The Flying Dutchman

 ”Actor and Singer Carl Gunther in the Role of the Flying Hollander,“ Lithograph 1843, from the collection of The Museum of the History of Riga and Navigation, Riga Latvia

Our ancestor, Johann Karl Ludwig Maddaus, arrived in Riga in 1840 at the age of 20 and established a 38 year career of teaching art and drafting and producing various portraits and other works of art.  One of his earliest works was the lithograph of Carl Gunther in the role of The Flying Dutchman in the Wagner opera of the same name.

Wagner himself had moved to Riga (then part of the Russian Empire) in 1837 amidst serious financial and romantic difficulties.  Although reunited with his love Minna, his troubles continued in Riga and they departed for London in 1839 to avoid creditors.   As the story goes, the sea voyage to London served as inspiration for Der fliegende Holländer (The Flying Dutchman).   Whether this is true was cast in doubt when Wagner acknowledged he had taken the story from a Heinrich Henne work.  The work is regarded as the beginning of the mature canon of the composer.

Wagner premiered the opera in Dresden,  in January 1843 and later that same year, Johann Karl Ludwig Maddaus completed the lithograph  to coincide with a Riga performance.   Maddaus and Wagner shared a connection in that they both came to Riga after some time in Magdeburg and indeed, Maddaus's move to Riga followed Wagner and many others.

Our family connection with the opera was continued with the naming of Johann's granddaughter Senta, after the herione of the opera.  

Jānis Rātminders

Jānis Rātminders—Teacher, Poet, Translator

(December 8, 1812—October 8, 1880)

My friends, if these songs of mine

Should meet with your approval,

Then I’ll dare to go on singing,

And tell more of Juris:

What a man he’s become

And what good he’s done.

Then I’ll write down a second chapter,

Which will be superior to this.

In my spare time I’ll happily seek

To gather more verses and sing even better.

This my mind is set on night and day,

To give my brothers what they need.

God, let me experience

From my countrymen this joy:

That, both near and far,

Their liking for book-reading should increase.

Then the people’s ignorance will end,

And whoever writes will rejoice.

                       

Stāstu dziemas  (Story Songs)

Riga, 1850

For Janis Ratminders, there was no greater joy than sharing his faith in God and love of learning with his fellow Latvians and his poetry exuded both of those qualities.   But he was the product of three worlds and his daughter Augusta—our great grandmother—would depart for yet another when she left her family for a new life in America.

Janis was brought up on the Zeikari farmstead just north of the village of Vecpiebalga, some 130 kilometers east of Riga.  The farmstead sits on the windward side of a knoll that is the height of land to the west of Alauksts Lake.  A short walk on the driveway down to the main road (P30) from Vecpiebalga to Cesis to the north, affords a panoramic view of the lake with the iconic white birch rimming its shore.   To the west, the rivelet which becomes the Gauja River—the longest entirely in Latvia—winds through the fields from its source in Kaive, then north and east and again north and finally west on its meandering route to the Baltic Sea. 

The 19^th century Latvian landscape Janis was born into was not yet Latvia, but a part of the Russian Empire since the end of the Northern War which relinquished Swedish control of the eastern Baltic littoral in the 1720s.  And yet the countryside was populated by Latvians and Germans.   As the Latvian novelist Matiss Kaudzites once noted, in these days the terms Latvian and German were equivalent to peasant and landowner, as the dominance of the latter established centuries before continued through the 19^th century.   At times the German presence was oppressive, but the influence of Swedish kings and Moravian brethren, along with the German Lutheran church, resulted in an increase in the literacy rate among Latvians.  Literacy and refined culture were the domains of Germans and most education was conducted in German.

Janis Ratminders (Johann Rathminder in the German-language church records) was the third of four sons of Andzs and Marie Rathminder to reach adulthood—one sister did as well—and the second so named after an older sibling who died in infancy.   The family lost  2 infant daughters, as well.   Janis and Andzs were popular names in the Vidzeme countryside—Janis’s paternal grandfather was also Janis and his oldest brother was Andzs.   Though he was influenced by all his family, it was his brother Andzs who has the most lasting and profound impact on his life.  Andzs, 7 years older than Janis, was intelligent and multi-talented and when a teaching position became available at the local parish school, Andzs was chosen at the age of 18.  He would become a legend in Latvian education as he continued in the role for 63 years, one the longest and far-reaching in history.  So it would be Andzs who would teach his younger brother Janis and mentor him in his own teaching career for years to come.

