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  The Information about Ireland Site Newsletter 
                  December 2007
 
The Newsletter for people interested in Ireland 
 Now received by over 50,000 people worldwide 
      https://www.ireland-information.com 
          https://www.irishnation.com
              Copyright (C) 2007  

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		IN THIS ISSUE
=== Foreword
=== News Snaps from Ireland 
=== New free resources at the site
=== Irish Christmas Traditions
=== Hillside 		  by Jeremiah J. Shea
=== What a View	 	  by William Wasson
=== What a Lovely Country	  by Merle Dens-Griffin
=== BallyGlen's Gift	  by Bree T. Donovan
=== 1911 Census of Ireland now online
=== Gaelic Phrases of the Month
=== Monthly free competition result

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FOREWORD
========

Hello again from Ireland where the Christmas 
shopping spree is in full swing. The Irish economy 
is supposed to be cooling but you would not think 
so judging by the packed shopping malls all around 
the country.

Many thanks to all of our contributors this month 
and especially to Bree Donovan who has given us a 
Christmas story for you to enjoy  - why not print 
it out and read it at your leisure!

Don't forget you can send a free 'Dancing Irish 
Santa' Christmas Card by email here:

https://www.ireland-information.com/heraldichall/postcard.htm

Please DO send us in your stories, poems or 
articles about Ireland for the next edition 
- we love including reader contributions,

until 2008!

Michael

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NEWS SNAPS FROM IRELAND
=======================
 
IRISH PROPERTY PRICES CONTINUE TO FALL

The trend of falling property prices that has hit 
the US and Britain has not left Ireland untouched. 
Prices have continued to fall since the middle of 
2006 which many commentators are now citing as the 
peak of the Irish property miracle. 

Overall prices are down somewhere between 4 and 10% 
depending on which price gauge you use. Losses of 
15% to 20% are expected in some housing categories 
though as an oversupply in suburban housing 
estates and some apartment buildings is keeping 
prices down. Dublin prices have fallen less than 
other locations.

Builders have been quick to react. As many as 70 
to 80 thousand housing units were completed 
annually over the last few years. This is expected 
to drop dramatically in 2007, possibly by as much 
as 50%! It is speculated that many builders are 
biding their time while the excess volume flushes 
through the system. With immigration into the 
country still high and unemployment at all-time 
lows their is still a need for an estimated 
60,000+ housing units annually.

There is no sign of a complete crash though, 
as prices have merely fallen back to 2005 levels, 
with early 2006 remembered as being a 
particularly exuberant time in the market.

BUDGET 2007 ANNOUNCED

The latest annual government budget has been 
announced by Finance Minister Brian Cowen. 
The main measures include:

* Reform of stamp duty on property purchase
* Modest increase in personal tax allowances
* New tax on high-emission cars
* Reduction in tax on ATM and credit cards

IRELAND RANKED NINTH IN LIVING STANDARDS

Conflicting reports of the high standard of living 
in Ireland during recent years have been 
highlighted by a new report from the OECD which 
lists Ireland in ninth place in the EU. Prices and 
economic output are taken into account by the OECD 
when arriving at their conclusions.

FAMOUS WATERFORD CRYSTAL TO SHED JOBS

The problems with the Waterford company that 
controls the famous Waterford Crystal factory 
continue. The high value of the Euro when compared 
to the US dollar has finally taken its toll on the 
ailing business which is set to shed early half 
its Irish workforce. 490 jobs will be lost in the 
glass factory which is one of the most visited 
tourist attractions in the country. High labour 
costs are cited as another reason why much of the 
high-end crystal production is being moved abroad.

OLDER TAXIS TO BE BANNED

The winds of change continue to blow through the 
Irish taxi business. Still smarting from the 
deregulation of the industry (which opened up the 
business to just about anyone with 5000 Euro and 
a car!), new regulations are being introduced to 
force older vehicles off the streets. All taxis 
over 9 years of age will be banned from 2008 
onwards. All taxis will also be forced to carry 
fire extinguishers, first aid kits and a torch. 
Further subsidies for wheelchair accessible taxis 
are likely to be made available being, up to 40% 
of the total purchase price.

HUNGOVER DRIVERS TO BE BREATHALAYSED

The continuing campaign against drink driving in 
this country is being taken to levels. Random 
breath-testing has already been introduced with 
Gardai being free to instruct any driver to give 
a breath sample, regardless of whether that 
driver is thought to be drunk.

These random tests are now being extended to 
early morning drivers who may still be over the 
limit from the night before.

GUINNESS FACTORY ROBBED

A thief has made off with over 40,000 pints from 
the Guinness factory at St. James Gate in Dublin. 
The daring raid was not very hi-tech with the 
resolute thief simply driving a truck into the 
factory, hitching up a fully laden trailer to the 
back and driving out the gates with load 
containing 450 kegs of beer. The empty trailer 
was later discovered in County Meath.

