The Appreciation appreciated

The Appreciation appreciated

Coolavin National school was built in 1871. There were 2 sections - Boys and Girls. It probably replaced the old Monasteraden Boys' and Girls' schools. In 1936 the boys and girls schools became one and in 1967 pupils from Townaghbrack National School which closed, transfered to Coolavin. Coolavin N.S. closed its doors for the last time in December 1973 and the pupils and teacher Teresa Murtagh moved to the new St. Aiden's N.S. The following staff are recorded John Casey, Mary Coleman, Winifred Casey, Nora Teresa Lavin, Kate Flaherty, Bridie P. Jackson, Mary Kate Corcoran, Miss M. Spelman, Hannah Tynan, Catherine Casey, Mary Finnegan,

Coolavin National school was built in 1871. There were 2 sections – Boys and Girls. It probably replaced the old Monasteraden Boys’ and Girls’ schools.
In 1936 the boys and girls schools became one and in 1967 pupils from Townaghbrack National School which closed, transfered to Coolavin.
Coolavin N.S. closed its doors for the last time in December 1973 and the pupils and teacher Teresa Murtagh moved to the new St. Aiden’s N.S.
The following staff are recorded John Casey, Mary Coleman, Winifred Casey, Nora Teresa Lavin, Kate Flaherty, Bridie P. Jackson, Mary Kate Corcoran, Miss M. Spelman, Hannah Tynan, Catherine Casey, Mary Finnegan,

I spoke with Pat Hunt (via email) in recent days.  We talked of Joe Spelman and Bishop Brendan’s homily and the “appreciation” he mentioned that had been written about Fr Joe’s mother (R.I.P. them both) following her death in 1982.  I am fairly confident I have a copy of that somewhere but most likely filed, like lots of my bits and pieces, under “I don’t know where!!”.  Pat told me he’d send me the words. A man of his word, he did!  I will include them here.  They were written by Mary Corcoran whose Funeral Mass I celebrated in Monasteraden in February 2015.  God Rest them all.  Thanks to Pat Hunt for sharing these words with me again ..

https://sherlockshome.iemary-corcoran-r-i-p/


LATE MRS M. SPELMAN
(An appreciation by an ex-Pupil)

I was five years old when I first met Mrs Spelman. She was the Infants’ teacher in Coolavin School and she travelled daily by train from Ballaghaderreen to Island Road Station. There,the “big girls” took her bag leaving her two hands free to clasp the “wee ones” as she called us in her softly slightly northern accent.

For those of us venturing out to school for the first time her hand had a comforting feel as we trotted the half mile to school. To get to the Class Room we had to pass through the “Big School” — and while Mrs Spelman was allowed the short cut across the hearth flag, we crept silently round the room under the baleful glare of the “the Mrs” — whose specs on the end of her nose, seemed to give her the ability to see in all directions simultaneously. Once inside the Class Room door we were safe. With chalk, slates, pencils, ball-frames, plasticine, she taught us all that we were able to learn. If we were bright, we earned her smile and a pat; if we were slow, we earned a bit more of her time and patience, but if we were bold, we earned her frown and her disappointment but never, ever her anger.

Above all she taught us how to pray. Such was her fervour and devotion that it wasn’t unknown for people outside of school to ask for her prayers in time of trouble. Preparation for first Holy Communion wasn’t just intended for one particular Whit Sunday, rather did it lay the foundation for devotion to the Blessed Sacrament for the rest of our lives. We left her room after two years, but we never left her thoughts and prayers.

I met her again just two weeks ago. Though in her late 80s, she bubbled with joy and welcome and for a couple of hours we travelled “Bóithrín na Smaointe”. Only a few days later the “two boys” (as she fondly called her sons Frs Jo and Jerry) took her for a trip around her beloved Coolavin and Monasteraden, where she renewed many old acquaintances. A few days later she returned to Dublin to her daughter. There she died.

True, she never won any Captain’s prize on the golf links nor was she the president of any organisation. Neither did she receive any public recognition when her thirty years in Monasteraden came to an end, but she carved a niche in our hearts that will last forever. As I left Kilcolman graveyard on Wednesday, the prayer of the Bishop as he blessed the coffin kept coming back to me, “May the Angels lead you into Paradise and may the saints and martyrs greet you at your coming” — for they don’t come like Mrs Spelman any more.

