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Arts, People

Catherine Barry & Charlie: The Dublin Author Pens Her Story of Recovery

 

Catherine Barry's new memoir, "Charlie & Me"

All of us have our demons, but few of us ever can, or do, write about them as honestly and eloquently as Catherine Barry has in her new memoir titled “Charlie & Me.” 

The writer, Dublin born and bred, has three well-received novels to her name: “The House that Jack Built (2001),” “Null and Void (2002)” and “Skin Deep (2004),” as well as a place on the fund advisory board of the Dove Self-Esteem Awareness campaign.  But for her latest book, Barry is mining her own life, and turning the focus to her fierce battle with recovery from alcoholism.

“There’s a saying,” Barry told me by phone from her home in Dublin. “It’s called a ‘dry drunk.’  It’s when someone stops drinking, but they still have the disease.  In the beginning, you’re just so thrilled to not be drinking, it’s a honeymoon period. But then, you start having to deal with the issues underneath, what made you drink in the first place.”

Barry began her recovery in 1993, on an April night when she made her way to her first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.  She had finally said the words to herself, and out loud to her physician, “I think I might have a bit of a drinking problem.”  Still, she had already turned around to leave the meeting before it began when she felt a staying hand on her shoulder.  Charlie Gallagher, who would become her sponsor, her mentor, her lifeline, her savior, and her title character, had found her. And with a smile and the words “Welcome home, Cathy,” he led her back inside.

The decision to begin her story on the first day of her journey to recovery was deliberate; Barry realized that many of the books on the topic of alcoholism start with the destructive road to the bottom, and end at the point where the person decides to seek help. But for Barry, and for everyone facing recovery, that’s where the real fight begins.

“I literally woke up in the middle of the night with the idea for ‘Charlie & Me.’  I was in the middle of writing another book at the time, when I realized that this was what I was meant to be writing.  I knew I was onto something, I just felt that with this book.  I’m on a mission now to just tell the truth because it needs to be told. I don’t think I would have made it through the first year without Charlie.”

At the time, Barry was the unemployed mother of two small children, and was in the process of removing herself from an abusive marriage: “I had no job, no money, I was in an insane marriage.”  She was at her rock bottom.

Charlie, as Barry writes about him with undying love and affection, is a character quite unlike any other.  He had to begin their relationship by explaining what a sponsor was, by telling Barry that he would “simply pass on the tools of recovery as they had been passed on to him twenty-five years earlier.”  He would help her get, and stay, sober.

He was a man who had equal parts passion for coaxing dilapidated old cars to run for him, for collecting junk that he masqueraded as antiques, for chain-smoking rolled up tobacco cigarettes, for dressing up dapper in suits of many colors and hats of many feathers and for warbling Sinatra tunes off-key. “He wasn’t a saint,” Barry told me, but as she writes in her book, Charlie “imparted his wisdom, warmth and sense of humour to me…His attitude towards life gave me a blueprint—an instruction book on decent living, if you like.”

“The funny thing, I suppose,” Barry laughed, “is that we were a bit like the blind leading the blind. Two sick people trying to help each other, like the patients themselves healing each other.  It was a strange paradox that I still don’t fully understand.”

It was Charlie who encouraged Barry to begin really using her writing talent. “I was always writing as a child, always writing diaries. I fell in love with the smell, the ambiance of libraries. I would write short stories and poems…and then put them in the drawer. “

But there was one poem of Barry’s that a friend had had written up and framed for her. Charlie noticed it hanging on the wall one evening, and commented, “God, that’s brilliant…Do you know who wrote it?”  When Barry replied that she was the author, Charlie wouldn’t let her off the hook until she’d shown him what else she’d written. He made her type out the poems, and begin the submission process.

“We writers, we’re always the last people to see it in ourselves.  I’m always looking for validation from the outside world. I used to pester other authors and say ‘Am I a writer?’ You have to acknowledge it yourself.”

Writing “The House that Jack Built” came about as a bit of a dare, when someone said to Barry, “You know, you could write a book.” She could barely conceive of it, but she persevered.

