It is said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and apparently the British saw nothing beautiful about Cruit Island or Kincasslagh, Ireland. We thank God for that.
The land of which I am writing is largely bog, littered with boulders that are surrounded by heather, sand, and over two-hundred wild-flowers: orchids, primroses, sea-pinks, harebells, sea holly and juniper. Mountains named Errigal (An Earagail) and Muckish (An Mhucais) and the other five of the Seven Sisters dot the landscape, while the Atlantic coastline’s dramatic nomenclature is accentuated by places named Bloody Foreland (Cnoc Fola) and Slieve League (Sliabh Liag).
Humans first came here during the Neolithic period over five thousand years ago. Their portal tombs like Roshine South remind the Egyptians that their Pyramids are mere adolescents by comparison. Discerning eyes will notice Mass Rocks (Carraig an Aifrinn) throughout the landscape. These outdoor altars originated in the mid-17th century in response to Cromwell’s campaign against the Irish, and the Penal Laws of 1695-1756. Priest hunters were employed to arrest unregistered clerics and Presbyterian ministers under an act of 1709, so Mass or worship was illegal, punishable by death. There have always been plenty of King Herod types to go around.
So other than tombs for burial or Mass for insurrection, the land wasn’t fertile enough to grow crops to export back to Britain, or elsewhere around the world. Instead, Irish peasants were herded to this part of the Island to die a slow death. But in the process of ignoring that communiqué, they persisted by picking kelp and harvesting the sea, and they were more or less left alone to eventually resurrect an authentic Irish culture where, today, Gaelic (Gaeltacht) is nearly as common as English, and history is remembered through haunting melodies guided by Turlough O’Carolan’s Irish harp.
Raw beauty takes many forms, but most often it is associated with the landscape of forgotten places like Cruit Island. But raw beauty is also a portal to better understand the human spirit which is forged in these places, and other mostly forgotten places that have been consistently ignored. In fact, it might be a good way to capture the complexity of humanity whether that be Ireland, or the desolate parts of my home state of Iowa.
My ancestors were born and died on this Midwestern patch of ground on the short end of the privilege stick. My Grandmother was a dollar-a-day housekeeper for a farmer’s family during the Depression. My Grandfather worked in the fields for another farmer: Joe Baker was his name. The first cuss word I ever recall hearing was an unholy effigy about Joe Baker that flowed effortlessly out of my Grandad’s mouth. Apparently the dollar-a-day he earned bailing hay demanded a price of more than just blisters and sweat, so much so that thirty years couldn’t erase its memory. Though they avoided a famine, I do recall listening to my Grammy and her sisters, Aunt Bee and Aunt Olta, sitting around the dinner table telling stories about being so hungry at night they tightened their belts to make the pangs go away. And, after he died, I found a dusty picture of my Grandad holding a stringer of carp, and I still remember how it made my own stomach turn. There is no way to enjoy eating carp, unless it provides some relief from hunger.
It is clear to me that a tenacious spirit, often forged by depravation, is the kind of beauty to which I am attracted. Wildflowers, craggy bogs, seashores, and endless fields of waving corn or tall grass prairie make for pleasant surroundings, but the stories of survival that emerge from these places are what make it all meaningful. It is oddly that which draws me to Cruit Island and, perhaps, that which keeps me in my own flyover home. In fact, I can honestly say that I have never met an unkind person who was forged in this kind of metaphorical fire. Surviving deprivation kindles an irrational benevolence.
In the northwest of Ireland, that spirit began with the Neolith’s and was further shaped by the cruelty of Cromwell, the hopelessness of the famine, and the great sadness of émigration. But some persevered. Though left behind, neither millennia, Cromwell, forbidden Mass, famine, the Great Depression or god-damned Joe Baker shook loose their precarious grip on these forgotten pieces of earth. Generation by generation, lives were built, families were made, and quiet dignity was nurtured by a turf fire or a Sunday afternoon dinner table.
Descendants of Neolith’s have built their own lasting monuments, portals through which the rest of us can peer; beautiful scenery in the midst of raw desolation showing us that the human spirit endures, despite cruelty and long odds.
Dr. Bullock,
I read your story with great interest remembering similar stories told to me of the hardships of my grandparents, and mother, and father raised in Missouri during the great depression era. They were hardscrabble farmers barely surviving working the land but what they found that what helped their survival was working together as a family and the togetherness of the community developed by a common survival identity realizing they must all work together in order to make it through.
Two lasting practices I witnessed of my maternal grandmother was her sense that everyone within the community was a neighbor even living miles away. I remember in the ’50s as a young boy, grandmother still called people her neighbors while living in town blocks away. The other vestige of her depression experience was that she was forever calling her trips uptown as going to “trade”, not buy, even though by then she had money enough.
It seems to me that there is a common human thread developed by people who experience hardships such as your ancestors and mine though they lived countries apart, even on opposite sides of the world. I believe also that given opportunity and hope in immigrating to America or living here through hard times instilled in them and passed to us something we call the unique American experience. It is a great strength and leveler for equal opportunity as long as we can understand how to define it for the next generation, capture it in our national experience, and pass it on.
Phillip,
Thank you for taking the time to read the blog, and for sharing your thoughts and insights.
Jeff
Wonderful, Jeff! Thanks for writing, narrating and sharing. Ireland is magical on so many levels and you captured the tenacity as well as the goodness of this land and it’s people. It is a rich message, and one that resonates with this “nature girl.” Thanks also for your strong yet sensitive leadership. UD is blessed to have you.
