Cherrytree Blossoms, Mass in the fifties and the first Park run

Photo: Joy Buckley of Mallow Camera Club for their People at Work project

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Cherry Blossom Time

Cahirdown

 In the Pitch and putt course

 In Cahirdown

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Sunday mass in Ireland in the 1950s

Jim Costello remembers mass in rural Ireland in the 1950s;

At Sunday mass the men wore their Sunday suits, while the women wore  coats, costumes or dresses.The older men wore hats while the young people rubbed oil, Brillantine or pomade to their hair. The ladies, as was the custom then always covered their heads with hats, scarves or mantillas. The priest had his back to the congregation while he said the mass in Latin and the altar boys responded also in Latin. The laity took no audible part in the mass but said their prayers by using their rosary beads. People then conducted themselves devoutly at mass. The men said their prayers on their rosary beads and the women read their missals.

Glossary for younger readers

French pommade is a greasy, waxy, or a water-based substance that is used to style hair. Pomade gives the user's hair a shiny, slick appearance, and does not dry it out. It lasts longer than most hair care products, often requiring multiple washes  to completely remove. 

 A Mantilla is a lace or silk scarf worn by women over the head and shoulders.

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Oops!

This souvenir shop in Ballybunion had an alternative Irish flag flying.
AND

A few days later Jacinta Breen spotted that they had found the right one.

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First Listowel Park run

Photo; Dominck Walsh

Park run sponsored by VHi came to Listowel on Saturday April 22 2017

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Brent Geese over the Shannon

Its Hannon's photo of Brent geese over the Shannon estuary was broadcast on national TV last evening

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Fr. John Lucid R.I.P.

Moyvane paid tribute to Fr. John Lucid who passed away suddenly at his Kilcummin home last week.

(Text and photo from Moyvane Village of Facebook)

If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything.
By Gabriel Fitzmaurice

Fr John Lucid came to serve as Parish Priest of Moyvane-Knockanure in the summer of 2003. His shock of grey hair hid the youthful temperament of a 54 year-old-man full of vim and vigor, a man whose personal motto could well have been "laborare est orare", "to work is to pray", such was the delight he took in getting his hands dirty doing what his beloved Church used to describe in the old catechism as “servile work”, work that other priests would leave to tradesmen, labourers and gardeners. He was a popular priest; shy yet comfortable with his parishioners both young and old. He believed when he was appointed to the Parish of Moyvane-Knockanure that he would be the last Parish Priest we would have. He performed his priestly duties ar luas lasrach – at lightning speed. Indeed, he seemed to have two speeds only, fast and faster! And yet he was devout, and his devotion was apparent in his respect for God and God’s creation. 

His homilies were invariably short and to the point. One of his most touching sermons, which he repeated from time to time, was about the little girl who wondered who the people depicted in the stained glass windows in her local church were; on being informed that they were saints she was perplexed as the word "saint" was new to her. She was puzzled for a while and then, in a moment of revelation, she exclaimed, "Mammy, I know who the saints are – they are the ones who let the light through". Beautiful! 

Fr John led his parish through joyful times and sorrowful times. He presided over the celebrations of the golden jubilees of the Church of the Assumption in Moyvane in 2006 and Corpus Christi Church in Knockanure in 2014. It fell to him to officiate at the funerals of Michael Hanrahan and his son Denis, double murder victims, in 2008. He was interested in his parishioners, their sports and pastimes, he was a fair and effective chairperson of the parish school boards, he set up the first parish liturgy group to mention just a few of his many achievements during his tenure as Parish Priest here. When he was transferred to be Parish Priest of Kilcummin in 2015 he left with the goodwill and affection of the people of Moyvane and Knockanure. 

He died on the day of Christ’s Resurrection having officiated at the Holy Week and Easter ceremonies in Kilcummin. One of his favourite phrases, one he repeated frequently from the altar, was "if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything". Fr John stood for the good, the true, the beautiful. He let the light through. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam uasal.

Listowel Tidy Towns and Scoil Realta na Maidine Walk

Photo: Lisa Egan of Mallow Camera Club for their People at Work project

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Listowel Tidy Towns Committee working tirelessly...as usual.

One morning while on my morning walk I happened upon this group of Listowel Tidy Town Folk with ecologist Aoibhinn down by the river.

They were planting nettles!

That is not the whole truth. They were planting meadowsweet as well as the nettles, herbs and other wild flowers to attract the birds and the bees to our community fruit and nut orchard.

 The week before they had been out cleaning all the approach roads as part of the County Clean initiative. Above is the pile of rubbish they collected.

Ever so often I come across another little garden that they have planted. This one is by the river at the corner of the picnic area.

This perfect picnic area is in the garden by the old ball alley.

In a few years time you will be able to pick some apples and nuts for your dessert from the nearby trees.

This bed is by the arch.

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Scoil Realta na Maidine

On Easter Saturday 2017 they had a great time at the boys school. They had a 20 k and 10k walk and they had an old style town league.

I encountered some of the marathon walkers as I was strolling with my Easter visitors. Here for you is just a very small selection of the many people who walked on this lovely spring morning.

(more tomorrow)

By the way, Country won the town league.

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Believe it or Not

I learned a fascinating fact as I was listening to the radio at the weekend.
Bowls are the fastest selling pieces of crockery or some time now. The sale of plates is at an all time low.
Is this a fashion fad?
Partly but people who study these things think that the rise in the use of bowls rather than plates is due to the change in the way people eat meals nowadays. Sitting at the table together is a thing of the past. People eat on their own on the sofa or in an armchair. Even if they sit at the table, they are checking in on their social media feed as they eat. Bowls are more convenient as food is less likely to spill from them.