After completing his training under his brother’s tutelage, Janis sought further experience in Riga, the commercial and cultural center of the eastern Baltic region.  Before long he secured a position teaching in the manor of Sasumuižā (Zasulauks) on the Pardaugava area of Riga across the Daugava River from the city center.  By 1837, he secured a position at the St. John’s parish in the old city, and he would continue there until the year of his death—over 42 years.  Longevity was but one of his accomplishments as he took a prominent role in the literary movement in the Latvian language and what became known as the "National Awakening,” which brought Latvian language, culture and literature onto firm footing alongside German and Russian influences.  To say Janis was a member of the Latvian intelligentsia of the mid-19^th century would be accurate, but fall short of describing his overall contribution to the national movement.

His literary connections most certainly were enhanced by his association with Pastor Hermans Treijs, the St. John’s parish leader, who himself was a prolific writer.  Treijs had began in 1832 to publish a weekly newspaper "Tas Latviesu Lauzu Draugs” (Friend of the Latvian People) and continued its publication to at least 1846.  Once Janis began work in the parish school, he also became a regular contributor to the publication with stories and poetry written under his own byline and with pseudonyms of JR and 49.  Examples of his work dating back to 1840 are on file in the National Library of Latvia, including “Good work, bad salary” and “Christmas message to students” in 1842, collaborations with Ansis Leitans on “Songs for Ludwig Schulz” and Pastor Hermans Treijs's “Christmas Greetings” in 1844 and “Poems for Karl Hieronymus Schirren” in 1847.   This collaboration would represent the beginning of a life-long friendship with Leitans which would further his writing career.

A collection of his pieces written for “Tas Latviesu Lauzu Draugs,”  including “Pretzels from Father” and “Grandfather’s Life,” became the basis for his publication in 1850 of “Stāstu dziesmas”(Story Songs), a book of poetic stories centered on a young Latvian lad named Juris.   The stories take the form of parables which emphasize the virtues of hard work, education and faith, leading to an honorable life. While some historians mark the date of the first Latvian-language publication of poetry by a Latvian as that of Juris Alunans’ “Dziesminas” (Poetry) in 1856 but Janis was clearly 6 years ahead of Alunans.  Between 1850 and 1870 the percentage of such publications in the region went from single digits to 50 percent as the new generation of educated Latvians followed the lead of Ratminders and Alunans.   A biography of Janis Ratminders after his death by J. R. Kalniuks suggests that “Stāstu dziesmas” was widely read and admired, though it has been largely forgotten today.

The publication of Alunans’ work and the establishment of the Latvian language newspaper “Mājas Viesis” (The House-Guest) by Janis Ratminders’ good friend and collaborator Ansis Leitans in 1856 marked the beginning of the first Latvian National Awakening which extended into the 1880s.  Janis was a significant contributor to Mājas Viesis, along with fellow teachers Juris Caunitis, Mikelis Ciritis and Janis Katkins. Mājas Viesis was authorized by the new Tsar of Russia, Alexander II and became the first Latvian newspaper founded by Latvians and edited by Latvians.  It evoked a sense of pride and excitement in the Latvian identity.

Soon after the founding of Mājas Viesis, a succeeding generation of “New Latvians” came on the scene, having all been educated at Dorpat (Tartu) University and given the opportunity to publish their writings in the new weekly paper.  Now legendary figures such as Krisjanis Valdemars, Juris Alunans, Krisjanis Barons and Atis Kronwalds met regularly to discuss political, cultural and literary issues that were of interest to ethnic Latvians.  This group was a reflection of an earlier regular gathering of intelligentsia including Janis Ratminders, Ansis Leitans and others, often at Janis’s home, in the late 1830s and into the 1840s.  While this early group met often, its progress was blunted by Tsar Nicholas I who felt threatened by a number of national movements in the Empire and directed local representatives to limit its meetings.   Over the long term these intrepid Latvians influenced the next wave of the national movement. 

