston, and my heart is light and gay,

For ‘tis soon I’ll see the moonlight all a-dance on Dingle Bay. 

So behind me, then, is London, with the magic of its night,

And before me is a window filled with Kerry Candlelight.

Chorus

‘Tis the lovely light of glory that came down from heav’n on high,

And whenever I recall it, there’s a teardrop in my eye.

By the mountainside at twilight, in a cottage gleaming white,

There my true love sits a-dreaming, in the Kerry Candlelight.

2

She’ll be waiting by the turf fire; soon our arms will be entwined,

And the loneliness of exile will be lost or cast behind,

As we hear the Christmas greetings of the neighbours in the night,

Then our hearts will beat together in the blessed Candlelight.

3

Now the train is moving westward, so God speed its racing wheels,

And God speed its whistle ringing o’er the sleeping English fields,

For I’m dreaming of an altar where, beside my Breda bright,

I will whisper vows of true love in the Kerry Candlelight.

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More Innocent Times    

                  

This Christmas story comes from a Listowel emigrant who remembers happy times growing up in Kerry...

Now the tradition of Christmas and Santy Claus evidently is different in every house, but in the Stack house it was, is and always will be a big deal.

When I was a little boy Santy Claus personally delivered my presents every year. That didn't happen to all the boys in my class . And despite the strict criteria for the year of not being naughty and being nice,  which I might not always have adhered to, he never left me down. He would always call between 9 and 10 on Christmas Eve.

We would have all been washed and have the new Christmas outfit on and most years about 7 the whole family would take a drive and see all the lovely Christmas lights , That is a lovely single white bulb in the every window of every house and the odd posh one might have a red bulbs.

We would return home and instead of going to the living room we would retire to the sitting room  which we used to migrate to for the two week Christmas holidays. The rest of the year it was reserved for priests, guards or water bailiffs ( nothing to do with me) . 

We then would chose what to watch on TV1 or 2 but we were always a little anxious as we knew a special visitor would be calling. At some point either my mother or father would say “Be quiet. Was that a knock ?”  We would all freeze , then turn down 1 or 2 and listen and we might hear a faint bell or another knock this time much louder. We would run to the door, turn on the outside light and see large bags of presents spread all over the lawn. When we were very young Santy would be by the door and as we got older, I suppose he was getting older as well he would be further away each year until I remember him being at the front gate waving . While we were always grateful, as children we were normally more interested in the contents of the bags on the lawn than Santy himself.

Christmas 1983 the world changed forever. Despite several doubts there was always an explanation ! , Santy would always come to our house on Christmas Eve but people on our road could be Christmas Day. Santa doesn't use roads !!

At 6 o clock that Christmas Eve my father said he wanted to talk to me.

I was curious as we walked down the hall , to see what I had done wrong cos I'd usually pull up a couple of weeks before Christmas . We sat on my bed and he told me Santy wasn't real . Reeling from the shock as a 12 year old would I enquired was I still going to get presents this year. He said yes. That made me feel better and when I enquired who was the fellow calling to my front door banging windows and ringing a bell for the last few years he just said JET.

That was when Christmas began. As I had a younger brother and sister still not in the loop Santy was expected as usual. My father and I sneaked out of our house and went next door to Jet’s house , where it was like the The North Pole with bags of presents for different houses within a 10 mile radius.

Now at 12 I got to see Santy face to face. First he had granny's pinkish dressing gown on with a big pillow inside and a mask that was more like Freddie Kruger than Santy but a big red hat, plenty lipstick on the cheeks a bit of white paint for a beard . He was perfect. Unless there was a full moon then you'd want to stay well back from the front door. His first call that night was our house and after that I had the job of riding shotgun on Santa’s  sleigh, a Renault  9 at the time, of calling to about 9  or 10 houses in my locality, where there was small children waiting for Santy .

Years later after Jet , one of his neighbours and someone Jet had played Santy to, revived it and did a great job for a few years and when he went on to have his own family he roped some of his friends into the position . 

Sincerely 

A relative of Jet Stack 

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Christmas in Clounmacon

(Photo;The Advertiser)

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Fungi at Christmas

His friends at Fungie Forever visit the Dingle dolphin almost daily so be sure to check in with them over Christmas.

A day out in Fota, Junior Griffin and Listowel sailors

It was Fathers' Day 2014.

Three happy little girls decided to treat their Daddy to a trip to Fota Wildlife Park.

Some of the fabulous animals and birds we saw up close and personal in Fota.

Fota has recently added a tropical house and a Tiger Garden.  If you haven't been for a while,
these are well worth going for.

You can actually watch butterflies hatching out and learning to fly.

For obvious reasons I had to photograph the tiger through a fence.

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These blocked up windows are in the premises at Leahy's Corner, now Punjab Spice Indian restaurant.