M.C.
Mrs Spelman died on 29th August 1982

A few words shared

A few words shared

Today we had Mass in Kilmovee.  We remembered there Joe Smyth, a former teacher and Community Man who was an inspirational figure, leaving quite a legacy behind.  In recent years a Summer School, named in his memory, has taken place in the parish.  It begins this week and we had a special remembrance at our Parish Mass for Joe and a prayer of blessing for the days to come.  I decided to record a few bits from the Mass, including the few words I shared.   This weekend’s Gospel speaks of the Lord sending out his disciples “in pairs” and encourages them to recognise people who make them welcome.  I’ve been thinking about that in recent days.  The Gospel speaks as well about the “rejoicing” of the disciples.  I am going to include the few words here, they are not scripted but hopefully reflective of what I wanted to say. Maybe they have something to say to you, perhaps not.  Either way, I’m going to share ….

Time shared …

Time shared …

Earlier today I met some cousins who are visiting from USA.  We arranged to meet at Knock Shrine and had lunch together.  Some I’d have known from before, with others it was a first time meeting.  Enjoyed the company very much and was good to catch up with those I know and get to know those I didn’t.  JFK’s line came to mind “A stranger is a friend I’ve yet to meet” …

Before meeting them I went to the Basilica for a minute.  Decided to take a little video of the Basilica which looks so good.  Posted to YouTube so have a look

After lunch we went home to Moygara and my brother Gerard took the family to see the home of their ancestors in Fauleens.  I think there is not much of the home left now but  even to stand on the ground has meaning.

I suppose we take our place for granted a bit and it’s all very local to us.  It’s when you see how much it means to children and grandchildren of those who emigrated, you begin to re-assess the appreciation of what’s local.

Two Legends

Two Legends

Watched a documentary on Johnny Cash the other evening.  It was called “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash”.  It was very good.  I liked one piece where Kris Kristofferson talked about Johnny singing one of his songs “Sunday Morning Coming Down” and that the producers of the show wanted him to substitute a word they did not think acceptable.  Cash asked Kris what he thought and Kris said the other word suggested did not have the same meaning.  He left the choice to Cash …..

I just recorded this with phone so video quality not great but the message is clear and I love Kris’ rendition.  I cut the recording before realising Kris had something else to say about the lines he had just sung … “Well, I guess that could have been sung worse but I don’t know by who …..”

I think Kris does a good job on his own song … here he sings it at a tribute concert in memory of Johnny Cash.

A decent man …

A decent man …

Save us, Lord, while we are awake; protect us while we sleep; that we may keep watch with Christ and rest with him in peace.
 
Now, Master, you let your servant go in peace.
You have fulfilled your promise.
My own eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the sight of all peoples.
A light to bring the Gentiles from darkness;
the glory of your people Israel.
 
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
world without end.
 
Amen.
 
Save us, Lord, while we are awake; protect us while we sleep; that we may keep watch with Christ and rest with him in peace.

In 1992, my second year in Collooney parish, there was a change of priests.  Tommy Johnston was appointed Parish Priest in Mullinabreena bringing to an end one of the most enjoyable years I had in ministry - enjoyable in the sense that Tommy and I worked very much as a team, going places together, sharing ideas and trying to put them into action.  We had good fun along the way.

Tommy's transfer brought me into contact with Joe Spelman who was appointed Parish Priest of Collooney.  I'd known Joe for years but in a different setting,  He was a Professor in Maynooth, a very intelligent man and we moved in different circles.  My mother used to have an expression that spoke about a person's good qualities, she'd say "He'd never close his eye on you". I came to see that as a huge compliment, speaking to a person's character and, in particular, the truth that the person would always notice and acknowledge you. Joe fell into that revered category. I remember him walking "Joe's Square" in Maynooth and no matter who he was with, he always gave that smiling nod as you walked past in the opposite direction.  Words, though sometimes used, were not necessary.  Joe was saying "hello" in his own way and letting the other know that was the right thing to do.

In Collooney, our relationship was somewhat different.  The "Professor" had become a priest in a parish, as had the student five years earlier.  Now we were on the same pitch, wearing the same colours and walking in the same direction.  Joe was very aware that it was his first taste of Parish life.  He had retired from Maynooth's staff earlier in the year and came to Collooney, not to retire but to engage with a new phase of life.  No more than myself, he was finding his feet in ministry and was not afraid to acknowledge that.  "If it's not broken", he told me, "don't fix it".  What he was saying centred on his belief that whatever was working well in the parish, whatever Tommy and I had set in place and was seen to be working would continue.  He wasn't there to stamp authority or do it "his way" but to journey with people in the hope we were on the right road.