The name Latvia (Latvija) became commonly used by 1862 and in the late 1860s the seeds of a new organization which became known as the Riga Latvian Association were sown.  Janis, though not as active as in his younger days, was involved in the formation of this organization and wrote lyrics for a song, "Kas mūsu spēks, / Kas mūsu pūles" (In our power, In our efforts), with music by Juliujs Purats, which was dedicated to the Association at its founding in 1868.  By 1873, with the first National Song Festival, the Association was a well established body in support of Latvian Nationalism.

In September 1846, Janis married Maria Louise Jacobsohn, daughter of Adam and Maria Magdalena Jacobsohn who were long-time members of the St. John’s parish.  Janis and Maria had 10 children over a period of 16 years.  Our great, grandmother Augusta Dorothea Rathminder was the third and was named for a descendent of Gotthard Friedrich Stender, an 18^th century Latvian grammarian and lexicographer.  Although Janis was active among Latvian language intellectuals, he also shared the trait of many of those, in that he was immersed in German language and culture of the day as well.  Augusta was more influenced by the German side of the house, as evidenced by her love of German romance novels, chiefly among them “Ingo” by Gustav Freytag, the source of our grandfather’s given name as well as that of his sister Freida.  To his death my father always referred to her as his ‘German’ grandmother.

Janis kept in close contact with his brother Andzs until his death in 1880.  An interesting anecdote surrounding their relationship revolved around the hiring of the great Latvian nationalist orator Atis Kronwalds as a teacher in Vecpiebalga.  Andzs knew of Kronvalds stature in the national movement, but wanted to be assured that this great young voice of Latvia was a well-rounded individual, versed in history, philosophy, the arts and religion, so he consulted with his best resource in Riga, his brother Janis.  On Janis’s recommendation Kronvalds was hired and served in the Vecpiebalga parish school until his untimely death at the relatively young age of 37 in 1875.

Janis retired to new home on Slokas iela (Woodcock Street) in Agenkalns area, not far from Zasulauks manor where he first worked on his arrival in Riga.  He is buried in the Martina Cemetary across the street from his home.  He never returned to live in Vecpiebalga, and some speculation surrounds the possibility that his heart was broken by a childhood sweetheart.  Still he expressed his fondness for home in one of his best-known poems,  Rītu nebūšu vairs mājās  (Tomorrow, I’ll Be Home No Longer):

Tomorrow I’ll be home no longer

The moment of parting is near.

My legs already walk the path

My thoughts remain right here.

Climbing the hill over yonder

I’ll gaze back into the dale.

I’ll look down upon the place

Where my joy once set sail.

Then with my heart saddened

I’ll continue to walk the line.

My beloved, though not beside me,

I’ll hold forever in my mind.

But when the cold winter ends

A wondrous spring will be revived.

Then I can go forth again

And my legs will gladly oblige.

Then I’ll happily return

To where love sings its song.

I’ll begin a joyous new life,

And my sorrows will be gone.

And then on Midsummer’s Eve

I’ll adorn your door with birch leaves.

I’ll pick flowers for you, my beloved

Through all the hills and valleys.

Katahdin

Beth and I returned to Baxter State Park last weekend with the goal of climbing Mt. Katahdin. Arriving Saturday afternoon at Daicey Pond we were greeted with an outstanding view of the mountain. Too bad we didn't climb that day!

The occasion was significant for me in that my first climb of Katahdin was in August of 1961. Our family had been to Baxter in 1956 and my father and older brothers spent a day on the mountain, but I was too young at the time. My mother, younger brother Phil and I stayed at the campsite at Katahdin Stream Campground and according to my mother a distinguished gentleman came around with a photographer in tow, and we had our photo taken with him--Governor Baxter in the flesh.

In the years that followed, I bugged my father for the opportunity to climb the mountain myself. He insisted on a number of shorter training hikes each summer before a major climb and this year was no different. We always started with Cathead Mountain in the spring and would climb a variety of lesser peaks in the southern Adirondacks that had fire towers at the top. Hadley, Spruce, Crane, Prospect, Wakley. We climbed most of them. By August, during our summer vacation to Wells Beach, Maine, we were ready for Katahdin.

I don't remember much about the climb and other than talking about the Hunt Trail and asking dad how far we had to go, I'm guessing we talked a lot about the Yankees and the incredible home run competition between Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris. By August 11th, the Yanks were on a 9-game win streak in which Mantle had 44 and Maris 42. Overshadowed was Whitey Ford's 20-2 record, quite amazing in itself. Mantle was my favorite. Maris had come from Kansas City the year before and would always be the outsider who didn't come up through the Yankees farm system. (It was only after his death many years later that I and many others appreciated Maris for his record-breaking 61 homers that year, breaking the Babe's long-standing record-with an asterisk). The Yanks would win 109 games that season and go on to win the World Series over the Cincinnati Reds.