“The day I got the check for the advance on the first book, I brought the check to the bank and then kept waiting for them to ring me and tell me that it had bounced.  It’s almost like a passion for self-destruction that an alcoholic has…practicing forgiveness is something you have to do up until the day you die.”

Barry is unstinting in her honesty as she recounts the darkest days of her early recovery.  One chapter in particular recounts her obsession with a boyfriend who had his own issues of addiction.

“A lot of people have spoken to me about that chapter. It’s struck a nerve with many people.  It’s the mentality of ‘Now I’ve stopped drinking…what other things can I use to distract myself from the pain that started the drinking in the first place.’ I wanted to fix this man; I’d spent my life trying to fix other people. There was a hole in me that I wanted to fill, and it’s just the same old thing. It’s what I see addiction is, trying to find a way to cope with the pain.”

“And while I’m saying this,” Barry laughed. “I still haven’t figured it all out.  Insanity—the definition is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“I just say, ‘Go for progress and not perfection.’”

Barry’s mission to “just tell the truth” has produced a beautiful, poignant, funny, devastating memoir. Even seeing the end coming, I have to say I sobbed as I finished the book. Her personal triumph is that she continues her recovery, one day at a time, and that she has shared her story with the world. Based around her fight for sobriety and stability, it’s a narrative that will resonate with anyone battling any kind of demons.  Although I daresay readers will wish they had their own Charlie by their side for the rumble.

“Charlie said it to me, that I can’t stop from touching the flame, and he was right. That’s the way I am. But I found a higher power and I still continue to rely on that higher power today. Forgiveness is a process.”

Charlie always told Barry that “the writing will cure you” and she has never felt that more strongly than with this book. “I feel like it’s saving my life all over again. This is the road I want to be on…I’ve found my voice now.”

“Charlie & Me” can be ordered online through www.amazon.uk and www.easons.com. And check out Catherine Barry’s facebook page at: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Catherine-Barry/230954423587434#!/pages/Catherine-Barry/230954423587434

News, People

Philadelphia’s Fond Farewell to Alan Farrelly

The Irish Center's Tom Farrelly (no relation) presents a token of recognition to outgoing New York Irish Vice Consul Alan Farrelly.

The Irish Center's Tom Farrelly (no relation) presents a token of recognition to outgoing New York Irish Vice Consul Alan Farrelly.

Irish Vice Consul Alan Farrelly has spent a good deal of time in Philadelphia, strengthening ties with the Quaker City Irish community.

He’s leaving the post after four years and returning to Ireland in August, but Philadelphia’s Irish made sure his hard work here was recognized.

There were a few speeches, some parting gifts and a bit of music and dance to mark the occasion. But mostly, representatives of the Philadelphia Irish Center and the organizations that make their home there lined up to shake his hand, say a few words of thanks and to have their pictures taken with Farrelly in the center’s cozy little Fireside Room. (Earlier, they had him out on the roof, looking out upon the badly needed repairs. An unfailingly polite young man in a dark suit on a hot day, standing out above the trees of Mount Airy, still doing the government’s business.)

President of the Irish Center Vince Gallagher and board member Tom Farrelly (no relation) led the brief, mostly informal ceremonies, which also honored first secretary Lorraine Christian, who also is returning to Ireland.

“They were never strangers here,” said the Philadelphia Farrelly. “We adopted them, and they adopted us.”

As the Irish Farrelly accepted a commemorative pen-and-clock set from his local admirers, he acknowledged that the admiration is mutual, and he added, “we’re proud to have been a part of the work you do here.”

Farrelly’s involvement—indeed, the involvement of the entire Irish Consulate staff in New York—has been deeply appreciated in the Philadelphia area, said Siobhán Lyons, executive director of the Irish Immigration Center of Philadelphia.

“Alan has just been great,” said Lyons. “The Consul General can’t be every where, so one of Alan’s jobs has been to travel to different places. A lot of that started with (former New York Consul General) Niall Burgess’s recognition that the East Coast of the United States is not just New York City.

“Alan’s been extremely helpful with the Irish Immigration Center. He was there when I was taking it over, and helping to figure out the future strategy of the center. He’s met everybody. It’s going to be a shame to lose him because he knows so many people and he likes Philadelphia. Those will be very big shoes to fill.”

