Headford News and Community Spotlight - More Than Just an Irish Pub

Hey – Did you hear about the HEADFEST CHARITY DOG SHOW? You won’t want to miss it.

Saturday August 23 in the square, Headford

Judging starts at 1 pm sharp

Great fun for all the family, including the dog.

Are the kids turning your hair grey? Then you might want to come check out the Family Support Service. North Galway Support Services are hosting a Parent Drop-In. If you’re having challenges with your children, feel free to drop in and have a chat with one of the Child & Family Agency Staff. They’ll be at Solas to help every Thursday from 9:30 am to 12:30 pm, starting 11 September.

COMMUNITY SPOTLIGHT 

Meitheal, circa 1920

No One Is Alone. That is the title of one of the most popular songs from the Stephen Sondheim musical Into The Woods. Its popularity might have to do with the message it conveys, which is also one of the main themes of the whole musical: No one is alone. Each individual has a responsibility to the community. It’s the truth behind the lyrics of the song that make it so poignant:

Sometimes people leave you
halfway through the wood.
Others may deceive you.
You decide what's good.
You decide alone.
But . . . no one is alone.

Of course, Sondheim didn’t invent this concept. Community support is something that’s been around since the beginning of time. Here in Ireland, it’s referred to as Meitheal, the ancient tradition of coming together for a common purpose, like harvesting crops or erecting buildings. Working together to ensure that all succeed in achieving their goal. For the Cherokee Indians, the word Gadugi means the same thing. In Finish, it’s Talkoot; in the Andes it’s Mink’a. Different words that mean the same thing. No one is alone.

This is an idea Willie Campbell, proprietor of Campbell’s Tavern in Cloughanover since 1998, feels strongly about. ‘We’re all educated to think of ourselves as individuals,’ Willie says, ‘but we’re not really, not completely.’

As a publican, Willie understands well both the theory and practise of the traditional—or community—pub. Campbell’s Tavern has had a long dynasty of owners whose surnames began with ‘C’: Creaven, Clare, Cunningham, Cunniffe, Coyne. Interesting that, since ‘C’ also stands for Community. Willie took over the tavern from his mom and dad and says that his family were always ‘nomadic pub owners,’ so it’s in the blood.

‘This isn’t a ‘Super Pub’,’ Willie says. By that he means it’s not a commercial pub that specialises in the youth market or sports or some other formulaic stereotype. ‘I have an affinity for the family-owned traditional Irish pub. It covers all the bases and provides an access point for people to meet their neighbours.’

But, Willie says, ‘The advent of technology means you can entertain yourself at home with a screen and a drink. And government policy encourages people to drink at home.’

With hyper-restrictive blood/alcohol limits and pub closing times that are even stricter than the curfews imposed on most 6-year-olds, Ireland has indeed become a ‘drink at home’ country. Consequently, if publicans like Willie want to stay in business, they have to offer a lot more than just a pint of the black stuff.

And that’s exactly what Campbell’s Tavern does, with an eclectic mix of music, including jazz, trad, acoustic, blues, even choirs and theatre. It’s a showplace for local musicians and artists, as well as those from further afield, a place for celebrations, weddings, and will soon be hosting several Headfest events.

‘We’re lucky to be surrounded by excellent musicians in this area,’ Willie says, ‘and we try to have music that meets a standard and covers a lot of genres. I try to run this pub the way I’d like a pub to be if I was gonna visit it.’

And that includes gently polite reminders of closing. ‘In some pubs,’ Willie says, ‘it’s like being herded out of a cattle trailer.’ Understandably, Willie feels strongly about this. ‘The law is very linear and you can’t cross it or you’re done. There’s no discretion in any aspect of law. We’ve become less than human and that’s allowed corruption to happen in the law before.’

The discretion he talks about has a lot to do with public officials or judges allowing personal opinion to enter into the legal decision process. Personal opinion and intuition can frequently lead to decisions that are wiser than those based on textbook formula alone. Of course, it can also tip the scales of justice to an unfair imbalance. Discretion is a complex subject matter, especially when directed at the rights and obligations of individuals. But at the heart of matter is the need to care about more than just ourselves.

‘We [each of us] have a responsibility to the community,’ Willie says. ‘We have to resist separating ourselves.’

Because, after all . . .

Headford News and Community Spotlight-The Job of a Rural Postman

Headford News is on holiday break this week so we're recycling a popular earlier post. Happy Summertime!