OFF-LICENCE SALES CONTINUE TO SOAR

Sales of beer, wine and spirits for off-licences 
have overtaken the amount sold directly in pubs 
for the first time. In 2001 70% of all alcohol 
was sold directly over a bar. Figures just 
released show that that number has plummeted to 
48% in 2007. The smoking ban in pubs was the 
catalyst for change, together with much more 
rigid enforcement of the drink driving laws and 
the high taxation of alcohol. Al of these factors 
have combined to make the Irish pub experience 
much less attractive than it once was. Wine 
accounts for 22% of the market, up from 8% a 
decade ago while the sale of beer has dropped 
from 70% to 50% of the overall market.

IRISH SOCCER SEARCH CONTINUES

The Irish international team is still managerless 
as the search for a successor to Steve Staunton 
continues. Paul Jewell was sounded out but took 
up a job in the English Premiership instead. Now 
the focus has turned to Terry Venables who is 
without a job after England failed to qualify for 
Euro 2008.

A revamp of the old 'home internationals' looks 
likely in the form of a biennial 'Celtic Cup' 
competition between Ireland, Scotland, N. Ireland 
and Wales. England are unlikely to take part.


Voice your opinion on these news issues here:

https://www.ireland-information.com/newsletterboard/wwwboard.html

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NEW FREE RESOURCES AT THE SITE
==============================

NEW COATS OF ARMS ADDED TO THE GALLERY:

The following 5 coats of arms images and family
history details have been added to the Gallery:

A: Alway, Ashe
N: Nash, Nixon
W: Walton

View the Gallery here:

http://www.irishsurnames.com/coatsofarms/gm.htm

THE PERFECT WEDDING, ANNIVERSARY OR BIRTHDAY GIFT!
We now have over 100,000 worldwide names available.
Get the Coat of Arms Print, Claddagh Ring,
Screensaver, Watch, T-Shirt Transfer or Clock for
your name at:

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IRISH CHRISTMAS TRADITIONS
==========================

Ireland, like most countries, has a number of 
Christmas traditions that are all of its own. Many 
of these customs have their root in the time when 
the Gaelic culture and religion of the country 
were being suppressed and it is perhaps because of 
this they have survived into modern times.

THE CANDLE IN THE WINDOW

The placing of a lighted candle in the window of a 
house on Christmas eve is still practised today. It 
has a number of purposes but primarily it was a 
symbol of welcome to Mary and Joseph as they 
travelled looking for shelter.

The candle also indicated a safe place for priests 
to perform mass as, during Penal Times this was 
not allowed.

A further element of the tradition is that the 
candle should be lit by the youngest member of 
the household and only be extinguished by a girl 
bearing the name 'Mary'.

THE LADEN TABLE

After evening meal on Christmas eve the kitchen 
table was again set and on it were placed a loaf 
of bread filled with caraway seeds and raisins, 
a pitcher of milk and a large lit candle. The door 
to the house was left unlatched so that Mary and 
Joseph, or any wandering traveller, could avail of
the welcome.

THE WREN BOY PROCESSION

During Penal Times there was once a plot in a 
village against the local soldiers. They were 
surrounded and were about to be ambushed when a 
group of wrens pecked on their drums and
awakened the soldiers. The plot failed and the 
wren became known as 'The Devil's bird'.

On St. Stephens day a procession takes place where 
a pole with a holly bush is carried from house to 
house and families dress up in old clothes and with 
blackened faces.In olden times an actual wren would 
be killed and placed on top of the pole.

This custom has to a large degree disappeared but 
the tradition of visiting from house to house on 
St. Stephens Day has survived and is very much part 
of Christmas.

DECORATIONS:

The placing of a ring of Holly on doors originated 
in Ireland as Holly was one of the main plants 
that flourished at Christmas time and which gave 
the poor ample means with which to decorate their 
dwellings.

All decorations are traditionally taken down on 
Little Christmas (January 6th.) and it is 
considered to be bad luck to take them down 
beforehand.

TRADITIONAL GAELIC SALUTATION

The Gaelic greeting for 'Merry Christmas' is:
'Nollaig Shona Duit'
......which is pronounced as 'null-ig hun-a dwit'.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS!

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where you can get great Irish gifts, prints, 
claddagh jewellery, engraved glassware and 
much more.

Anne MacDonald ordered a family crest plaque:

 Hello, Michael,

 Received my plaque, carefully wrapped, 
 in good order. It is splendid! I am 
 thrilled, and I know that my dad, for whose 
 81st birthday this was ordered, will love 
 it. I would like to order another one! 

