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Post by MourningIreland on Jun 8, 2017 15:58:28 GMT
Brexit day was literally one of the happiest days of my thirty-nine years. I don't think anything in public life has ever made me happier. I never believed it was possible. Yes, it was a great day for me too. To see God's hand actually moving in history is very humbling. I didn't think it could get much better, but then on 9 November 2016 I woke up to a headline on the Drudge Report that said "LET THE PEOPLE RULE."
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Post by dunsscotus on Jun 12, 2017 14:21:03 GMT
I have a love/hate relationship with the Irish language.
I grew up in Glasgow in a socio-cultural milieu unique to that city which—although being several generations removed from family born in Ireland—formed an identity in me that I see as Irish. Ethnically I'm Irish, nationally I'm Scottish, and thus an Irish-Scot, with the emphasis always on the former. And as a mere aside, having left Scotland the latter is now more a mere gloss to explain my accent. I grew up surrounded by the trappings of Irishness that one would find in many places in Ulster. The flags, the songs, the stories, the politics, the family dynamics, the religion, and the social stratification.
I remember at some point whilst still in primary school my grandmother gave me a Teach Yourself set on Scottish Gaelic. I don't remember exactly where the interest for the Celtic languages first developed, perhaps it was a natural progression from the tidbits I had gleaned from songs and stories and histories, but the Scottish Gaelic set was quickly set aside in pursuit of Irish textbooks and courses. I knew I should have been able to understand and be able to speak Irish. I wanted to be able to understand and speak Irish. And the texts and courses collected dust on my bookshelves.
Before getting married, my wife—an American of Irish heritage—and I decided we wanted to live in Ireland. So I packed a bag, jumped on a plane, and went to Galway. In choosing I had the Irish language are the forefront of my mind. We had narrowed our choice to either Galway or Donegal. Galway appeared to have better economic prospects. It was Ireland's great bilingual city. It was right on the doorstep of the Gaeltacht. Finally I'd be able to learn Irish. Maybe go to a few classes in the city, or take a jaunt down down to Cois Fharraige, or join one of the local conversation groups. I found work, a place to stay. Never seemed to find the time or the money to do any of those things. My wife ended up back in America during her pregnancy due to unfortunate circumstances with our landlords who kicked us out whilst she was in her first trimester, visiting her sister who was due to give birth in the States. Everything seemed to fall a part after that. I was on a ticking clock. I knew that I wouldn't have much longer left in Galway, the housing situation there is terrible or at least it was last year, and she was getting on further in her pregnancy. The reality we were looking at now was that she would have to give birth over there. Ireland would have to go on the back burner for a while. And I kept putting off leaving because I just had to learn Irish before I went. My son's three names are Irish, fadas and all. Sure he has to be able to speak Irish or it would just be silly for him to have such names! And I left Galway, rather broken hearted, with a mere spattering of tourist phrases as Gaeilge.
Now I'm in the states. When I left Galway I could only bring a few items with me. One of my Irish language textbooks was one of them. And it's collecting dust. Again.
I think the most Irish thing about myself is my approach to the Irish language. The absolute conviction that it is my language, that I should be able to speak it, and that there's some magical button or method that will facilitate it for me simply because, well, it's my language sure, just forgotten it right? My mind throws up a thousand little pitfalls every time I approach the language. "Do I really want to learn that dialect? Is this course any good? How can I really learn unless I'm taking room and board with some farmer out Wesht who'll say his rosary as Gaeilge with me and talk down to me at the dinner table as if I was a suckling babe learning his first words, which we all know is the only real way to learn a language?" I want to learn Irish, I need to learn Irish, yet I just can't bring my self to do it. Damned language.
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Post by Maolsheachlann on Jun 12, 2017 14:30:26 GMT
I'm feeling ya! Two Irish language schools and untold hours of Irish education, more recently I've read myself through a couple of bookshelves of Irish books, and still I couldn't write a sentence in the Irish language that was not littered with spelling mistakes.
There's a certain humility necessary, I think. It's hard going back to the level of a ten-year-old.
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