COMMUNITY SPOTLIGHT 

The Job of a Rural Postman

Mail Model

When Olly O’Connor first started delivering the post in the Headford area back in 1996, he probably didn’t imagine he’d still be delivering the post eighteen years later. Back then, the post office, now a derelict old building, was inside John Molloy’s house in Ower, and Olly had just one week to learn all 200 houses and names on his route.

His first day on the job, at the age of twenty, Olly says, ‘John Malloy showed me around, then I was pretty much on my own.’ Because there were no house numbers or specific addresses, Olly kept a small book with notes like, ‘so and so lives in the house with the green door.’ In one village, he says, there were seven families with the surname ‘Lee.’ So, if he had an envelope addressed to ‘Mr. Lee,’ it might take a bit of detective work to figure out where it should go.

Then, of course, there’s the dog issue. Postmen are forever getting bitten by dogs, and Olly is no exception. ‘But I’ve had my tetanus shot now,’ he says. He reckons dogs attack postmen because they come and go so quickly, ‘like robbers,’ which is ironic, since he’s leaving things instead of taking them away.

Today, Olly says, ‘It takes two weeks to train new [postal delivery] people.’ And Olly is a great role model, having trained several others on his own route. His day begins early, sorting letters and packages by area. Then he loads them all in his van and takes off. He has to stop and collect post from pick-up boxes at a precise time. Scanning the bar code on the green letter box at 9:59 a.m. instead of 10:00 will bring a call and a complaint from his supervisor.

Most days, Olly’s job is a race against the clock. He’s got to bring the post back to Headford in time for the 3:45 p.m. pick up. If he doesn’t get deliveries to all the houses on his route done first, then he has to drive back out into the countryside and deliver the rest of the post.

Just after the turn of the century, in about 2000, greed engendered by the Celtic Tiger became widely apparent in the area. New houses popped up like mushrooms, creating the flood plains we now have in the countryside surrounding Headford. By 2004, the rural post office in Ower was moved to Headford, and Olly’s job became even more complex. Today, there are 417 houses and three schools on his route.

Olly says the best part of his job is getting to listen to whatever radio channel he wants while he’s working, and changing the channel as much as he wants. ‘If I was in a factory or something, I’d have to listen to whatever someone else wanted.’ As you might imagine, he gets a lot of alone time in that green van, so if you see him rockin’ out when he drives by, he’s probably listening to some good tunes. But if he sees you on the road, he always waves and will even stop and hand you your post through the car window.

The worst part of his job is a wet day.

‘Why?’ I ask.

‘Because no one wants a wet letter.’

Which brings up the inevitable topic of weather, and I have to ask him if that old postman’s creed it true. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds, was originally a quote from an ancient Greek named Herodotus (circa 500 BCE) who was describing the Persian system of mounted postal carriers. Olly tells me that’s still the case, the post must be delivered regardless of weather. In 2010, when there was ice everywhere and we were all warned to stay home, Olly was out delivering our post. Christmas time, however, is the real challenge. Every year. ‘There’s loads to be done,’ Olly says, ‘and you’re under pressure to get it all done before dark (because of the short days).’

Olly loves to travel, but not necessarily up the one kilometre driveway of one of the houses where he has to deliver the post. ‘I dread when that guy gets a letter,’ he quips. He’s been to the beach in Key West, Florida; tangoed in Cuba; been tossed around on a small fishing boat in the Atlantic off the coast of Valencia, Spain,; over a month in Argentina; been to London, Yorkshire, Leeds and done the Jack-the-Ripper tour; visited what was left of the Berlin wall; Lourdes, France; Munich; floated down a canal in Holland; visited Edinburgh Castle; Belgium; Portugal; the Dominican Republic; didn’t gamble in Las Vegas (but did enjoy the beer); and would not recommend Rio de Janeiro (‘capitals aren’t great places to go’).

When I ask Olly what he’d like people to know about his job, he has to think about it. Finally, he says, ‘A lot of people like to talk about the weather and then we got to make up the time.’ So if he seems like he’s in a hurry to get away from you, don’t take it personally. He’s just doing his job. And it’s also good to keep in mind that, unlike a courier service, an An Post employee, like Olly, has to hand you your package, or leave it for you at the Post Office. That package won’t be left with an unknown neighbour or dropped-kicked to your door. All the more reason to appreciate our local postman.

Headford News & Community Spotlight - Goddess of the (Headford) Kitchen

SAVE THE DATE! Sunday September 14th 2014 is the Solas Family Resource Centre Annual Dance. It will be at the McWilliam Park Hotel in Claremorris and tickets are available now at Solas for only €10. Music will be by TR Dallas (from 5 ot 8 pm) and Showbud (from 9 to 11:30 pm). Everyone who is anyone will be there (maybe even Garth Brooks - it could happen), so get your tickets quick, before they're all gone!