Bishop Flynn appointed Joe as Vicar General of the Diocese and with that came the title "Monsignor".  Joe took the role seriously and was a very good Vicar General of Achonry.  He took the title less seriously and never attached to himself any of the trappings or shades of the office. There was something strangely comforting about this. There was nothing surprising about it.

We had three years together and, when I moved to the Marriage Tribunal in 1995, I was sorry to be leaving Joe.  I enjoyed his ways so much.  He had a droll voice and an equally droll sense of humour but, and for me equally important, a sharp mind and the ability to dispense (without you knowing you were in the dispensary!) solid advice.  One of my favourites was around a letter I had written about something that hurt and bothered me.  I showed the letter to Joe.  He read it carefully, handed in back to me and said; "Vincent, that's an excellent letter. What you say is true and you've every right to say it but if you take my advice you won't send it."  Then he added "I've never regretted a letter I didn't send but I've regretted a few I did".  It took a few minutes for it to sink in but the letter became pieces and the pieces were left in Joe's dustbin.  The pieces led to peace!  

I remember him writing to me the first Christmas I was in Galway.  He told me bits and pieces about the parish, what was happening and how people were keeping. Before signing the letter he concluded with the words "I miss you".  I was taken by those words because he could have pushed it out a little from himself and said "you're missed" or "the people miss you" or "it's not the same without you" but no, he made it personal "I miss you".  I hope he never regretted writing those lines!!  I never regretted reading them and they continue to console me in times of self questioning.  His lines remind me that I have made a difference in people's lives.

Joe died on Thursday morning, June 23rd after a few years journey with the uninvited guest of "Parkinson's Disease"  It took away much of the man's character, slowed his movement and perhaps most sadly of all, dented that great intellect with which he had been so clearly gifted.  I visited him a few times in Dublin though not often enough. The more recent visits were difficult because there was no recognition and I found it difficult to see him like that. I had no sense of him knowing me or remembering anything of the road we travelled and shared.  Hopefully I remembered for both of us.

At his Funeral Mass yesterday (June 25th) in Collooney, Bishop Brendan went back beyond Joe and opened his words to us with memories of Joe's mother who had been a teacher in Coolavin N.S. (Monasteraden). After her death in 1982 a past pupil wrote a tribute to her in a local paper.  For thirty years she'd taught the junior classes and the writer said when they left home to go to school for the first time Mrs Spelman held out a hand that was "warm and welcoming". She, the writer recalled, taught the children "all we were able to learn" and she "etched" in their hearts a lasting love for God as she prepeared them for the Sacraments.  I loved the line "all we were able to learn" - today they'd call that "differentiation" where the child's abilities are centre stage and teaching takes place in accordance with how much a child is able for.  Mrs Spelman seems to have been ahead of her time.  As Bishop Brendan introduced us to her, there was a sense of a woman who knew what she was about and who made a lasting impression. He concluded "I think her son carved a good niche too in the hearts of many people…" 

So he did.  He moved with people at their pace, prayed with people as they could pray and stayed for as long as he was needed. He was a good priest, a role model and thankfully a friend.

Back to that Christmas Card of 1995 and hoping he won't mind me stealing his words:

(Joe) "I miss you".

R.I.P.

(Click here for Full Text of Bishop Brendan's Homily)

_____________________________________

I included Horses and Plough as the Featured Image for this post.  I did so because I've been thinking again of Kavanagh's great poem, "To the man after the harrow" which, I'm told, he wrote for a neighbour who was being ordained a priest.  I love the idea that Kavanagh used his gift to create a gift for a neighbour's son. I am not 100% sure about this though I met a group of priests at a retreat one time and some of them knew the man the poem was written for.  I'd hate to think the ordination was not the reason for the poem but whatever the reason, the words are great. I think, had it been written for Joe, Kavanagh would be happy  that his advice was heeded.

_____________________________________

harrow

To The Man After The Harrow

 

Now leave the check-reins slack,
The seed is flying far today -
The seed like stars against the black
Eternity of April clay.

This seed is potent as the seed
Of knowledge in the Hebrew Book,
So drive your horses in the creed
Of God the Father as a stook.

Forget the men on Brady's Hill.
Forget what Brady's boy may say.
For destiny will not fulfil
Unless you let the harrow play.

Forget the worm's opinion too
Of hooves and pointed harrow-pins,
For you are driving your horses through
The mist where Genesis begins.

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