Athmhúintear an Ceacht…

The Lesson Repeats…

by | 2026/05/13 | Personal, Opinion

Athmhúintear an Ceacht…

Our garage is also a small gym and a small office. You can enter it from the house through its own door. It has its own key, but I had never had any reason to lock it.

When a few families with young children came to visit recently, I locked the garage door for the first time, so that no child would go in there by accident.

During the visit, I had to go in and out of the garage a few times to get things that were there. After everyone had left, I tried to go back in to return a few things.

I could not find my keys.

There is a good chance I left the keys inside on my last trip into the garage and closed the door behind me. I could not find a spare key, though I had one. Then it occurred to me that the spare key was inside the garage, which was now locked.

Then I realized how important the garage was in my daily life. That is where I write. That is where I practise guitar. That is where I exercise. It is not elegant or impressive, but it had become a large part of my daily routine.

In the end, I called a locksmith. Fortunately, he was able to open the door without removing the lock and putting a new one in its place. And yes, my keys were sitting there on the desk.

Before he left, I asked him to make a couple of extra keys. I gave one to my wife straight away.

That reminded me of an accident that happened to me last year. For the first time ever, I was not wearing my hiking shoes walking up a mountain. I slipped and broke my ankle.

I realized then that these two incidents in my life were part of a wider pattern.

The real mistake was not that I forgot something. I had changed a routine I had, without putting a new safeguard in place.

A mistake of that kind can be small and annoying, as it was with the garage door. But it can also be much more serious.

Pilots know a lot about mistakes of this kind. In 1987, Northwest Airlines Flight 255 crashed shortly after takeoff in Detroit, in the United States. The National Transportation Safety Board, or NTSB, found that the aircraft took off without the wing flaps being properly set for takeoff. The problem? The crew had not completed the pre-takeoff checklist, and the warning system did not alert them that the plane was not properly configured. The crew failed to carry out an important task, and the warning system failed too.

The World Health Organization, or WHO, studied the use of a simple surgical safety checklist in hospitals in eight cities around the world. The number of major complications fell from 11 percent to 7 percent. The number of patients who died after major operations fell from 1.5 percent to 0.8 percent. It was not that surgeons did not know how to operate. But even skilled people can leave out basic steps when they are interrupted. In many cases, checklists can help avoid mistakes like this. Airlines and hospitals use checklists widely, not only for normal procedures, but also when unusual situations arise. The list itself is not enough, however. It has to be woven into the process. In high-risk situations, that may involve technology, warning systems, and another person confirming the important steps.

I now have my own checklists, for travel and walking, for example. It only takes a minute to go through my checklist, and it helps me avoid mistakes of that kind.

As for the garage door, the solution is now in place. Spare keys are no longer kept in the garage. My wife always has one. Our son too. I now make sure I have my keys any time I leave the car, the house, or the garage.

When I make mistakes like this, the most important thing is to put something in place so they are less likely to happen again.

It is said that the lesson repeats until the student has learned it. I hope I have learned the lesson well from these two recent incidents, and that I will be able to avoid mistakes of this kind from now on.

 

Dírbheathaisnéis 15 – Ag Trasnú Dhroichead na nAlt

Autobiography 15 -Crossing the Rubicon

by | 2026/05/05 | Autobiography

Dírbheathaisnéis 15 - Ag Trasnú Dhroichead na nAlt

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the year when I thought I had come of age. I was fifteen years old and a boarding student at St Kieran’s College, still under the care of the priests.

In that story, I wrote that I asked a girl to do a slow dance with me and that she agreed. Father O’Toole put an abrupt stop to that, saying I had broken the distance rules while dancing. I also saw him dragging another boy from the dance floor because his hair was too long. Later, as a small act of rebellion, I let my own hair grow a little.

That same summer, I attended French classes in town, got a job in a local hotel, and saved enough money to buy my first electric guitar. I also began going to dances in town, where there were no priests to be seen at the edge of the floor watching us. I thought I had crossed the line into the world of adults.

Until I went to Dublin, at any rate.

Before I talk about Dublin, however, I have something to confess here.

I told you about my first dance when I was fifteen years old.

It was a lie.

It was not me who got a tap on the shoulder from Father O’Toole that night. It was one of my friends. I saw it happening. I remember the priest’s face, the girl taking a step back, and the shame of the whole thing. I remember wishing that I myself had the courage to do the same thing.

But I had no courage then.

No courage at all.

My first dance came later, when I was sixteen years old and a day student. And it did not happen as you might think.

I found a bottle of brandy at home in my father’s wardrobe. Dad kept it for special occasions, mostly Uncle John’s visits. The two of them would sit by the fire, each with a small glass of brandy, and talk about the old days.

I found another use for it.