The weather was great and the view to the South Basin and Chimney Pond was awe-inspiring. I'll never forget that.

After our climb, we bought a postcard to send to my mother--the view of the mountain from Katahdin Stream Campground.

The weather for my return hike on Sunday didn't quite match my first experience on the mountain but I was pretty happy to be able to make the return trip after fifty years. It's a tough climb, no matter which trail you take and how old you are.

Maybe the Yankees will make a return to the World Series, too. At least Mark Teixeira (32) and Curtis Granderson (31) are hitting homers at a high rate and CC Sabathia (16-6) is leading the league in wins, although the RedSox seem to be dominant when it counts this year. You never know with the Yankees and RedSox.

Jāņi and Other Reasons to Celebrate Latvia

Beth and I recently enjoyed a two week vacation in Latvia, Estonia and Finland last month, featuring some entirely new experiences for both of us including celebration of Jani deina, the Latvian midsummer festival. Learning the traditions of my ancestors was fascinating and fun.

Our trip was highlighted by a number of occasions to spend time with my Latvian relatives, many whom I had never met. While Estonia and Finland were great fun and worthy of return visits, the Latvian stage of our trip was transformational.

This was my 5th trip to Latvia over a six year period (Beth's second) and continued my research of our ancestors, Oscar Wilhelm Maddaus and Augusta Dorothea Rathminder Maddaus, who emigrated from Riga in 1883 and settled in Brooklyn, NY. The research has uncovered some of the extensive portfolio of art produced by Oscar Wilhelm's father, Johann Karl Ludwig Maddaus--11 works are extant that I have been able to document. His paintings and lithographs are held in 4 art museums, three in Latvia and one in Estonia, and serve as alter-pieces in 4 Lutheran churches. While not considered an important 18th-century artist, even by Latvian standards, his work is well-represented.

More complex, and no less extensive, have been the results of the research on Augusta's family. Born to a Latvian father and German mother, Augusta's family name is Rathminder in German, Ratminders in Latvian. Her father, Janis Ratminders, grew up in Zeikari, a hamlet overlooking Alauksts Lake in Vecpiebalga, in the Vidzeme highlands. For some unknown reason, Augusta mis-identified her father as Andzs Ratminders (Janis' brother) and only within the past three years have I been able to discover his true identity. But then, as they say, the fun began, as layer upon layer of Ratminders history and ancestry unfolded. Not only was Janis an interesting figure in his own right--teacher, poet, translator, journalist--his family included some fascinating individuals.

Andzs, his brother, was headmaster for 63 years at the school in Vecpiebalga and taught or hired a number of significant Latvians over the term of his duty.

Lize, his neice, had many suitors, including Andrejs Pumpers, the author of the epic Latvian poem, Lacplesis (The Bearslayer). Eventually, in her 40s, she married Matiss Kaudzites, co-author of the first Latvian language novel, Mernieku Laiki (Time of the Land Surveyors), still a classic. Matiss and his brother Reinis, fashioned characters from those in their community, most notably the heroine, Liene, based on Lize.

Other members of the Ratminders family left another legacy, the resilience to survive the World Wars and foreign occupations in the 20th century which ravaged Latvia until it's 2nd and current period of independence, beginning in 1991. Notably, it is the progeny of Jekabs Ratminders who survive today. The Ratminders name is history--the descendants are Ozola, Avens, Zarina, Snips and Neimane--and over the past year I've been introduced to many of these 4th and 5th cousins through the serendipitious acquaintance with a Latvian school teacher named Mirdza Zommere.

Not only has Mirdza introduced me to her school in Vecpiebalga, but she introduced me to her long-time friend, Anda, a descendant of Jekabs Ratminders and my 4th cousin, and since the first introduction many more. The history of my ancestry and the knowledge of Latvian traditions have enriched my life, but learning of the existence of and getting to know Ratminders relatives has been an unexpected, and treasured experience.