We captured some photographs of Farrelly’s farewell fete at the Irish Center. Check them out.

Arts, People

5 Questions With Colin Quinn

Colin Quinn (photo by Carol Rosegg)

Colin Quinn (photo by Carol Rosegg)

History class is in session. It’ll only take 75 minutes, but at the end you’ll know everything.

You’ll know how empires rose and fell. You will learn how the British conquered the world through the sheer force of their withering contempt, why the Chinese just couldn’t stop building that wall, and why there are fewer countries more irrelevant than Australia.

And it’ll all be lots funnier than history as taught by Sister back in the fourth grade. She was a humorless cow, anyway.

“Long Story Short,” Colin Quinn’s acid interpretation of the events that shaped great nations and then brought them to their knees—punch-drunk, bewildered and condemned to keep committing the same disastrous mistakes over and over again—comes to the Susanne Roberts Theatre this week. The one-man show, directed by Jerry Seinfeld, runs from June 28 through July 10, 2011.

You’ll remember Quinn from his five-year stint on Saturday Night Live.  His face redefines the meaning of craggy, and his widow’s peak carves out an impressive capital letter M across his forehead. Quinn has amazingly literate comedic sensibilities, and he offers up some head-spinning observations on the human condition, but the lines are delivered in a streetwise Brooklyn-ese, with a voice that sounds like a truck dumping a load of crushed rock. He stalks the stage (with a crumbling Roman amphitheatre as a backdrop), making some astonishing points as he goes along. For example, a riff in which he compares Antigone of Greek mythology to “Jersey Shore’s” self-obsessed Snooki, or re-envisioning Caesar as Goodfella mobster Ray Liotta. The show is fast-paced—in Quinn’s world, each empire rises and falls in about ten minutes’ time.

Of course, you’re not meant to take any of it seriously. Scott Brown, writing for New York Magazine, recalled a quote from director Seinfeld in which he described the making of “Long Story Short” as “taking a fatuous premise and proving it with rigorous logic.”

We chatted with Quinn by phone this week, and here’s what he had to say about the show and his Irish-American upbringing.

Q. A headline for the Hollywood Reporter review described your show like this: “The History Channel meets Comedy Central.” It was actually a pretty good review, but that kind of Hollywood pitch line description doesn’t really measure up to what you’ve done. The history of the world in 75 minutes is an Olympian task. How hard was it to pull all of that material together and make all the connections?

A. It like to play around with this stuff, anyway. I always think in terms of “combinations.” It’s always in my head somehow. It’s all people stuff to me. Altogether, it took a few months to bring together—different hours, different times.

Q. If you’re going to talk about the British Empire and the Roman Empire (and more), you really do have to have some sense of history. You couldn’t have tackled the “demise of empires” with just a Cliff’s Notes knowledge of history. So I suppose I could put this more delicately, but how did you get so smart?

A. Most of it, I feel like its common enough knowledge. And we (comedians) have a lot of free time. We can read any time we want. I read a lot. I don’t reads that much history—I was never all that interested in history. I’m really more interested in the global village. I feel like everything else. These connections have been going on since time began.

Q. For those who haven’t seen the show, how did you figure out that you could make the connection between Antigone and Snooki?

A. That junction is just based on the fact that what people used to watch is not like what people watch now. (Now) we see Snooki crying on her knees over the loss of her cell phone.Most people wouldn’t know who Antigone is, but I went to a few acting classes so I know my stuff.

Q. You’ve probably been asked this before, but did you have any qualms about how or whether stand-up translates to a long-running Broadway monologue—the kind of story-telling that has been compared to the work of Spalding Gray? What were the challenges?

A. My own form of comedy is long-form, rambling comedy. I just wanted to do something thematic for a change of pace. To me, that was really like a natural state. It wasn’t like I was doing a bunch of one-liners before that, anyway.

Q. We’re an Irish web site, so of course we need to ask you something Irish. Happily, you’ve already gone there with an earlier show, “Colin Quinn: An Irish Wake.” And here again you’ve been lauded for your story-telling powers. The New York Times review described you as a kind of modern-day incarnation of the Irish “seanchai.” (“Story-teller,” in the Irish language.) You grew up in Brooklyn, coming from an Irish family, and knowing a lot of the local Irish–evidently providing you with a wealth of material. Can you tell us how growing up Irish influenced you?