The reason for the blocking up of windows is explained in Wikipaedia thus;

The window tax was a property tax based on the number of windows in a house. It was a significant social, cultural, and architectural force in England, France and Scotland during the 18th and 19th centuries. To avoid the tax some houses from the period can be seen to have bricked-up window-spaces (ready to be glazed or reglazed at a later date), as a result of the tax. In England and Wales it was introduced in 1696 and was repealed in 1851, 156 years after first being introduced. France (established 1798 - repealed 1926) and Scotland both had window taxes as well for similar reasons.

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St. Mary's is a building site this June 2014. The work is projected to take 2 months.

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One of Listowel's most genial and knowledgeable gentlemen, John (Junior) Griffin with his trusty bicycle.

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A Life on the ocean waves for Listowel father and son team

Derek and Conor Dillon

Father and son duo from Listowel in County Kerry are taking on the double-handed challenge in this year's Round Ireland Yacht Race. The pair Derek Dillon and son Conor, a 19–year–old Univesity of Limerick student, will race the family Dehler 34 'Big Deal' that is based on the Shannon Estuary.

The Foynes Yacht Club pairing have been racing together inshore for over  ten years, and have competed at numerous ICRA's, Cork Weeks and Calves Weeks. The pair are sponsored by leading marine supplier, Union Chandlery.

They recently made the move into offshore racing, enjoying recent success in multiple ISORA Qualifying races. 

'We look forward to the competitive adventure associated with doing such an endurance race, double- handed', father Derek told Afloat.ie

The pair also plan to compete in the Volvo Cork Week double-handed and compete fully-crewed in Cork Dry Gin Calves Week, in which they have finished first in class in the past two consecutive years.   

(Afloat.ie)

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In response to Monday's post, a friend sent me this short poem by Jet Stack for all the carers

Writers' Week, Dan Keane and Maureen Beasley and a return to the sky garden

Three of Listowel's great unsung heroes of The Arts; Jet Stack R.I.P., Maureen BeasleyR.I.P. and Jimmy Hickey. These three have played their parts in preserving folk traditions in music, verse and dance and have all done North Kerry and its literary heritage a great service.

Another of the great stalwarts of the North Kerry literary tradition is Dan Keane. He has left us a legacy of poems, ballads and stories and some great memories.

This poem by Dan is a tribute to his friend, Jet Stack:

Mr. Garrett Stack 

If you are out to learn dancing

Take a tip from me,

Go through Listowel and Greenville

Until you reach Scartlea,

Go all the way to Scartlea Cross

Then count two houses back,

There you will find the maestro

That’s Mr. Garrett Stack.

That is his Baptismal title

But he’s never used it yet,

He is no way sanctimonious

He is always known as “Jet”,

He will make you very welcome

With tea and home cooked ham,

And if he is scarce in sugar,

He will give you plenty jam.

He will quickly come to dancing,

It will only take a while,

To show you reels and figures,

In every kind of style,

He will show you steps and polkas,

Like jewels from days of yore,

And he will even demonstrate

He is tasty on the floor.

Now if you ever doubt me

I have witnesses to prove,

That even first class dancers,

He can tutor and improve,

He is not the slightest selfish,

His glory’s greatest crown,

Is his patriotic willingness,

To hand his dancing down.

He is also a musician

And in case you might not know it,

He is good at prose and poetry

A writer and a poet.

He is witty and good humoured,

And a joke he's good to crack,

So don’t forget three cheers for “Jet”,

That’s Mr. Garrett Stack.

By Dan Keane

I think the lines "His glory's greatest crown is his patriotic willingness to hand his dancing down." sum up what Writers' Week is all about….handing on the torch to the next generation of writers. Who knows? a future John B. or Bryan might be in our midst here on the streets of Listowel this week.

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Another old photo from Writers' Week of times gone by

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Mardyke Garden

Do you remember that I went to Fitzgerald's Park last week to view the Diarmuid Gavin sky garden? This garden cost over a million euros. Well, it took just one week for the children of Cork to wreck it.

Children taking turns climbing on the giant stainless steel spheres.

The plants in this section never stood a chance.

These paths through the garden were lined with blue stepping stones last week.

Yet again, the café couldn't cope with demand.

The lovely rose beds of old are gone. The colorful roses are replaced by dull drab green plants.

Dead and damaged plants abound.

Dotted throughout the park are lovely gems, like this Oisín Kelly dancer.

In defense of Cork's children let me say that there was no sign to say that this garden was to be looked at and admired, not treated like a playground. Those big silver sphere's are far too tempting and they do look like the sort of thing you might see in a playground. I don't know if the garden can be saved and replanted.  As it stands, it's a disaster.

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D Day is near…. Saturday May 31 2014

Eileen Moylan of Claddagh will launch her beautiful creation in Craftshop na Méar at 7.00 p.m.