Latvia--August 2009

Our trip to Latvia last summer is now 3 months into history and so far I've intended, but not followed through with, posting blog entries to document it. I have the picture above set as background on my laptop desktop as a reminder. It was taken from the observation tower of St. Peter's Lutheran Church in Old Riga, looking north toward the mouth of the Daugava River in the Baltic Sea.



The week-long stay was my second to Latvia (my first was in 2005) and Beth's first and once again I was determined to search for more details of my ancestors' lives there in the 19th century. In 2005, the search concentrated on my Great Great Grandfather Johann Karl Ludwig Maddaus, an artist and art teacher in Riga. I was also looking for a connection to Andzs Rathminder of Vecpiebalga, presumed to be my Great Grandmother's father, but nothing could document their relationship.



Fortunately, in spite of Russification, two World Wars, German repatriation, the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact between Stalin and Hitler, Nazi Invasion and near 50 year Soviet occupation, Latvia has been independent. Even more miraculously, a fair amount of historical information is available and my ancestors had profiles that warranted modest recording.



A recent breakthrough was the internet access to Raduraksti which consists of digitized records from many of the churches that were active in Latvia in the 19th century. Thanks to some hunches I followed in my search, I was able to find my Great Grandmother's baptism record and her parents names: Johann and Marie Rathminder. Johann's name in Latvian is Janis Ratminders, and he was the younger brother of Andzs Ratminders. Why my Great Grandmother mis-represented her parentage is unknown, but the clarification has opened up new insights to her up-bringing.



Our visit included viewing 9 of Johann Maddaus's paintings in a variety of locations including The National Art Museum in Riga, an exhibit at Rundale Palace, and churches in Garkalnes and Tirza, and a church in neighboring Paistu Estonia. We were taken to the site of Johann's burial plot at the Great Cemetery (Lielie Kapi) in Riga and to another church in Carnikava that once had an altar painting he painted. Both were obliterated during Soviet times, but were among those restoration projects which have been prevalent in Latvia over the past 18 years.



We visited Bauska, Baltezer's, Garkalnes, Carnikava, Vecpiebalga, Gaizinkalns, and Tirza, and met some of the most wonderful people, many of whom I had contacted by email prior to our arrival. We were treated with tremendous hospitality everywhere we went, and at times felt that it was as deeply moving for our hosts to have a great-great grandson of Johann Maddaus to visit his work as it was for me to see it. In many ways the circle had been closed with our meeting.

The Artist

A month after returning from a much needed vacation in Latvia (and Sweden), I 'm still processing the new information uncovered regarding my paternal ancestors who lived in Latvia in the 19th century. The search began at my older brother John's initiative in the early 1990's, in interviewing our father Ingo and documenting as much family history as possible in preparation for a Maddaus family reunion in 1995.

I'd always been interested in the connection with Latvia, since the word Riga rolled off Aunt Frieda's tongue during a family vacation she shared with us in Wells Beach, Maine in the early 60s. Technically a great aunt, she was born there in 1881, as were 5 of her 6 siblings. Riga was part of the Russian Empire at the time and the family patriarch, Johann Karl Ludwig Maddaus, had been one of a number of Germans who settled there. Born in Hamburg, he was an art teacher and artist, specializing in portraits and religious art.

Brother John discovered, with the help of University Southern Maine Professor Juris Ubans, that 2 of Johann Maddaus's paintings were in the collection of the Latvian National Museum of Art, including a self-portrait. The latter is the only image we have of our great great grandfather, but to date it's one of 9 paintings I've had the opportunity to see in Latvia and Estonia during my travels there in 2005 and 2009.

The breakup of the Soviet Union and end of its occupation of Latvia, as well as the advent of the internet, has led to the web publication of a tremendous store of Latvian history in the past 15 years. I've been able to identify members of Johann's family in addition to our Great Grandfather Oscar Wilhelm Maddaus (who emigrated to the US in the latter part of the 19th century) and locate the family burial site in Lielie Kapi (The Great Cemetery) in Riga.

Another revelation was the identity of Oscar's in-laws, the family of Augusta Dorothea Rathminder, the details of whom had been lost sometime after their move to the USA.

There's quite a bit of research to digest, but I'm hoping to record more of it here and in a family history at some future date.

