Simone Martel's Blog - Posts Tagged "martel"
Irish Inspiration
When the Irish literary magazine Crannog accepted my short story, Autumn Sonata, for their fall issue they emailed me an invite me to the launch party at the Crane Bar in Galway, Ireland. Two days later my husband, Paul, and I bought plane tickets. We’ll fly from San Francisco to Dublin, then drive across Ireland to meet other writers in what looks like, online, an incredibly cozy, traditional pub. We can’t wait.
“Do it now, kids,” my mother-in-law tells us, often. Recently she moved from her big house into an assisted living place, giving away most of her things. Paul and I got the suitcases. Paul’s mom’s traveling days are behind her. My own mom has cancer and her traveling days are on hold. Our son’s living on his own in San Francisco, doing well. Now’s the time to be bold.
So we’re doing it, even though we can’t really afford the trip, even though it’s crazy, even though when I imagine stepping into the Crane Bar at 7PM on October 28 the step seems scary. I believe Ireland is a country that welcomes writers, though. While I’m there, I hope to sit beside Oscar Wilde’s statue on a Dublin bench, maybe stand below James Joyce’s Martello tower in Sandycove. I’ve reread the tower scene at the beginning of Ulysses just in case. I plan to pay my respects at W.B. Yeats’s grave in County Sligo and read the words I first encountered in English class: Cast a cold eye/on life, on death/Horseman, pass by!
“Do it now, kids.”
The next time my mother-in-law says those words, I’ll tell her we’re trying. I know. The time is now.
“Do it now, kids,” my mother-in-law tells us, often. Recently she moved from her big house into an assisted living place, giving away most of her things. Paul and I got the suitcases. Paul’s mom’s traveling days are behind her. My own mom has cancer and her traveling days are on hold. Our son’s living on his own in San Francisco, doing well. Now’s the time to be bold.
So we’re doing it, even though we can’t really afford the trip, even though it’s crazy, even though when I imagine stepping into the Crane Bar at 7PM on October 28 the step seems scary. I believe Ireland is a country that welcomes writers, though. While I’m there, I hope to sit beside Oscar Wilde’s statue on a Dublin bench, maybe stand below James Joyce’s Martello tower in Sandycove. I’ve reread the tower scene at the beginning of Ulysses just in case. I plan to pay my respects at W.B. Yeats’s grave in County Sligo and read the words I first encountered in English class: Cast a cold eye/on life, on death/Horseman, pass by!
“Do it now, kids.”
The next time my mother-in-law says those words, I’ll tell her we’re trying. I know. The time is now.