A. Irish people, they like to read more than most people. I feel like that helps a lot. And I feel like Irish people are very verbal. I definitely feel like my Irish blood helps me to be a performer and a writer of comedy.

For more information on the show, check out the Philadelphia Theatre Company Web site.

News, People

Honors for the ‘Gold Standard of an Irish Gentleman’

Bob Haley and Joe Montgomery

Bob Haley and Joe Montgomery

When it comes to award banquets and the like, there are times when an organization has a hard time figuring out who to honor.

For the Firefighter John J. Redmond Division of the Ancient Order of Hibernians, it was a no-brainer.

At their Hibernian Service Award ceremony Friday night at the Firefighters Union Hall in Center City, the Redmond AOH honored the only living person to have an AOH division named after him (Division 65 in Upper Darby): Joe Montgomery.

“He was chosen by a committee of our executive board,” says Bob Haley, president of Ancient Order of Hibernians Division 22. “Joe’s name wasn’t even challenged.”

Haley, who is 48, recognizes well that Joe Montgomery is from another generation (he’s 90), but he says Montgomery is not set in his ways and he’s open to new thoughts and ideas. Since he’s been around the block a few times, though, Montgomery can be relied upon to provide wise counsel. And the young guys are all too willing to learn from the master.

“Joe is a friend to almost every division in the Philadelphia area and throughout Pennsylvania,” said Haley. “Joe is Pennsylvania’s oldest Hibernian. He’s been around long enough so that he knows what’s been tried and hasn’t worked. He’ll sit there and listen to you and what you have to say, and he’ll give you advice. Still, he likes to say, ‘It’s your generation who will keep the AOH going.’

“Joe’s been to every convention, not just the state but the national. He’s been an officer on almost every level. Everybody knows Joe Montgomery.”

In addition to Montgomery’s longtime dedication to the AOH, Haley says Montgomery is noteworthy for yet another reason: He’s what Bob Gessler, founder of the Hibernian Hunger Project and a leader among Philadelphia Hibernians, has called “the gold standard for an Irish gentleman.” Haley notes that Montgomery used to live at 11th and Jackson and, as a younger man, worked as a teamster.

“He went to work in a suit and tie every day,” says Haley. “He’d change into his work clothes when he got to work. That’s the kind of guy he was.”

The division honored several other people of note:

Hibernian of the year
Hubert Gantz
President Garrettford – Drexel Hill Vol. Fire Co.
AOH Div. 22 Recording Secretary

Irishman of the Year
Edward Dougherty
National Hibernian Hunger Project Chairman
President AOH Div. 39

Ladies Hibernian of the Year
Debbie Lenczynski
Treasurer LAOH Div. 22

 

News, People

No Fries with That

Hibernian Hunger Project volunteers Ed and Pat Costello and friend.

When you’re used to cooking for thousands, dinner for a couple dozen people  is no sweat. Okay, if you’re at the stove, maybe there’s a little sweat. But volunteers from the Philadelphia area’s Hibernian Hunger Project (HHP), a national charitable program of the Ancient Order of Hibernians, didn’t let a little heat drive them out of the kitchen.

On Monday, June 13, they prepared roast beef, mashed potatoes, baked chicken breasts, lasagna, eggplant parmagiana, various veggies, salad, and dessert for the children and families staying at the Ronald McDonald House on Erie Avenue, next to St. Christopher’s Hospital for Children.

Like the Hibernian Hunger Project, which feeds thousands of needy people around the country, the 300 Ronald McDonald Houses around the US trace their roots to Philadelphia and something Irish.

In 1974, a pediatric oncologist at The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, Audrey Evans, MD, met with Eagles General Manager Jimmy Murray whose team was raising funds to support a player whose daughter was being treated for leukemia at St. Chris’s. Murray reached out to McDonalds which offered the proceeds from the sales of its Shamrock Shake to build a place where families of children being treated at local medical facilities could stay. Children come from all over the country—in fact, all over the world—to Philadelphia which has three children’s hospitals—CHOP, St. Chris’s, and Shriner’s at Temple University.