Northeastern University Graduation

Friday, May 1, 2009

TD Banknorth Garden

Boston, MA

The Graduate

Bachelor of Science

Political Science

New Yankee Stadium

In the past few months, with all the talk of bailouts and stimulus packages, the use of the word billion has dramatically increased. (That reminds me of the birthday card my son Caleb sent me a few years back: Dick Cheney to W: "Did you hear we're getting over 100 Brazillian troops to help us?" W: Wow... that's fantastic! How much is a brazillion?") It seems only fitting that the Yankees would open a new stadium that cost that much ($1.5 billion that is, not brazillion).

Jacob and I planned a trip for the first series in the new stadium, a Saturday afternoon game with the Cleveland Indians. We got there at least an hour before game time thinking we'd have time to look around, see monument park and buy a cheese-steak sub before the game started. Everyone else must have had the same idea. We didn't see the monuments, although they're the same ones as in the old stadium anyway, and barely did a circuit around the stadium before heading to our seats with subs in hand, 2 outs into the top of the first.

One of the Yanks' new acquisitions, (costing almost as much as the stadium) Mark Teixiera, hit a homerun in the bottom of the first with Johnny Damon on base, and the good guys had an early 2-run lead. We should have left then while we were ahead, because it went downhill fast from there.

The Indians proceeded to pummel Chin-Ming Wang and a recent minor-league call-up who replaced him, for a major league record 14 runs in the top of the 2nd inning. Unbelieveable! Cleveland probably is wishing they could play all their games there. They used to say that the clubhouse in the old stadium smelled funny. The new stadium is spacious and luxurious and its the team that stinks.

We hung in until the fifth when, at 2-19, it was not even funny anymore. The final score was 4-22. It was probably payback for the last time I saw the Indians and Yankees play, when the Yanks scored 6 in the bottom of the ninth, capped by a walk-off homer by Alex Rodriguez, to win 8-6.

Jacob and I took a detour to Columbia University on the way back to the hotel and visited the Mathematics Department where my father earned his bachelor's and master's degrees back in the early 1930s. It's a pretty campus although high on a hill--we imagined that all 8 million New Yorkers will be up there when global warming puts the rest of the city underwater.

St. Patrick's Day

Watching the news of all the St. Patrick's Day parades and celebrations brought back memories of our Thanksgiving trip to Ireland, so I finally put together a movie consisting of some of our favorite pictures set to Kevin Dolan's brilliant "Oh, To Be in Ireland."

Whether or not I can trace my ancestry back to the McBrides of Donegal or the Willises or another small slice of Irish blood, I feel I have a bit in spirit, in any case.

Galway Ireland

Our visit to Galway was timed as a lunch stop on the way to Limerick (actually we hoped to see the Cliffs of Moher as well, but the day was too short).

We walked through the pedestrian-only shopping district, along William Street

taking in some beautiful music along the way

to Finnegan's on Market Street.

Finnegan's, according to Lonely Planet: "Authentic, utterly unpretentious Irish cooking

and an equally authentic clientele (Beth had the 'homemade shepherd's pie')

make this a wonderful spot for comfort food."

I fulfilled a childhood goal growing up in Galway, NY--visiting Galway, Ireland.

Mullaghmore Head Ireland

After Thanksgiving Dinner at the beautiful Slieve Russell Hotel in County Cavan Ireland, we traveled north and west to our first view of the west coast of Ireland at Mullaghmore Head in County Sligo. Passing Classiebawn Castle, one-time home of the ill-fated Lord Mountbatten, we continued to where sea, sky and clouds formed a brilliant scene.

Dramatic scenery appeared in every direction.

Donegal Bay to the north.

Atlantic Ocean looking west.

The sheep enjoy the view every day.

Jacob took a break and gazed across the Bay to Donegal.

Lough Gur Ireland

Lough Gur is located 21 kilometers southeast of Limerick City where "deep in the rolling hills of County Limerick, an enchanting and rich archeological landscape is simply waiting to be explored." We had arranged to visit Beth's friend Anna's Mater who lives nearby and decided to take in the landscape as well.

A hard frost greeted us as we awoke for a tour of the local sites and after breakfast we began a counter-clockwise circuit of the Lough with a stop at The Great Stone Circle, which dates to 2000 BC.