 Everyone who has seen the plaque has been 
 really impressed, even those who, as my 
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 Again, my hearty thanks for this 
 first-class product.

 Best wishes for happy holiday season.

 Sincerely, Anne MacDonald

THE PERFECT WEDDING OR ANNIVERSARY GIFT!

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HILLSIDE		  by Jeremiah J. Shea
========

There's a hillside back in Erin,
Stretching high above the bay,
Where the sunset turns the heather
Into gold at close of day.
Peace is there when twilight lingers
And the valley down below
Seems a far off faerie playland
With the cottage lamps aglow.
 
Comes the moon through heaven's curtain
Sailing high and clear and bright,
With a host of stars aglitter,
Bringing beauty to the night ,
And the ancient ivied castle
Seems as full of life as yore
With the moon exchanging shadows
For her partners on the floor.
 
There the cares of life are little
On the hillside o'er the bay,
There the soul of man is grateful,
At the closing of a day
For the peace that comes too seldom.
It is there that I would be,
And if I should fly tomorrow
I would take you all with me!

Jeremiah J. Shea

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WHAT A VIEW		by William Wasson
===========

Everyplace is Ireland
when it lives in your heart,  
though I have only seen it
through my Mom`s eyes. 
*But what a view it was and still is*
It makes my soul both laugh and cry.
~
If I haven't set foot on Irish sod
by the time I lie on my death bed,
my last request will be
to fly me to County Kerry
and  bury me on the hill 
overlooking Kerry Bay,
where as a child
my Mom used to play.
~
There I can rest like the mystic fog
that covers everything in sight
and be a part of the fairy tales
folklore and fantasies
of the night.
~
I shall sleep with the angels
with one eye open and one eye closed.
My life and death will be complete
and I shall not worry about eternity
while Heaven itself,
lies at my feet.
 
William Wasson

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https://www.irishnation.com

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WHAT A LOVELY COUNTRY	by Merle Dens-Griffin
=====================

No one told me about the Midgies. Ouch!! I drove 
up to a B and B about 10 miles out of Killarney 
and was attacked. Their poor dogs eyes were 
bitten to pieces. Poor dog. Anyway, other than 
that we so enjoyed our 2 week visit to Ireland.  
We toured for 2 weeks, vising Killarney, while 
all the motorcycles in Europe were there.  

The Dingle peninsula was so nice, we stayed on 
a farm one night, and the people were wonderful.
The breakfasts were amazing. The history is so 
interesting going back a thousand years. The 
stone buildings were architectural wonders, as a 
builder, I cant imagine building one, and have 
it not leaking. On to the cliffs of Moher, and 
then on to Galway. What a wonderful town, and 
of course so enjoyed the Griffen Bakery, who 
makes bread for offshore islands. 

Would love to live in Ireland for a while, but 
the Euro and driving on the wrong side of the 
road make it tough.  Would need a local chauffeur. 
My granddaughters loved the National Stud. 
Watching the glass cutters in Waterford was a 
great experience. How they can do that freehand 
is beyond my comprehension. Then on to Dublin 
town to the Tower Pub and Trinity College. All 
dreams come true. 

We drove the back roads of Ireland and visited 
off the path Pubs and restaurants just to get 
out of the tourist mode. We walked some ancient 
battlefields and visited old Abbeys. Will try to 
make it back again someday 
- what a lovely country.

Merle Dens-Griffin

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where you can get great Irish gifts, prints, 
claddagh jewellery, engraved glassware and 
much more.

Wendy Walker of Columbia, Missouri got a
family crest signet ring with the Donnelly family 
crest engraved on it for her son

 Michael,
 I received by registered mail today the ring I 
 ordered for my son with the Donnelly family crest.

 I am very impressed and thrilled with the ring. 
 It is beautiful and the service I received 
 throughout the whole process of ordering and 
 receiving this unique gift has been superb. Thank 
 you for all your assistance and prompt responses 
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 Thank you

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THE PERFECT WEDDING, ANNIVERSARY OR BIRTHDAY GIFT!

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BALLYGLEN'S GIFT	by Bree T. Donovan
================

Bree Donovan is an author, poet and storyteller. 
She welcomes any feedback: 

blueiris2u@yahoo.com


BallyGlen's Gift
For J.S. and S.P. friends forever.

'Running spikes,' Dylan pronounced in his 
mysterious accent and nodding his blonde head.
'Pardon me, Mr. Byrne?' Sister Augusta clutched 
at the hefty silver crucifix suspended from her 
neck as if Dylan were a vampire she was trying 
to ward off. 