The first Ronald McDonald House was carved from a seven-bedroom home on Spruce Street near CHOP and a brand new facility, with 18 guestrooms, opened in 2008 at St. Chris’s. It costs families $15 a night to stay at the Ronald McDonald House, unless they can’t pay. Then, it’s free.

As is much of the labor. There’s only a few paid staff and, though St. Chris’s house has a state-of-the-art kitchen that even Emeril would love, all meals are cooked and served by volunteers.

“I had no idea that all the food was donated,” said Donna Donnelly, who serves on the HHP Board, as she popped two trays of mashed potatoes in one of the ovens, alongside bubbling trays of seasoned chicken breasts. “I also didn’t realize that they had somebody different to cook for them every night. I can see where it would be a comfort, after a day of sitting by a child’s bedside, to come back and have a home-cooked meal.”

On the other side of the kitchen, Ed Costello and his wife, Pat, were slicing up the roasts that had been simmering in 50-gallon slow cookers of all day.

“This is making me hungry!” called another volunteer, sniffing the rich aroma perfuming the air.

At another oven, Kathy Gessler and Patty-Pat Koslowski were minding the lasagna, the eggplant parm, and the chicken gravy. “Pass me the cheese,” said Koslowski, who works for a caterer. “I need to put the finishing touches on this.”

The man who created the Hibernian Hunger Project, Bob Gessler, former president of AOH Div. 87, made the connection with the Ronald McDonald House last March, after he saw volunteers serving breakfast to families on St. Patrick’s Day. “I talked to them about having us come in and while we couldn’t do it on St. Patrick’s Day, we decided to do shamrocks for the staff and the families,” he explained. The potted “shamrocks”—actually oxalis plants—are still in all the kitchen windows.

A tribute to the staff’s ability to attract volunteer chefs, the next available time was in June.

Gessler saw the undertaking as a way to involve more people in HHP, which holds regular “cook-ins” during which they make up to 6,000 meals for the elderly and shut-ins served by Aid for Friends, a nonprofit organization in Northeast Philadelphia. All year long, local AOHs collect canned goods or raise money for HHP. They make and deliver food baskets at the holidays. “We’re always looking for ways to get more people connected to HHP,” says Gessler. While the cook-ins draw hundreds who work, assembly line style, preparing meals for freezing, volunteers rarely see the fruits of their labor—the smile on the face of someone savoring the meal.

“I saw this as something that’s on a smaller scale, something they can own,” he says. “People want to help. Sometimes they don’t know how to help. They don’t have to spend any money. We have the money. What we need are your time and talents.”

At 6 sharp, the receptionist at the front desk announced over the loud speaker: “Dinner is now being served by the Hibernian Hunger Project” and the first takers appeared in the dining room and got into the buffet line: staff members, moms, dads, grandparents, children wearing wrist tags identifying them as patients. The volunteers hung back, watching as the food was scooped and piled onto plates.

And, about 20 minutes into the meal, they got their reward. “They’re coming back for seconds!” whispered one. For a volunteer with the Hibernian Hunger Project, that’s equivalent to “my compliments to the chef.”

See the photos from the Hibernian Hunger Projects kitchen duty at the Ronald McDonald House.

People

Tom Keenan’s Kodak Moment

Tom Keenan, in the rain, at a recent Philadelphia St. Patrick's Day parade.

Tom Keenan, in the rain, at a recent Philadelphia St. Patrick's Day parade.

Dress in a leprechaun suit or win a tiara, dance a jig or sing “Danny Boy,” march in the Patrick’s Day parade or hoist a pint anywhere in the Philadelphia area, and chances are pretty good that Tom Keenan will be there with his camera to record the occasion for posterity. Or the Irish Edition. Either one.

Keenan has been documenting virtually every aspect of Irish life in the Delaware Valley since the mid-’90s. He’s zoomed in on everyone from Irish presidents to Kensington publicans. He knows everybody, and they know him. He’s the slim, average-looking guy with the graying brown hair and the brushy moustache who quietly slips into the ballroom or onto the ball field, settles into the background and quietly, dutifully records all those Celtic Kodak moments.