COMMUNITY SPOTLIGHT

Demeter

Remember Demeter? Oh, sure you do. She was the Greek goddess of the earth, agriculture, the harvest and fertility. Her daughter, Persephone got all the good press, but it was Demeter who was responsible for bountiful crops of grain, for keeping people fed and happy. Mostly known as a ‘mothering’ goddess, she was nurturing and care-giving. In short, she’s a rather overlooked heroine.

Fast forward a few millennia and half a continent west to Headford and you’ll find a modern-day Demeter. Mary Mahon keeps people fed and happy in a number of different ways.

On a muggy Thursday in July, she’s been spending the day in a hot kitchen making four cheesecakes and two pies for a 25^th wedding anniversary. She has a bit of a catering business, cooking for parties, anniversaries and pretty much any social event throughout the year.

Mary Mahon

‘It’s therapeutic,’ Mary says. She illustrates her point by offering a slice of delicious apple tart and telling me about her Christmas parties which are ‘famous.’ Her kitchen is about the size of a third world country, and it would need to be. Last year, she made food for sixty neighbours and friends who attended the annual Christmas gala at her house.

Mary’s nurturing nature gets even more of a workout each Wednesday and Friday. As a participant in the Rural Social Scheme, she delivers meals on wheels all around the Headford area countryside.

Cooking and food have always been a part of Mary’s nature. Growing up in Rossaveal, she was one of seven children. Her mom taught her to cook and she says she’s been catering since a young age. ‘It made me feel like a little mother, I guess.’ After attending catering college, she worked in hotel kitchens, honing her skills. Then, in 1986, she met her husband, Gerry, in Salt Hill. It should probably come as no surprise that their three children love to cook, too.

Mary, Bonnie and the Minx

But it isn’t all about food at the Mahon house. Mary and Gerry are both rabid vintage rally participants and members of the Shrule and District Vintage Club. Proud of their vintage green 1966 Hillman Minx, they’ve driven it to rallies all over Ireland, and even England. When she’s not cooking or driving old cars, Mary says she walks Knock Ma in the evenings ‘to switch off,’ and she positively adores country/western dancing.

When Mary talks about her life-long dream, it draws another connection to Demeter. In addition to being responsible for bountiful harvests, this particular Greek goddess was perceived to truly empathize with the human experience . . .

‘I’d love to have a little pub,’ Mary says. ‘It’s always been my dream. I like to listen to people’s stories.’ 

If she ever does get that pub, no doubt it will be a great success! 

Headford News and Community Spotlight - Lighting up Local Legend

COMMUNITY SPOTLIGHT 

For those who are visiting Headford this summer, and for those who live here but want to find out more about local legend, this week’s Community Spotlight will shine on an area landmark with an enigmatic past. The Ballycurrin Lighthouse.

Ballycurrin Lighthouse

It’s something most of us around here take for granted, but did you know there’s a fascinating collection of stories behind this 18^th Century lighthouse? Situated at the edge of the Galway/Mayo border, it’s a lovely hidden wonder. So hidden, in fact, that when William Wilde, Oscar Wilde’s daddy, wrote his extensive account of the area (Wilde’s Lough Corrib), he sailed right by the lighthouse and didn’t even remark on it.

Said to be the only inshore lighthouse of its kind in Europe, with a roof made out of a mill wheel (now there’s an interesting architectural choice), the Ballycurrin Lighthouse was built in 1772 by a member of the Lynch tribe. Which Lynch, though, is a matter of debate.

First, there’s the claim that Liam Lynch, a local landlord, built the lighthouse. But, the boathouse beside the lighthouse has a stone engraved with ‘Erected by Henry Lynch, Esq. A.D. 1772,’ so that supports the story about Sir Henry building the lighthouse as a marker for the Galway to Cong ferry. Timber was burned in the uppermost portion of the lighthouse to create the light that would guide the ferry to Lynch to deliver his provisions. Sir Henry was a 7^th ‘Baronet,’ an inherited title which meant that, technically, he was gentry, but literally, he had not been knighted or even received any kind of accolade. He was just a guy whose great-grandda owned a big house. This might be why he was more often referred to as ‘Harry.’

Another story involves Sir Henry’s wife. The polite version is that she had the lighthouse built so he could find his way home at night, since he was fond of visiting the pubs in Galway and Cong. In this version, Sir Henry’s wife has no name or identity of her own, poor creature.