Public Benches, Sundays in the 1950s and painting at St. John's

Photo: Elizabeth O'Connell of Mallow Camera Club for their People at Work project

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Public Seating invites us to Linger

We are very lucky in Listowel to have an abundance of public seats in beautiful corners of our town. They just invite the walker or sight seer to rest a while. Here are a few I photographed lately

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The Way we Were From Jim Costello's Asdee Miscellany

"In days gone by we had a six day week where Saturday was an ordinary working day and Saturday night was spent preparing for Sunday. Sundays and church holidays were days of rest and no servile work was done. If the weather was very bad of a year, the priests gave permission to farmers from the altar during Sunday mass to save their crops. Even with the approval of the clergy, some farmers still would not work on the land on Sundays."

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As I remember it Sunday was a day for visiting. My father would tackle up the horse and we would pile into the trap and go to visit our relatives who lived a few miles away. We would still be dressed in our "Sunday best" so we had to be on our best behaviour and keep our good clothes clean. As soon as we got home they would be put away until next Sunday. If there was no visiting on the agenda we changed out of our best attire immediately after mass. 

If the visitors were coming to us, it would be for a few hours in the afternoon between dinner and tea. They always brought sweet cake and there would be chatting and tea drinking for the adults all afternoon.

If we were not either visiting or being visited we used to listen to the radio or read.  Maureen Potter's "C'mon Christy," was always part of Sundays as was The Clitheroe Kid's "Ow, me leg!"

We always did the crossword in The Sunday Press. This was no trial of skill really, just guesswork. I always hoped we'd win. We never did. My mother loved to take a shot at Spot the Ball. Again we never had any luck there either.

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Work at St. John's

As I was walking in the Square I spotted a cherry picker accessing the roof of St. John's

Our Arts Centre is getting a lick of paint

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Cherry Blossom Time

Stacks Mountains, Sonny Bill update

Photo by Donal Murphy of Mallow Camera Club from their People at Work project

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The Stack's Mountains  by John B. Keane (continued)

I returned every year to the Stacks’ Mountains for those long summer holidays until I reached the age of fifteen. I still frequently return to the warm secure home where I was reared when Hitler was shrieking his head off in Berlin and innocent Irishmen were dying in distant places like Tobruck and Alamain, men from The Stacks at that, long before their time, in useless carnage, carefree boys whose only weapon until that timewere the hayfork and the turf slean, who wanted only the right to work and play and find a place at the table.

I had already written a short book about the matchmaker Dan Paddy Andy O’Sullivan but if his name crops up now and again, don’t hold it against me. Dan was to The Stacks’ Mountain what bark is to a tree. Any cur síos about the Stack’s Mountain would be incomplete without Dan Paddy Andy. Dan would, no doubt, have been the most famous name in the area. The wealthiest is a man in England who doesn’t like having his name mentioned.

The Second World War was the best time to be in The Stacks Mountain. There was no man nor boy who didn’t have a shilling in his pocket. There was an insatiable demand for turf and Lyreacrompane was the home of it. Man, woman and child took to the bogs across the summers and, for the first time in the history of that much abused, much deprived community every person who wasn’t disabled or sick had a pound or two to spare.

Buyers would come from Tralee, Castleisland, Abbeyfeale and Listowel on the lookout for likely roadside ricks to fill the wagons waiting at the railway depots in the aforementioned towns.  Those who journed to the towns with horse, ass, mule and pony rails were often met a mile outside with buyers with orders to fill. In addition, Kerry County Council initiated a turf cutting campaign in order to supply cheap fuel to the many institutions under its care. This even ensured jobs for townies if they wanted them.

In The Stacks there were no villages but there were several shops such as Lyre Post Ofice, Doran’s, Nolan’s and McElligott’s and, of course, there was Dan Paddy Andy’s famous dance hall at the crossroads of Renagown. There were three or four visiting butchers and fish mongers and occasional travelling salesmen. Mostly Pakistani with huge trunks of wispy undergarments, scarves and frocks perched precariously on the carriers of ancient bicycles. I remember two of these quite well.

There was Likey Nicey Tie and Likey Nicey Knickeys. The latter often indicated that he was prepared to  exchange his wares for the favours of the country ladies. As far as I know he never did any business in this fashion. In our youthful ignorance we would stalk them as far as the cross of Renagown shouting “Likey Nicey Tie”, Likey Nicey Knickeys and, most heinous of all, “Likey Pig’s Bum.”

We had been informed by hobside knowalls that these dark coloured salesmen would be damned if they ate any kind of pig’s meat but doubly damned if it was the rear of the pig.  We didn’t know any better. We were young and backward and wouldn’t know prejudice from the prod of a thorn.

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Continuing his winning ways

If you don't know who Sonny Bill is or why a show horse with only the most tenuous of Listowel connections is featuring today, just go ahead to the next item or, if you have an hour to spare, look him up on the blog and you will get the whole story.

For anyone wondering how my favourite horse is doing in his new home, well, its all good news. He has started his 2017 showing season with two wins, one show champion win and one reserve, (meaning second overall for best in show). The photos were sent from the U.K. by Rebecca Collins.

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When is a fountain not a fountain?

A while ago I posted this photo of Castleisland's fountain. As we can see it is not actually a fountain in the traditional sense but it's a Kerry fountain. Margaret Dillon took the time to remind me that there was also such a fountain in Listowel at Ballygologue cross. Listowel's fountain was also a water pump.
In Castleisland's case I wonder if the pillar behind the pump has anything to do with the water supply. Could it be some sort of folly?