The Irish Edition’s longtime shooter clearly loves being on the viewfinder side of the camera. It’s a passion he developed early in life, never realizing that his hobby might someday become a profession. He’s grateful for that, and he’s happy to continue playing the role of invisible man.

That’s why, he confesses, he’s a little embarrassed to be on the receiving end of an award recognizing his service, to be presented Sunday afternoon at the Penn’s Landing Irish Festival. “That’s why I’m on the other side of the camera,” he says. “I take pictures of other people doing good stuff.”

To Michael Bradley, Philadelphia St. Patrick’s Day parade director and emcee of the Penn’s Landing festival, Keenan’s “aw, shucks” attitude just proves that he richly deserves the attention.

“When you hear a remark like that, you know that’s the right person to honor,” says Bradley. “There are always so many people behind the the scenes who don’t get recognition. Tommy’s at everything. I’ve never seen him honored. He’s gotta be there for 20-30 years and never any recognition. I don’t see a lot of people saying ‘thank you.’ I thought he was a great choice.”

That Keenan would ever become such an integral part of the fabric of Philadelphia’s Irish community is as much a surprise to him as it is to anybody. He’s been part of the community for his entire life. His grandparents are from Ireland, and his uncle Mike Ruan headed up Irish Northern Aid in Delaware County. “When I was a kid,” he recalls, “my parents used to take me and my brothers to the Irish Center. That was our playground.”

As an adult, he became active in the Ancient Order of Hibernians. Still, he didn’t set out to be the Philadelphia Irish community’s unofficial documentarian.

Tom Keenan first started taking photos as a leisure-time pursuit back in the ‘70s when he served in the Navy. “I always took pictures wherever I went,” he says. “I entered some contests and won some amateur contests. People liked what I did.”

After his discharge, Keenan didn’t completely sever his ties to the Navy. He settled into a job at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard, installing missile systems. Then, in the early ‘90s, work at the shipyard started to slow down—and on September 30, 1995, the facility closed, costing Keenan his job.

“When they closed the shipyard, I had to find a new career,” Keenan says. “They offered to send us back to school for something, so I decided to go to Antonelli Institute (in Erdenheim, Montgomery County) for photography.”

Round about the same time, he noticed that the Irish Edition office was in Wyndmoor, just around the corner from school. He’d spent a lifetime in the Philadelphia Irish community and he thought shooting photos for the paper might be a good fit.

“I looked for a niche,” he says. “Jane Duffin (the editor) is a very nice lady, and she started to send me out on projects. Over the years, I’ve developed a pretty good clientele from it.”

Keenan is quick to point out that photographing Irish people and events is only a part of his business these days. “There’s nothing I can’t shoot,” he says.

Maybe there is one thing Tom Keenan can’t shoot. That moment will come on Sunday afternoon, when he steps onto the main stage overlooking Penn’s Landing’s Great Plaza and accepts his award. For someone who’s happiest becoming part of the scenery, it’s an uncomfortable position to be in.

Well, we’ve known and admired our fellow photographer for several years. In fact, it’s very likely that we’ll be there to record his special moment. So here’s to you, Tom, and let us offer this advice: Just smile and say “Cheese.”

News, People

Honoring the Inspirational Irish Women of 2011

Honorees Carmel Boyce, Anne McDade Keyser Hill and Karen Boyce McCollum

Honorees Carmel Boyce, Anne McDade Keyser Hill and Karen Boyce McCollum

It’s not for nothing that they’ve earned the description, “inspirational.”

The 12 recipients of the 2011 Inspirational Irish Women awards are really quite remarkable, accomplished people, coming from all walks of life—the judiciary, law enforcement, music, religious orders, fire and rescue, nursing, business, broadcasting and more.

The honorees were:

  • Sister Christine McCann
  • Margaret Reyes
  • The Honorable Pamela Pryor Dembe
  • Kathy Fanning
  • Anne McDade Keyser Hill
  • Mary Ann McGinley, Ph.D., R.N.
  • Kathy O’Connell
  • Carmel Boyce
  • Karen Boyce McCollum
  • Christine M. Coulter
  • Liz Crehan Anderson
  • Sister Peg Hynes, S.S.J.