It was early November, and sister thought it 
necessary for us to decide upon a Christmas gift 
that was not merely a 'selfish desire of our 
mortal hearts, but one that would glorify Christ.' 
In other words, I gathered, she was asking the 
impossible. What could we expect to find under 
the tree that would be good for us and God? I 
hardly thought my burning desire for Scalextric 
cars would do much in the way of peace on earth, 
but I'd be infinitely happy.

I turned to look at my best friend Dylan, or 
'Lan' as he was known, and wondered if being 
half Russian was the reason for his strong will. 
He always spoke his mind, no matter who was on 
the other end of the conversation. I'm sure if 
the Pope himself had asked Dylan the same 
question, my friend's answer would not have 
changed. And his face would have still possessed 
that infernal, mischievous smile to boot!

Dylan dialed up the volume a notch in case the 
ole gal was having trouble registering his 
response. 

'I said running...'
'I heard you, Mr. Byrne. I'm simply astounded 
by your ignorance.'
'Oh no, Sister. I understand the question 
completely.' The smile remained. 

The rest of my fellow eleven-year-old classmates 
were too afraid to look up. Sister was about to 
impart her particular brand of wisdom, which 
usually involved a quivering, open palm and a 
wooden ruler, on Dylan.

'And you believe your request for…running shoes..'
'Spikes.'
'Would glorify our blessed saviour?'
'Yes, sister.'

I stole a glance at Sister Augusta who had an 
itchy trigger finger like one of the gun slingers 
in the American Westerns we sometimes watched at 
the cinema on Saturday afternoons. 
'Well, I'm pretty spot on with my running, Sister. 
And I love to do it. So, I figure, if it's what I 
do best, and what I love, that would make Christ 
happy, since I'd be making good use of my God 
given ability. Isn't that what you meant?'

You could have heard a pin drop in that drafty 
November classroom. All eyes were now glued to 
Sister Augusta's face. Her eyes were like two 
pointy black darts aimed at Dylan who looked as 
innocent as a cherub. He was, after all, speaking 
the truth. 

Sister abruptly turned around and strode to the 
blackboard. 
'You will all write an essay on the importance 
of keeping Christ in Christmas.'

I looked again to Dylan. When our eyes met this 
time, neither one of us could stifle the giggles 
that so often betrayed our efforts to behave. 

'Mr. O'Keeffe', Sister thrust her arm towards 
me, and then aimed her sights on Dylan, 
'Mr. Byrne, to your corners, please.' 

With one last snigger we took to the east and 
west of the room respectively, standing and 
facing the dingy wall until lunch time. 
We were brothers that way. 