However, in another version of the story, Sir Henry’s mistress is named. Sibella Cottle, the mother of seven of Henry’s illegitimate children, might have built the thing. She was reputed to use ‘witchcraft’ to spellbind Sir Henry to her for life. 

Oh, those wacky Georgians . . .

Headford News and Community Spotlight - A Stubbornly Persistent Illusion

Did you know that Solas offers a telephone 'Befriending' service? If you or someone you know lives alone or feels isolated and would like a 'friend' to ring once a week for a chat, please call and let us know. Our volunteers are happy to help!


COMMUNITY SPOTLIGHT

Upon learning of the death of a lifelong friend, Albert Einstein wrote in a March 1955 letter to his friend’s family:

“Now he has departed from this strange world a little ahead of me. That means nothing. People like us, who believe in physics, know that the distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.”

For many people, that illusion of past and present offers a soothing familiarity, a way to place ourselves in the continuum of life. For instance, when you pick up your great grandma’s old 19^th century tea pot, you get a whole different feeling than when you use your white plastic Dunnes kettle. Antique objects—pieces of the past—stand in stark contrast to the homogeneity of the mass-produced present. They can act as a sort of balm for the spirit, helping us feel connected to those who came before.

If there’s anyone who understands this concept well, it’s Karen Hughes. Karen brought her mother-in-law, Rosie’s legacy with her all the way from Liverpool to Headford, when she recently opened up the aptly named Rosie’s Antiques on Main Street.

The new shop is located in the old Solas office, which has gotten a complete face lift and looks positively gorgeous! As you enter the shop, a large table dominates the centre, filled with colourful, sparkling and tasteful objects, and a candle scented like ‘Fireside Treats.’ 

Everything is awash in peaceful, pastel colours and light pours through the windows and bounces off cut-glass vases, bottles and glasses. It’s little wonder few people pass the shop without stopping in.

Karen is a lovely woman with dark hair and a creamy complexion who refused to have her photograph taken, so you’ll just have to imagine what she looks like.

The shop is an eclectic mix of what Karen calls a ‘mish-mash of nick-knacks,’ and beautiful antiques. Prices range from as low as Two Euros to as high as Four Hundred Euros.

‘I didn’t want it to be one of those dusty, old antiques places,’ she says. You know—the kind that smell funny and seem overly dark. So that’s why there’s a mixture of old and new, past and present.

Karen shows me a piece she’s particularly proud of. A 19^th century set of three beautiful crystal decanters in a wooden holder that has a lock and key. ‘Most people ask why there’s a key on this,’ she says. My response was that it must have been used to keep the liquor locked up so the servants couldn’t drink it. Karen tells me I’m right, but in fact, I’m not.

It’s called a tantalus, named after one of Zeus’s sons who got in trouble and was then ‘tantalized’ by food and drink he was not allowed to consume. While the wooden frame on this piece would have been locked with a key, it was more for show than to actually protect the liquor from servants. Most self-respecting butlers in the great aristocratic houses would never have considered pilfering from the master’s liquor supply. If such pilferage had been a problem, why was a solution not found until well into the reign of Queen Victoria? And why create a device that would only protect a few decanters, while the bulk of the household liquor supply was kept in the cellars, to which the butler held the key? The more likely scenario is that the tantalus was just one of many novelty devices which were popular with the expanding and increasingly affluent middle class of the last half of the nineteenth century. Having grown up with few, if any, household servants themselves, they could believe they were imitating their betters by “protecting” their few decanters of expensive liquors in a tantalus.

When Karen and her husband moved here from Liverpool last year, her mother-in-law, Rosie, had recently passed away. They chose this area because her great-grandfather was from Galway and she and her husband were used to coming to Ireland for holidays. Just a few months ago, they found a house in Ower and everything fell into place.

‘I used to teach special needs kids and I knew I needed to do something,’ Karen says. ‘I’ve always been fascinated with anything old, anything with a history.’

The shop has old dressers filled with blue and white patterned dishes and fun objects. A hand-beaded wall hanging is draped across one cheerfully-painted kitchen dresser. A prayer mat from Alaan in the Middle East hangs on one wall. There are handmade lap quilts from the U.S. and a dazzling variety of lamps and broaches.

Karen hopes people will ‘feel free to pop in and browse around. You don’t have to buy anything. I enjoy getting to know people.’

Perhaps the one piece in the store that gets the most attention is the old milk churn. ‘Older people come in just to look at it and say, I remember when . . .,’ Karen says. ‘I love to hear all their stories. Even looking at the old mirrors makes people remember things.’

Einstein would probably say that’s appropriate—that illusions of the past should be reflected in this shop in the present.