(To read more about them, click here.)

For all their accomplishments, they remain quite humble—and more, as they accepted their awards in a special ceremony Sunday afternoon at the Philadelphia Irish Center, all credited the key people in their lives who helped guide them along the paths they ultimately followed.

Speaking of her parents Barney and 2011 honoree Carmel Boyce, communications executive and singer Karen Boyce McCollum thanked her parents for “bringing us up in a household where growing up Irish was a blessing and the greatest gift they could give.”

Businesswoman Anne McDade Keyser Hill, her voice quavering just a bit, thanked her husband Joe for his loving support. (And he blew a kiss back at her.) But she also recalled the strong influence of her father in her life: “My dad, when I was 14 or 15 years old, took me aside and he said, ‘Sis’—he called me ‘Sis’—don’t let anyone ever tell you that you can’t do what you want in your life because you’re a girl.”

The highly regarded nurse leader Mary Ann McGinley spoke lovingly of her own parents and credited them for setting a good example: “My dad clearly inherited the Irish talent of telling stories. My mom was a ‘Type E’ personality—everything for everybody each and every day.”

And, finally, WXPN Kids Corner host Kathy O’Connell recalled one exceptional woman in her life: “I want to dedicate this award to my grandmother, who became a widow 10 seconds before the Depression hit.”

Attending the event were more than 400 family members, friends and co-workers who attended the ceremony, who cheered and applauded as each woman (and representatives of two women who were honored posthumously, social activist Sister Peg Hynes and musician Liz Crehan Anderson) accepted her award. They also had a chance to admire the striking black-and-white portraits of the honorees, created by photographer Brian Mengini and commissioned by the Inspirational Irish Women committee.

In addition to honoring women of high achievement, the awards program benefited the Philadelphia Irish Center.

We’ve assembled an extensive photo essay from the day. We also present video highlights.

Music, People

Heading to the All-Irelands

Keegan Loesel, left, and Alexander Weir: Headed to the Fleadh

The table in front of the musicians is crowded with pint glasses in various shades of beer and tenses of the word, “drink.” But the youngest musicians at the Sunday session at Philadelphia’s The Plough and the Stars pub aren’t imbibing. After all, fiddler Alex Weir is only 12, tin whistle player and piper, Keegan Loesel is 11, and little Emily Safko, barely bigger than her Irish harp, is 9.

Still, they spend so much time playing in bars, Emily’s mother Amy says that when her third grader assembled a poster for her “spotlight” day at Cranberry Pines Elementary School in Medford, NJ, “it was full of pictures of her in pubs.”

Of course, they’re Irish pubs which are usually family friendly and the weekly sessions–well, think of them as free music lessons. Sessions (seisiuns, in Irish) have long been a traditional way for Irish traditional players to jam informally and maybe learn a new technique or a tune or two, often in the dark corner of a pub or a cottage kitchen.

There’s little tolerance for the novice player at most sessions, and although one adult musician at the Sunday session refers to the three as “the leprechauns,” he says it respectfully. These “leprechauns” are solid trad musicians who are all going to Ireland in August—one for the second time—to compete in the All-Ireland Fleadh Cheoil na hÉireann in Cavan Town.

Alex Weir, of West Chester, is a  fleadh veteran. He got his start on the violin as many American children do—with Suzuki, a method developed in Japan that puts tiny violins in the hands of children as young as three and nurtures them in a positive environment where they’re expected to pick up music as naturally as they acquire language. Pretty soon, the violin became a fiddle–Alex wanted to learn some Irish tunes to play accompaniment  for his dance school friends at Do Cairde School of Irish Dance in West Chester.   “Once he started learning the fiddle there was no turning back,” says Alex’s father, Carl.