Before a dance, I would pour myself a good glass, drink it quickly, and then fill the bottle back up again with water. I hoped my father would not notice it.

The alcohol would not hit me quickly. I would be inside the dance hall before it began to work on me. Then my shyness would disappear. I could talk. I could smile. I could dance.

I was sixteen years old when I danced with a girl for the first time.

I was drunk.

I have little memory of it now, apart from a few blurred flashes of us on the dance floor. I do not even remember who the girl was.

One night before a dance, a friend of mine came up with an idea that we thought was excellent. He knew where we could get vodka. He had a simple plan. We would have a few drinks beforehand to get ourselves right for the dance.

I did not let on that I was already put right, and I agreed at once.

We hid in the shadow of a doorway on Chapel Lane. We felt daring and grown up. We had the bottle. We had no glasses, no mixers, and no sense. We drank straight from the bottle, quickly and hard.

I drank more than my friend. Much more.

At first, we were fine. Then brave. Then invincible.

After that, nothing.

I do not know what happened to my friend that night. I have no memory of leaving Chapel Lane. I have no memory of going home. The next thing I remember, I was waking in my own bed the following day, so sick that I could not lift my head.

I was sick for three days.

Nowadays, they would say it was alcohol poisoning. At the time, there was nothing to do but suffer. I lay there sweating, retching, and cursing everything that had happened. There was a foul taste in my mouth. My stomach turned at the smell of food. The light hurt my eyes.

To this day, I do not know who found me or who made the phone call that brought me home.

At last, when I was ready to face my parents, they asked me what had happened. I told them the truth. I had drunk vodka with a friend to get the courage to go dancing.

I thought they would keep me at home for the rest of my life. Instead, they let it pass. They must have thought I had already received my punishment.

St Kieran’s College gave generations of priests to the wider world, and some of the best hurlers in the country as well. But it did not prepare boys like me for dance halls, drink, girls, or the confusion that comes with growing up.

The only thing I knew for certain, as I lay in bed recovering after that night on Chapel Lane, was that something had changed in me forever. I was in a place I had never been before.

I had crossed the Rubicon.

Then came Dublin.

 

Daonáireamh 1926

1926 Census

by | 2026/04/29 | Current Affairs, National News, Personal, History, Opinion

1926 Census

When the 1926 Irish Census was put online recently, it opened up new possibilities for genealogical research.

My wife drew my attention to it after she saw the news. Since then, the two of us have spent many hours researching our family history.

For anyone with Irish roots, this is a treasure trove. The information is limited, but it is enough to give a glimpse of that time, and of the lives our ancestors lived.

The census was taken on April 18, 1926, under the administration of the Irish Free State. Unlike the 1901 and 1911 censuses, which covered all 32 counties, this one covered the 26 counties of the new State.

What makes it powerful is what you can do with it. The 1926 census acts as a bridge back to 1911. From there, you can go back to 1901, and then into Griffith’s Valuation—a mid-19th-century property tax record that serves as a vital substitute for missing census data from that era. After that, you can find further information in the birth, marriage, and death records available on IrishGenealogy.ie.

The Mayo Connection

In this article, I will focus on part of my own family line as an example of what can be done. There is much more still for me to explore.

I began with my father’s side. That was easier. My father was born in 1925, so there he was in the 1926 census, a nine-month-old baby. His older brothers and sisters were there too, along with my grandparents, all on a single handwritten page.

Seven of them were living in a two-room thatched cottage on 16 acres in Drumreagh, on the Mullet Peninsula in County Mayo. Later, when Sheila was born, there would be eight.

Using that information, I stepped back to 1911. There I found my great-grandfather, Michael Barrett, a widower, living in the same house with my grandfather and some of his adult siblings and a cousin. Going back again to 1901, he was there with his wife Julia and their nine children.

A Sad Story

My father gave me a hand-drawn family tree some years ago, which he had put together with his brother John. Although not complete, it proved invaluable. It confirmed the research I was doing and gave me important clues for where to look next.

There was sadness in that family tree that was not immediately visible in the census records. My father’s records showed that three children in the previous generation—Ellen, Mary, and William—had died young. I found records online for two of them. Mary died at six days old. Ellen died at four months. I have not yet found William. It must have been devastating for the family to lose three out of nine children so young.

I searched the birth, marriage, and death records on IrishGenealogy.ie and was pleased to see that the civil records and census records matched. The civil records also provided new information. I discovered that my great-grandmother Ellen Monaghan’s father was named Richard Barrett. My father had written “Dick” in the relevant box on his family chart. Things were lining up again.

The Poet of Erris

My father told me that the connection back to the well-known Dick Barrett came through his mother’s side. Since my great-great-grandfather on my father’s mother’s side was named Richard Barrett, that strengthened the case.