The circle is the largest of its kind in Ireland, measuring 150 feet in diameter and consisting of 113 upright stones. It is believed that on the 21st of June each year, the Summer Solstice, the morning sun shines through the entrances and illuminates a pattern, suggesting astrological use of the enclosure.
After talking to the cows on the adjacent farm

we met their owner, Timothy Casey, who also maintains the site for visitors and provides his own unique explanation of the circle, sells postcards for the site and accepts donations for maintenance.

Next stop was the New Church, built in the 15th century by the Earls of Desmond as a Chapel of Ease, in ruins by the middle of the 17th century, rebuilt and now in ruins again, with only a shell currently extant.

The scene overlooking the Lough with its surrounding gravestones had a mystical quality under the still heavy frost.

Driving past Wedge Tomb a burial site dating to 2500 BC, we parked at the east end of the Lough in the Visitors Center, closed at this time of year. From the parking lot we climbed above The Spectacles, a replica of a farmstead from 900 AD, to a viewpoint overlooking the Lough.

I can't recall many more beautiful vistas, although I seem to say that about alot of the spots we visited in Ireland.

Here's a compilation of our photos set to Bill Cooley's "Isle of Inishmore."

Leinster House, Dublin Ireland

Jacob's home away from home this fall has been in Dublin where he's studying Irish history, literature and politics in a program called the Institute of Public Administration. A fourth component of the program involves interning in the Dail Eireann, the Irish Parliament.

The Dail meets in the Leinster House on Kildare, not far from Trinity College and St. Stephen's Green in downtown Dublin.

He works for Timmy Dooley, a TD from County Clare in the west of Ireland. Timmy is a member of the ruling Fianna Fail (Republican) Party and serves as Vice-Chair on the European Affairs Committee and it's the latter that is of special interest. Ireland is the only EU member to have not ratified the Lisbon Treaty and Timmy's committee involvement has given Jacob a window on Ireland's struggle to position the country within the EU, maintaining their historic independence and taking economic advantage of their membership. Timmy has been an awesome mentor while keeping an extremely busy schedule during the Dail's Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday weekly schedule.

Judging from Jacob's comments, Timmy has also kept him pretty busy as well, and hopefully it has been a mutually beneficial arrangement.

During our visit, Timmy treated us to dinner at the members-only dining room at the Dail. He arrived well after we were seated due to a meeting commitment, but we had plenty of time to observe his outgoing and gregarious personality and enjoy an outstanding dinner. After dessert we were treated to a gallery-view of a budget vote in the Dail, finishing just after 10PM. Fianna Fail prevailed, though the difficulties in the global economy have certainly complicated the process in Ireland.

Dinner with Timmy Dooley, TD representing County Clare in the Dail Eireann.

Ireland-bound

Growing up just short of the Adirondack foothills in the rural Upstate New York town of Galway, meant spending alot of time in the dairy farming land that surrounded our village home. I enjoyed haying with neighbors, eating wild red raspberries and sledding in the winter. Still I was always alert to the mention of faraway places. One, naturally, was Galway, Ireland.

Galway NY was settled in 1792 by Scottish farmers as New Galloway, and the story goes that, when the town was incorporated in 1838, an Irish clerk in the Saratoga County Registry mis-spelled the name of the new town, and it stood.

Attending Joseph Henry Elementary Elementary School (named for the first secretary of the Smithsonian Institution) in the early 1960s, I did a social studies report in Mr. Rowland's 6th grade class that combined information about Galway NY and Galway Ireland. Other than the name, the two towns had little in common but that didn't deter me. Mr. Rowland overlooked the lack of commonality and rewarded my hard work with a good grade.

Later in life I had my next brush with Ireland when my employer, First NH Banks, was the first banking company outside of Ireland to be purchased by the Bank of Ireland. The year was 1988 and they bought at the top of the market. Soon streams of BOI executives toured all over New Hampshire, even our office in North Conway, to visit their new investment. They included Chief Executive Mark Hely-Hutchinson, a Brit who previously chaired Guiness, and Deputy Chief Executive Frank O'Rourke, an Irishman, but born in Chicago. BOI was optimistic that with 18% unemployment at home, their path to growth was overseas. By the time I left the company in 1991, due to the inevitable consolidation of bank-wide departments, the Irish were regretting their purchase. It took many years for them to recoup their intial losses and sell their share of Citizen's Bank at a profit.

Now the "Celtic Tiger" is at a slight downturn mirroring the world economy, but coming off an extended period of growth that coincided with its menbership in the European Union and lowered the unemployment rate to 3.5%.