For several years, Alex has been part of Next Generation, a group of young players organized by veteran Irish musicians Dennis Gormley, Kathy DeAngelo, and Chris Brennan-Hagy. They meet the second Sunday of every month for a session at the Philadelphia Irish Center and have performed at the Garden State Discovery Museum, the Philadelphia Ceili Group Traditional Irish Music and Dance Festival, and the Celtic River Festival in Gloucester, NJ, among other venues. The group has produced another veteran fleadh competitor—9-year-old Haley Richardson from Pittsgrove, NJ, who has been playing fiddle since she was three.

Alex, who  continues to study classical violin, is an Irish music sophisticate: He doesn’t just play Irish tunes on the fiddle, he plays “Sligo-style,” like his teacher, Brian Conway of New York. Sligo style is brisk and elaborate—featuring what’s called ornamentation (trills, slides, and extra notes) with both left and right hands. It’s the lively, toe-tapping, uplifting style that most Americans associate with Irish music. “It picks you up,” says Alex, during a lull in the Sunday session. “I feel happy all the time when I play it.” Competing in this year’s Comhaltas Ceoltori Eireann Mid-Atlantic Fleadh, he came in first in fiddle slow airs under 12, first in duets with Emily Safko, and second in fiddle under 12 (Haley Richardson took first in that category).

Keegan Loesel was only three when a CD his mom had popped into the car changed his life. “I picked out this noise I heard on the CD. I found out later it was a uilleann pipe [pronounced ill-in, a small, Irish bagpipe],” explains Keegan, a fifth grader at Hillendale Elementary School in Chadds Ford, PA. At three, he was barely bigger than a set of pipes, but he told his mom, “I want to do that.”

“I thought that would go away, but it didn’t,” says Keegan’s mother, Lynette. “Two years later, I emailed a pipe maker to find out how to get him started and they told me to get him a whistle.”

It wasn’t long before Keegan was taking lessons on both the pipes and the tin whistle. He got his first set of pipes in January. This is his first year qualifying for the All-Irelands on whistle—not bad for a kid who was so shy about performing in public that his sister offered him money to play a tune at a session. “He did it and as we were going out the door he turned to us and said, ‘When are we coming back?’” says Lynette. That’s when she knew he was hooked.

Like Keegan, Emily Safko got off to an early start—and with an instrument that really was bigger than she was. She comes from a musical household—her father, Greg, is a classically trained pianist—that isn’t very Irish, “I think I’m Irish, but we don’t really know,” says Amy, her mom. “I don’t know exactly where it came from, but she started asking for a harp when she was four. I think she’d seen a harpist at Longwood Gardens.”

Emily begs to differ. She says she was bitten by the harp bug at 3. She got her first Irish harp at the age of 6 and at 9, travelled to the Mid-Atlantic Fleadh in Parsnippany, NJ, and came in first in harp slow air under 12, first in duets (with Alex) and second place in harp under 12. Kathy DeAngelo is her teacher. Emily says she takes every opportunity to play. “I got to play the harp at my school in first grade, second grade, and third grade,” she says, her child’s harp leaning against her shoulder. She’s even becoming a regular at the Irish session at the Treehouse Café in Audubon, NJ. “It’s like practice for the fleadh,” she says.

Like getting to Carnegie Hall, as the old joke has it, making it to the fleadh takes practice, practice, practice. But it also takes fundraising, fundraising, fundraising.

Keegan and Alex have taken to the streets of West Chester where they employed that age-old Irish musician money-making technique—busking–a couple of weeks ago to the accompaniment of passing cars. They also have some more official events coming up:

On Sunday, June 5, starting at 5 PM, Alex and Keegan will be playing with teacher/performer Mary Kay Mann at the BBC Tavern and Grill at 4019 Kennett Pike, Greenville, DE. If you write IRELAND on your bill, the BBC Tavern will donate 10 percent of those purchases to the boys’ travel fund.

On Friday, June 3 and Friday, July 1, you can see the boys outside the Longwood Art Gallery, 200 East State Street, Kennett Square, during the First Friday Kennett Square Art Strolls.

On Saturday, July 23, they’ll be performing at the West Chester Growers Market from 9:30 to 11:30 AM at the corner of North Church and West Chestnut streets in downtown West Chester.

If you’d like to hold a benefit for any of these talented young musicians, email lymabusi@yahoo.com.

See our photos of all of the children here.