Great tribute to your heritage and the strength of your forefathers.
Jim,
Thanks for your comment and for reading the blog!
Jeff
I can certainly Identify with your story . I was born in my grandmothers basement while my dad was building a house on the small acreage at the edge of rock island Illinois. My grandparents and great grandparents came from Germany and Sweden. I grew up on two farms with no plumbing and no heat with five siblings and a cousin. My mom washed our clothes in the tub on the washboard and cooked on a cast iron cook stove. She made our clothes out of the material chicken feed came in. People now collect that material to make quilts. I never thought I would be able to go to college at the University of Dubuque gave me the opportunity to change my life . Today I have 10 grandchildren five of whom have graduated college and three more who are attending. I also have the privilege of living in a four generation household with two great grandchildren. At age 82 I still direct the choir at my Presbyterian Church. My Freshman roommate and I come to homecoming every fall. See you in October.
Joy,
Thank you very much for sharing
your story, and your life’s journey. Fascinating and inspirational!
Jeff
Pat,
Thank you so much for your kind comments, and for reading the blog in the first place! And thank you, as well, for your leadership and commitment to UD’s Mission.
Jeff
Jeff, your article on the NW coast of Ireland and it’s people was excellent.
It brought back memories of my youth, covering our Island N to S and E to W on my bicycle.
I well remember Donegal, from it’s fishing villages such as Killybegs to the impressive Cliffs of Slieve League mentioned in your writing. What a beautiful area!
However, your comparing Cromwell to Herod was in my opinion most unfortunate and “one sided”.
It gave the reader the picture of a destructive tyrant plundering without cause.
For those of us who have studied church history, we are very much aware of that period when the armies of “the Lord Protector”marched across the land with great cruelty and disregard for people or possessions driving them into an desolate area in the western Provence of Connacht. The conditions were so bad that -to this day in Ireland is found the expression “to Hell or Connacht” The idea was going to Connacht was the equivalent of going to Hell! Yes, Cromwell’s’ army was extremely cruel and
inhumane.
All this is true, however to compare what Cromwell did to what Herod did to the children of Judah
is unfortunate and one sided. No mention of the reasons for the injustices.
Let us remember the conditions of the “Roman” church in the time of Cromwell and the times prior to the Reformation. The church had strayed far from the intentions of it”s founders. Corruption and greed were her hallmarks. Johannes Tetzel and his indulgences was only one of these examples facing a corrupt church. This also was one of the protests of Luther himself. He saw his church as corrupt and in need of reform . In no way do I support what Cromwell did to “fix” his church, However – like Luther – he saw his church going in the wrong direction and unfortunately, his “fix” was extreme and unacceptable. I say this, not to rationalize what Cromwell did but rather to let the reader realize there were problems on BOTH sides.
Even in my own growing up as a child, I was often insulted – sometimes by Priests – telling me I was “going straight to Hell”. The reason given,; I was a Protestant and needed to return to the “Mother Church”, the only TRUE church! I share this to point out the hatred on BOTH sides.
Now, let us remember more modern times. The nineteen sixties and seventies, the “times of the troubles”. During these times the IRA or Irish Republican Army – a group of terrorists and thugs going thru the land killing and wounding any in their way. they murdered hundreds of innocent people. Their only crime, being a Protestant. My own father was on the IRA “hit list”
Most of this time their cruel acts of violence was overlooked by the Roman Catholic church and after the hostilities ceased some Priests confessed that they had given Sanctuary to the terrorists as they fled from the police. We also learned that these terrorists received many of their guns from Cuba.
It was at this point that the Roman Catholic church urged it’s members not to support or encourage the IRA .Soon after this peace came.
Indeed there has been – and in some ways still is -hatred between both sides. However with the IRA gone, it is no longer “front page” news. but – sad to say – still remains.
As a Christian, I prefer to remember men like St. Patrick – that Godly man who brought Christianity to this land in the fifth Century. He was a great man of God whose only mission was to point people to the true and living God . It was – in my opinion – a personal relationship with The Prince OF Peace.
To day there still remains a great need for true peace to come to this land.
True peace will come only when BOTH sides involved in the hatred take seriously the faith in the GOD that St Patrick worshiped. loved and served.
After all he is “the Prince Of Peace”
He is the One who brought peace to the young Patrick.
And if we allow HIM HE will bring peace to each one of us
At least, that’s how I see It!
John K Wilson
M Div. Dubuque Sem 1970
STM Dubuque Sem 1971
PS Jeff
The areas mentioned in your writings are all in the County of Donegal and that is in the Province of ULSTER
Cromwell drove the people to the area – not in ULSTER – but in the next Provence to the South
CONNACHT.
John,
Thank you for your lengthy reply and engagement, and for reading the blog. You have some interesting and helpful insights.
Jeff
John – It’s good to read your article about Ireland. I remember our time together at UDTS very well, and hope all is well with you. – Jim Breed
Jim,
Thanks for the contact. All is well here in YAKIMA Wa.
Now serving a small PCUSA church on the Columbia River.
My best to you and Monica.
John
I imagined the word Death Land. America is the Pioneer of the land to cultivate. Our fore goner had watched same those sceneries in Western Frontier. The sprits of conquer the problem is always encourage me from the experiences of Dubuque, the great mother
river of Mississippi. Julien. Welcomeback from beautiful journey…..
Ando Yutaka C 79
Yutaka,
Thank you for your comments and for reading the blog. And thank you for staying in touch.
Jeff