Now I knew what I must do. I had to find the 
means to get Dylan his treasured running spikes 
for Christmas. The year was 1962 in our small 
coastal village of BallyGlen, County Donegal, 
and I had my mission.

~~~

This story is continued in the online 
edition of this newsletter:


https://www.ireland-information.com/dec07.htm#story


A-O-L USERS GO HERE





  




We all knew how much Dylan loved to run. By 'we', I mean our entire village. We knew this because he ran no matter if rain was blowing in sideways from the great Atlantic, or if the sun was beaming through a cloudless July sky, or if the golden moon embedded in the starry heaven was the only source of light for the hilly terrain Dylan traversed.


Yes, oftentimes he would climb out of his bedroom window while his parents believed him to be asleep. It was as if some siren of the hills was beckoning to him, and he had to make his way as quickly as possible to answer her call. But Dylan was too strong a character to be held captive by any force other than his own free will. And it was by his own free will that he ran. At age eleven he wasn't one of the tall, lanky boys. Dylan was a slight lad really, but his spindly legs propelled his small frame much like a miniature locomotive. It was with that kind of force and power Dylan ran. Those who may have doubted his ability were soon true believers in 'the little boy that could run.' Because he did. Dylan could outrun any kid in Donegal. Both he and I were sure that someday he would outrun any man in the world.



'Hey Jimmy, hurry it up!' Dylan was yelling for me outside our home.
 
	'Lan, dear, would ya like to come inside and have some tea while ya wait for James.' 

	My mam was at the door in an ill-fated attempt to lasso the wind.

	'Oh no thanks, Mrs. O'Keefe. I've had my breakfast.' 

	I took a peak out the window just long enough to catch Dylan flashing my mam his sly grin.

	'Ya could still give me a few seconds to have mine then!' I called down to him.

	'James O'Keefe, close that window. I've got the fire stoked against the chill,' mam ordered. 'And stop screeching out of windows as if I taught ya no manners at all!' 


	I almost knocked over a lamp in my hurried attempt to gather my books. I hoped my mother wouldn't notice my wet hair. I'd gotten caught in the early morning rain. How had Dylan managed to have his dried and neatly combed? I knew full well he must have been out running no more than an hour before. I grabbed two slices of toast, juggled my books, and almost made it past my younger sisters without comment-almost.


	'Jimmy, where were ya this morning?'  Iona spoke loud enough so that my mam would hear. 

	I bit into the slightly burned bread to give myself a moment to create a defense if necessary. But the combination of the restless Dylan at the door, and my other sister feeding the dog from the table, rendered Iona's question insignificant to my preoccupied mother. 

	'Off with ya now.' She kissed me on my head, not even registering the damp hair - except to offer me a wool cap. 

	'Have a good day, boys.'

	'You too, Mrs.O'Keefe.' Dylan waved with one arm, whilst pulling me outside with the other. 

	I continued to chew my rushed breakfast, wishing for some tea to wash it down. 

	'Have a look at these!' Dylan pulled a picture that was torn from a mail order catalogue.
 He pointed at a pair of scarlet red running spikes. 'Aren't these smashing?' 

	I gulped one last piece of dry bread seeing the price of two whole pounds listed underneath the picture.
 
	'What's the matter?' Dylan slowed his pace slightly. 

	'Nothing.'

	His dark eyes probed mine suspiciously. 

	'What did Iona mean? Were you out this morning? What were ya doing?'

	I wasn't about to blow my cover this early. I still had three more weeks left to earn the two pounds for the spikes. I had taken great pains in making sure to choose a lake to fish that wasn't on one of Dylan's morning running routes. So far I had earned 15 shillings selling the trout I'd caught. At this rate it didn't seem as if I could make the entire sum with my meager earnings at fish mongering. I'd need another plan.


	'Well?' Dylan had come to a full stop and demanded an explanation. 

	My friend could be exasperating in that way. The very thing I admired about him - his total honesty - was also the one thing that was most perturbing. Dylan could also sniff out a lie like a bloodhound. 

	'Well, what?' I countered lamely. 'Ya gonna believe what dopey Iona has to say? Ya know she's always tryin' to tattle on me for stuff I didn't even do.'

	Dylan shifted his stance.

	'Come on! We'll be late, and I'll tell Sister Augusta it was your doing!' I resumed walking. 

	'O.K. then.' Dylan tucked the magazine page into his jacket pocket. 'But we'll have to run to make it!'



				***



'Ya mean that little spitfire of a thing who comes chargin' through me field at all hours?' 

	Mr. Lahey sucked on his cherry pipe. The yellowish tint to his fading red beard betrayed his love of nicotine.

	I took his incredulous response to mean my grand scheme would be a difficult sell.

	'Yes sir. That would be Lan.'

	'Ya know he scares the tar out of me sheep and cows. He even got the dogs chasin' after him one mornin'. Didn't stop 'im though. He was back the next day, runnin' even faster.'

	'Mr...'

	'Other than that, he's a polite young lad I suppose...'

	I waited for the large man to process his thoughts.

	'Always waves to me, calls out a greetin'. Strange boy.' His sharp blue eyes rested on me. 'Yer his friend then, are ya?'

	'Yes sir. He's me best mate. And I was really hoping ya might be able to help me.'

	'So, he can get a pair of expensive clod hoppers to tear up me field?'

	'Well, Mr. Lahey, maybe if Lan gets his spikes, he'll take up some new routes,' I offered.