Riocard (Dick) Bairéad was an Irish-language poet, satirist, and schoolteacher. He was involved with the United Irishmen and the 1798 Rebellion. He is best remembered as a poet. Among his works are “Eoghan Cóir” and “Preab san Ól.”

Another interesting name on my father’s chart was my great-great-grandfather, Éamon Barrett. I searched Griffith’s Valuation and found nothing under Éamon. Then I tried Edward Barrett.

There he was. On the same sixteen acres in Drumreagh. A tenant farmer. His landlord was Tobias Kirkwood. By 1901, it appears that Michael Barrett was no longer a tenant farmer but owned the land.

Heritage and Meaning

According to my father, Edward was the first Barrett to settle in Drumreagh as a tenant farmer. By 1901, eleven people were living in the same two-room thatched house. Seven in 1911. Seven again in 1926, including my father.

Life was hard in those days. In the mid-19th century, it must have been especially difficult for Edward Barrett and his family to survive. It is likely that he was farming that land during the time of the Great Famine. In June 1847, hundreds of starving people from Erris reached the workhouse in Ballina, only to be turned away because it was already full. People were living from hand to mouth, in conditions that are hard to imagine today.

I know from my father’s records that two of his uncles emigrated to Chicago in the 1910s. That is another line to follow later. There is a good chance I have relatives here in the United States.

When I look at all those names on the census pages, it strikes me that each one was a person, with a life and a story. Now, only the name remains on paper. Everything else is lost in the mist of time.

It is a sobering thought to see my uncle, my grandfather, and my great-grandfather there in the records, all sharing the same name as me—Michael Barrett. They give me context. They give me meaning.

I am sure many who read this are carrying out their own research using the 1926 census, tracing their families, and learning more about where they came from and how they lived.

I have only followed one line so far. There are many more to explore, and it will take time.

If you have not had the chance yet, I hope my story encourages you to explore your own family roots in the 1926 census.

 

Comhaltas Barry Cogan

Comhaltas Barry Cogan

by | 2026/04/22 | Personal

Comhaltas Barry Cogan

At one point in the evening, Sinéad and I looked around the room, then at each other, and realized that almost everyone else there had an instrument except us.

The host already had a mandolin in his hands. Someone else pulled a banjo from its case. Another person came in with uilleann pipes. After that came a flute, tin whistle, guitar, bodhrán, and more than one fiddle. The musicians sat down in a circle.

We had come to a house concert in La Jolla with no idea that a traditional music session would follow.

The evening began with a shared meal, though it was for the concert itself that we had come. The woman of the house gave us a warm welcome and offered us her own place on the couch, where we squeezed in close together. That was the kind of gathering it was: informal, generous, welcoming.

Brian Conway was the main musician that night. He was on the West Coast to promote a new album. Máirtín de Cógáin, a musician and storyteller from Carrigaline in County Cork, who has been living in the United States for the past twenty-three years, helped to organize the concert. He knows Brian and had played with him before. He invited us to attend the concert, and we gladly accepted.

Conway is no ordinary fiddler. He was born in the Bronx, and is widely regarded as one of the leading exponents of the Sligo style in America. He first learned from Martin Mulvihill and Martin Wynne, and Andy McGann also had a major influence on him. He spent his working life as a prosecutor. Now, in retirement, he devotes himself completely to the fiddle, as a teacher and musician.

In the first half of the concert, it was just Brian and his fiddle before us. He played in the Sligo style handed down from Michael Coleman. He drew beautiful tunes from the instrument, some lively and spirited, others quiet, almost wistful. He moved between tunes from his teachers and pieces he had composed himself.

Between tunes, he spoke about his life, about the Irish-American tradition, and about the musicians who shaped him. It was clear how deeply he respected his teachers.

In the second half of the program, the New York fiddler Cate Sandstrom joined him. Their playing was so close that at times it felt as though a single instrument, stronger and sweeter than any one instrument, was playing in the room.

After their music, as we were getting ready to head home, we heard talk of a session that was about to begin.

Anyone who wanted to play was welcome. We thought a few musicians might stay. Instead, the room changed before our eyes. People went out and came back with their instruments. Máirtín sat down and began to sing.

The music gathered around him naturally. After that he took up the bodhrán and played it softly, keeping the rhythm steady without overpowering the other instruments. These were not casual musicians. They had the tunes at their fingertips. This was Comhaltas Barry Cogan, the San Diego branch of Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann, named in honor of Barry Cogan, a prominent figure in Comhaltas, who inspired the founding of the branch through his son, Máirtín. They meet every week for classes and sessions. It was a performance that was tight, confident, and alive. Even the host himself was a strong mandolin player.

A thought struck me. There before us, thousands of miles from home, Irish culture was in full flow. It was there not as a relic, but as something vividly alive.