Fast-forward to September 2008: youngest son Jacob, a senior majoring in Political Science at Northeastern University, leaves for a semester-long program with the Institute of Public Administration in Dublin. Jacob is taking courses in Irish Literature and History and interning in the Dail (Irish Parliament) with Timmy Dooley, a member of the ruling Fianna Fail Party from County Clare.

Beth and I are headed to Ireland for the Thanksgiving Holiday to see Jacob and a 4-day motor-tour of the country, including Dublin, Belfast, Cavan, Galway, Limerick and as many more sights as we can see. Beth wants to see the Cliffs of Moher and my old First NH White Mountain Bank boss, Mike Kirk, recommended driving the Ring of Kerry, so we'll have to move fast to see all we want to see in 5 days.

To be continued.....

My Vote

My father gave me two insights, among many, into the status of African-Americans in our country in the early 1960s. The first was on a trip to New York City to see relatives in Brooklyn and a ball game in Yankee Stadium. Wherever we went in the city, he cautioned me to stay away from various people of color and I developed a fearful respect of their existence. He never said it, but as I grew older, I sensed that he wasn't practicing racial discrimination, just the recognition that life in the city was difficult and people were just as likely to victimize you for the sake of their own survival (right or wrong) as they were to say or do something nice to you.

One Thanksgiving, Dad, who taught Mathematics at Union College in Schenectady, NY, brought home one of his students for dinner. His name was Bob Holland and he was a star basketball player. I don't remember if the trip to his home outside Detroit, Michigan was too long or if he couldn't afford it, but Dad decided that Bob shouldn't spend the holiday alone and invited him to join us. He was an immediate hit to this family of 4 boys aged 7-17. We all took our turns trying to defeat him at ping pong and when our efforts proved futile, he gave us a second chance by switching to his left hand. Still, his athleticism and skill lifted him to victory.

Bob became a family favorite and in the winters that followed, I begged to attend Union home basketball games to watch Bob and his teammates, who more often than not came away victorious. This congenial, athletic, intelligent, and charismatic man became my new standard for not only people of color, but remarkable individuals of any race. I knew then, at the age of 10 or 11, that race was no limitation in defining a person's potential or character.

Through the civil rights movement of the 60s, the death of Martin Luther King, my college years at a small New England liberal arts school with a limited minority population, I marveled at the dignity of African Americans in the face of such horrible treatment in white America. And I questioned how a country built on the values of equality and opportunity could continue to allow race to be such a divisive factor.

Over the last 40 years, events have suggested improvement in the situation, some with personal connections. I was pleased to see the Sports Editor of my college newspaper from my freshman year, Bryant Gumbel, rise to elevated network TV status. I celebrated in the early 90s reading that a African American college classmate, John Jenkins, had been elected Mayor of the City of Lewiston, Maine--at the time a mostly white town. (John is currently Mayor across the river in Auburn.)

And not long after our whole family was pleased to hear in the news that Bob Holland had been the first person not named Ben or Jerry to be President and CEO of Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream. The irony of his rising to this position, I later learned, was the fact that he (and all others of color) had been barred from Sullivan's Ice Cream Shop, growing up in his hometown of Albion, Michigan.

In my recent visits to New York City, especially Manhattan, I noted the change since the 1960s in terms of the racial landscape. I've walked the streets of Harlem, where my father never would have gone, and witnessed the tremendous diversity downtown, where conceivably every ethnic group in the world is somehow represented; all of them participating in some fashion in the synergy of this financial capital of America.

While New York and other major American cities reflect ethnic diversity as a function of economics, one other place struck me in recent years in the same way: the Santa Monica Pier. A visit with a former Bates College roommate and ski teammate Norton Virgien in California included a walk out on the pier among Asians, Latinos, African Americans and others, all enjoying the beautiful day, the ocean, the pier vendors and performers. They weren't there by necessity and yet all co-existed and reveled in the day.

This week when I cast my vote for President of the United States, I thought of Bob Holland and John Jenkins, New York City and the Santa Monica Pier; and voted for a man who, for the first time in my opinion, will be a President for all Americans, not just those of a certain race or ideology. I don't think that America has a greater need than the leadership of someone who has compassion for all of its citizens and the ability to project it globally.

I'm truly proud to have cast my vote for Barack Obama.