	'Ha!' The man's laugh was as large as himself. 'I wouldn't believe that lad could be persuaded to go anywhere other than where he set his mind to. I know that much about him.'

	'So, you'll help me.' I said it more as a foregone conclusion rather than a desperate plea.

	The man who stood taller than me own da returned his pipe to the pocket of his tweed jacket and tugged on his cap.

	'Since ya seem as unstoppable as yer best mate, I don't see as I have a choice.' He rested a calloused hand on my shoulder. 'It's a good thing yer doin', helpin' the lad like this. Just tell him to tread a little lighter if possible.'

	Without either one of us saying so, we knew that would never happen. We laughed in our unspoken bond.


Mr. Lahey put me to work mending some fences, and since he was a widower I even had to darn a few pairs of well worn socks! I worked for about a fortnight every day after school doing my best to keep my family and Dylan in the dark about my odd jobs. It wasn't easy. After school Dylan would press me about kicking around the pitch with some of other lads from our class. I must admit, it was tough for me to say no as I enjoyed a good game of football as much as the next boy. Dylan and I paired up as one team were pretty intimidating as well. 

	I'd usually spend no more than a half hour with the gang, then I would offer some excuse as to why I had to get home. 

	'Mam needs help with the girls. Da wants me home studying,' etc. 

	I was fairly certain Dylan only half believed me, but much to my surprise and relief, he left my excuses go unchallenged. After all, I had done odd jobs in the past so that I could raise the funds to buy new cars, or additional pieces of track. It was always a source of great delight to lay down my newest offering to our steadily expanding raceway. Neither of our families was well off, so we had to work for our little treasures. 


	This was an entirely different experience for me. If I didn't come up with the money, I felt it wouldn't be me who would be disappointed, but Dylan. No one worked harder for his treasure than he. With one week until Christmas, I was still 10 shillings short of two pounds. 


	'I don't know what I'm gonna do. I'm so close.' 

I displayed my half-filled jar to Mr. Lahey as we sat at his table sharing afternoon tea.
	'I have an idea, James.' 

	'Ya do?'

	'I've been considerin' it for the last two days.' 

He set aside his cup, and traced a pattern with his long finger onto the wood table.

 	'Ya see, like me, most people in the hills out here,' he identified the other farms on his imaginary map, 'have seen Lan many a day runnin' his heart out. He may give some people reason to scratch their heads, but I'll wager no-one doubts his passion for his sport.'

I nodded my agreement.


 'Ya go to them, lad. Knock on their doors and tell them what you mean to do. We take care of our own here, James. And Lan, he's turnin' out to be someone special among us now, isn't he?'


	'Ya really think they will contribute?'

	'Well, ya convinced me, and I was all but ready to run him off me fields with a pitch fork!'
 
	I rose from the table with new found hope. Tomorrow, right after super, I would begin to make my rounds. 

	'Thanks for your help, Mr. Lahey.'

	'Tis' nothin', James. Ya helped me get a lot accomplished. And I've enjoyed yer company. You be sure to bring Lan by in his new running shoes.'

	'Ya won't come after us with that pitch fork, will ya?'

	'If I did, I'd have to catch ya, and I've not the energy for that anymore. Ya just see to it yer friend doesn't do too much damage.'

	'Yes sir!' I promised. 



*  *  *



	'No supper with us tonight, James?' Mrs. Byrne inquired in her thick, Russian accent. Whenever I heard her speak I pictured frozen tundra and sleigh rides with folks bundled up in layers of warm blankets. Bells jingled as the horse-drawn sleigh glided under a darkening sky, cutting two perfect lines into the fresh, soft snow. Being only eleven, and Donegal the only place I'd ever known, I'd never even gone much past my own county. Dylan's mother was very exotic to me.

	'No thank you, Mrs. Byrne. I should be gettin' home now.' 

	'What's your parents got ya doing tonight?' 

Dylan placed his car, a highly coveted, 1955 silver Porsche Spyder Avus, back on the plastic track and eyed me with definite suspicion. He looked like an Indian chief with his powerful legs folded underneath him. His serious stare was quite intimidating. 

	'Oh, I dunno. I think da wanted me to help Iona with her mathematics.'

	'Uh-huh.' Dylan crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

	'Yeah, you know, I gotta make a good impression for Christmas.' I reasoned. 

	'You're up to something, James O'Keefe. You wouldn't be trading cars with Brian McCloud would ya?'

	Brian McCloud was a year ahead of Dylan and me in school. He was also a member of the wealthiest family in our village. They relocated to Donegal from Scotland, and Brian was always trying to make others feel inferior. Dylan had given Brian a good dressing down when he tried to flaunt his station. No one liked the way Brian made it a well known fact that his parents could buy him anything he wanted, but only Dylan had the guts to say so to Brian's face. 


	'Get away!' I snapped. 'You're just sore because Father Quinn gave you the task of carrying the baby Jesus to the manger at Midnight Mass!'

	'It's an honor!' Dylan countered looking deeply insulted.

'Yeah, but he picked you, because Sister Augusta told him it would be good for yer 'black-hearted soul!''
Dylan cracked a smile. No matter what slight offense might pass between us, we could never stay miffed for too long. We were too much alike. 

'I think Sister Augusta is taking a shine to me.'

'Good Night, Lan. I think you need to rest your fevered mind!'