We came to hear a concert and got far more than that. It was a real pleasure to listen to the session, but better still to take part in it. I will have to attend one of the Comhaltas weekly sessions. Perhaps I will bring a tin whistle or a guitar with me next time.

 

Dearcadh Trump agus Leo ag teacht glan salach ar a chéile

Trump and Leo in Direct Conflict

by | 2026/04/15 | Current Affairs, International News, Politics, Opinion

Trump and Leo in Direct Conflict

As Pope Leo XIV flew to Algeria on April 13, he was asked about the latest attack Donald Trump had made on him. The Pope said he had no fear of Trump and would continue to speak out against the war.

On April 7, Leo said Trump’s threat against Iran was “completely unacceptable” - extraordinarily direct words for a pope to use when speaking about a sitting American president. He said threats against civilian populations raised serious moral and legal questions, and he urged people to pressure governments to move towards peace. A few days later, at a prayer vigil in St. Peter’s Basilica, he again spoke of the “delusion of omnipotence” that feeds war and warned against using God’s name to bless violence. It was clear who and what he was referring to.

Trump’s reply came in his usual sharp, insulting style. He said Leo was “weak on crime” and “terrible on foreign policy”, and urged him to focus on being pope rather than acting like a politician. Then Trump crossed another line. He posted an AI-generated image of himself online in a pose that evoked Jesus, and later took it down after an angry public backlash. He said he had intended to portray himself as a doctor, not as Christ, but by then the damage had been done.

Leo did not raise the tension, though he responded wisely and firmly. He said his message was rooted in the Gospel, not in politics. He said the Church had a duty to speak for peace, dialogue and reconciliation. While in Algeria, he condemned “neocolonial” conflicts and violations of international law. The Pope made it clear that he had every right to speak on ethical and moral questions concerning war and peace.

This clash has been building for some time. Even before he was elected Pope, Robert Prevost criticised Trump’s politics, especially on the issue of immigration. In his first address as Pope to diplomats in May 2025, he said the dignity of immigrants had to be respected. In September 2025 he went even further, saying that someone who opposes abortion while accepting the “inhuman” treatment of immigrants cannot so easily claim to be “fully pro-life”.

The conflict between Trump and Leo has both political and spiritual significance. Trump succeeded in improving his standing among Catholic voters in the 2024 election. AP VoteCast found that 54% of Catholic voters voted for him, up from the near-even split in 2020. Trump attracts conservative Catholics because of the judges he appointed, his stance on abortion and his anti-liberal position. But Leo’s words on poverty, migration and peace compel every Catholic to look at their own political choices through the lens of their faith and the teachings of the Church.

There was also a strong backlash against Trump because of the fight he started with the Pope, both inside the Church and outside it. Archbishop Paul S. Coakley of Oklahoma City said the Pope was not in political competition with Trump, but was the Vicar of Christ speaking from the Gospel. AP reported that many Catholics in America were upset by the President’s attack on the first American Pope. In Italy, even Giorgia Meloni, who is usually careful in what she says about Trump, called his remarks “unacceptable”. That was significant because Meloni is one of the European leaders closest to Trump’s outlook. When even she feels compelled to draw a line, it suggests Trump misread both the office he was attacking and the watching audience around the world.

What makes this conflict so striking is that both men are speaking to Americans, but from very different ideas of strength. We know Trump’s version well: dominance, mockery, force and refusal to yield. Leo’s version is almost the opposite: restraint, moral clarity, care for the weak and suspicion of the powerful. While Trump sees a pope criticising him directly, Leo sees Trump going against the teachings of the Catholic Church.

Pope Leo is not easy for Americans to dismiss. He is American. He speaks in clear moral language. And his standing is exceptionally strong among American Catholics: a Pew Research Center survey published in September 2025 showed that 84% of them viewed him favourably. That does not mean every Catholic will now turn against Trump. But it does mean Trump chose to start a fight with a figure whose moral authority extends far beyond Rome.

There are other warning signs too for the Trump administration. Reuters reported that public confidence in the U.S. economy is at a very low level, driven in part by inflation and rising petrol prices linked to the war in Iran. In Hungary, Viktor Orbán also discovered that strong outside backing cannot simply be taken for granted. Trump endorsed him. JD Vance travelled to Budapest to show support. Reuters also reported that Russian sources, or sources linked to Russia, were boosting pro-Orbán messages before the vote. Even so, Orbán lost heavily to Péter Magyar.

That leaves a real choice before Americans at the ballot box, especially Republican Catholics. Will they heed the Pope’s clear condemnation of war, harsh immigration policies and moral indifference, or will they continue to support policies that conflict with the values they claim to hold? The answer should become clearer after the U.S. midterm elections in November, and it could set the stage for significant long-term change in American politics.

 

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