'I'll be conducting inventory on your cars next time. Better not be any Scottish models among them!'



*  *  *



By the time I reached the fourth house, the Murphy's, the coins in my collection jar were beginning to jingle like the sleigh bells I associated with Mrs. Byrne. I knocked with conviction. 

It took a few moments for someone to answer. I could hear the excited voices of children and a baby crying. 
'What's yer business?' 

A woman with curly red hair twisted into a long braid which hung over one shoulder greeted me with a harried look.
'Evenin' Mrs. Murphy. I'm James O'Keefe from the village, and I attend St. Bro'nach's school with me mate, Dylan Byrne. You might have noticed him running through the hills here.' I motioned to the open space of land behind me. 
The baby continued to cry from a back room of the cottage, and Mr. Murphy was invoking his wife's assistance. She appeared about to dismiss me when a look of recognition swept across her pale face. 

'Ya mean the blonde fellow who comes out here most mornings before the sun even has a chance to rise.' 
She was smiling now.

'Yes, that's him.'

'Regina!' her husband called.

'Hush a moment, Christopher!'
 
She waved a hand behind her back.

'Now what about the lad?' 

Two red-headed children joined her at the door. I smiled at them and continued my rehearsed plea.

'I'm takin' up a collection...'

'Collection? Is he ill?' 

She clutched at her children in a protective gesture. Given her grave presumption, I felt a little silly asking for her money.

'No, mam. He...He uh...well, he needs a pair of racing spikes.'

'Racing...glory be to God!' she laughed. 'I should say he does at that!'

'Whatever you can give, Mrs. Murphy. It doesn't have to be too dear.'

'Wait here, son.'

She shuttled her children back inside and closed the door. The baby had taken a respite from crying, and just as I was about to turn and go, thinking she had been intercepted by an angry Mr. Murphy, he opened the door. Standing next to his wife, the man who was much shorter than I imagined extended his hand to me. 

'I hear you're trying to get some spikes for that runner.'

'Yes, Mr. Murphy.'

'My wife told me how he helped her one afternoon. Our three- year-old, Nora, took off on a walk about, and the boy offered to find her. He did just that too.'

I could imagine the panicked Mrs. Murphy pleading with an already sweaty Dylan to run the parameters of her land to find her daughter. Of course he would have done it. 

'Here ya go then.' Mr. Murphy dropped four shillings into my jar. 

'Are ya sure, sir?' I knew they didn't have that much to spare.

'Not too many boys your age give a toss about helping out. The world, Ireland, is a scary place these days. You and your friend don't change any now.'

'Thank you, Mr. Murphy, Mrs. Murphy.' 

I took my leave, comprehending in a way I never had before, that Dylan and I were truly lucky to have each other. 
			


			***



'Wha.... Where did you get these?' Dylan held the pair of spikes in between us as if they were bars of gold. 
'Ya like em?' 

I couldn't wait any longer to make my grand presentation. I had purchased the spikes through Doyle's shop. This would hardly be considered a department store by today's standards, but, it was the largest variety store in our town. Mr. Doyle had to order the shoes from Donegal proper, and they took a few days to arrive. By the time Christmas Eve came round, and school let out for the holiday, the shoes had becomes like hot coals in my hand. I had to give them to Dylan, or risk ruining my surprise. I slipped unnoticed from my house while my boisterous family prepared for Midnight Mass. Once at the Byrne's, I offered my greetings to Dylan's parents and his little sister, Lorena who repeatedly asked her mother why they had to go to church instead of staying home to await St. Nickolas's arrival.


My heart pounded as I took the steps to Dylan's loft-room two at a time. I found him wrapping a colorful tie around his neck. I never saw him so decked out before. His dark blue suit coat fit perfectly over a crisp white shirt. His grey trousers were neatly pressed, and his usually fly-away hair was combed down neatly to one side.
He stood before me now dumbfounded.


'I love them.' His brown eyes lit up like the lights on our tree. 'But how could you afford them?'


Not only had I collected the sum necessary to purchase the spikes, but over a pound to spare. Mr. Lahey was right about the folks of the hills. They did indeed take care of their own. And Dylan was special to them.
'Let's just say ya have friends that ya don't even know about.' 

I took the extra money from my pocket. 

'What do ya think we should do with this?'

Dylan reluctantly took his eyes from the prized footwear to look at the offering in my hand. His marked silence reflected he was giving my question considerable thought. 

'Why don't we give it to these friends that you seem to know about?'

'Yeah,' I smiled thinking of Mr. Lahey, the Murphys and the families who had given so generously. 'We'll do somethin' smashing for them.'

'Jimmy.'

'Shut up. We gotta get to Mass.' 

Dylan was never one to hide his emotions. He placed the spikes on his bed and hugged me to him. 
'Thank you.'

We quickly stepped away from one another. 

'Yer welcome, ya sod!' I punched his arm. 'I'll see ya in church!'


			***



Our small church was a numinous place with white candles set in the frosted windows. Hand-painted statues extended their lifeless open hands to the congregation. What exactly were these icons pleading for? The space smelled like pine. I closed my eyes and imagined we were like the ancient Celts gathered together in the forest to celebrate the winter solstice. The air was clean, the sky imbued with stars and the moon welcomed us to his kingdom. 
Instead we were packed into narrow pews like sardines. During the prolonged service, the singing of hymns, scripture readings and prayers, I longed to be outside in that forest. I squirmed in my seat. In unique moments such as this, I understood completely why running was so important to Dylan. He was one with nature out there, and the folks who lived among the tress and hills appreciated that more than anyone. 


I glanced across the aisle to where the Byrne family sat. Lorena was asleep in her mother's lap, and Dylan was trying hard not to fidget, his furrowed brow a sign of his effort at concentration. Believing I had supernatural powers, I willed him to turn his head. In a few moments he was making goofy faces, rolling his large eyes and sticking out his tongue, just like in school. The laugh that issued from me bounced off the walls with the shadows cast by the candle light. My mother gripped my hand with surprising strength while admonishing me through pursed lips. Mrs. Byrne had Dylan in a similar fashion. 


Some people stared at us in disapproval, but some good souls smiled, remembering what it was like to be eleven- years- old on Christmas Eve. Father Quinn paused during his extended holiday homily to cast the required look of priestly displeasure. 


After the exasperated priest picked up the thread of his sermon, Dylan turned to wink at me, and then returned his attention to the front.


My mother bent down so that her lips touched my ear.

'James O'Keefe...'

'I know mam, sorry.' I whispered smiling in satisfaction. I had completed my mission.
The end of the service marked our parish's Christmas tradition. A child from the school was given the task of carrying the baby Jesus-a porcelain likeness of the infant-to the nativity scene in front of the building. 
The people filed out singing, then waited in the crisp December air for Father Quinn to descend down the aisle and hand the small statue to Dylan who would carry it to the manger. 

The priest made his way from the alter with layers of robes rustling behind him. His attitude was most somber as he deposited his offering into Dylan's outstretched arms. Father joined the assembly around the manger.
All eyes were on Dylan as he stepped from his pew and into the aisle. His feet made contact with the plank floor like a step-dancer's. At first few noticed the curious clacking, but by the time he approached the open double doors everyone heard those brand new spikes making contact with the wood. The sound echoed off the bare church walls like the laughter of fey in the glen. 


People quizzically turned to one another. My mother made the sign of the cross, and I met Dylan's wide-eyed grin as he proudly made his way to the manger, knelling down in reverence and placing the baby into the make-shift crib. 


He stood and faced the congregation with a dignified air. Even Sister Augusta's mortified stare could not mar the magical moment. 


I located the faces of most of the families who had given to the cause, and that of Mr. Lahey standing next to his sheep at the manger. They all were smiling at the little blonde boy who was brushing a sweep of renegade hair from his eyes. Father Quinn placed an arm around Dylan and before calling us to one last prayer, addressed the gathering. 


'Dylan, I want to thank you for your assistance on this holiest of nights. I don't think your offering will be one any of us will soon forget!'


The people - relieved for the permission to release their amusement, did so in appreciative waves of laughter. 
'I did what Sister Augusta told us to do, Father.' Dylan stared up at the man. 

'I made my offering with what I love.' 





Bree Donovan
(C) 2007





=================================================

1911 CENSUS OF IRELAND NOW ONLINE
=================================

The National Archives of Ireland has made 
available a fantastic new resource for researchers 
and people investigating their Irish roots.
 
The household returns and ancillary records for 
the Censuses of Ireland of 1901 and 1911 are 
being put online! Actual images of the census 
documents can be viewed and printed free of 
charge. The Dublin Census returns of 1911 are 
already available to view with Counties Kerry, 
Antrim, Down, Donegal and Cork the next to be 
put online. 

The database is searchable by name and location 
and provides a wealth of information. The number 
of inhabitants in a particular house or family, 
their occupation, age, marital status and host of 
other important data is now within reach of anyone 
with internet access!

Pictures of old Dublin are also available at the 
site which can be found at:


http://www.census.nationalarchives.ie

=================================================

GAELIC PHRASES OF THE MONTH
===========================

PHRASE:		Nollaig faoi shean is faoi mhaise duit!
PRONOUNCED:	Nullig fwee yan iss fwee mway/shih dwit
MEANING:		A prosperous and enjoyable Christmas!

PHRASE:		Nollaig Shona duit
PRONOUNCED:	nullig hunna dwit
MEANING:		Happy Christmas to you

PHRASE:		Athblian shona duit
PRONOUNCED:	ought/bleen hunna dwit
MEANING:		Happy new year to you

View the archive of phrases here:

https://www.ireland-information.com/irishphrases.htm

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DECEMBER COMPETITION RESULT
===========================

The winner was: sansomsullivan@sympatico.ca
who will receive the following: 

A Single Family Crest Print (decorative) 
(US$19.99 value)

Send us an email to claim your print, and well 
done! Remember that all subscribers to this 
newsletter are automatically entered into the 
competition every time. 

=================================================

I hope that you have enjoyed this issue.

Until next time,

Michael Green,
Editor,
The Information about Ireland Site.


https://www.ireland-information.com

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