Liz Warren | Storyteller

        I got up early this morning to witness the departure of my colleague Mary Aldridge and most of the students.  Mary is on her way to Heathrow, with its heightened terrorist alert status, and then on to Nottingham for her Study Abroad in Britain program.  This is the first time for the program, so she is excited and anxious for all to go well.  She was worried that her Study Abroad Britain students or their parents would be panicking in the wake of the terror attacks, but as of last night she hadn’t heard a peep from any of them.

       I was sad to see everyone go. There were a few tears, but I think most of them were ready to go home.  As I watched the bus pull away with its load of youthful occupants I thought, “Well, there goes the energy.”  I was especially sorry to see Mary go.  She and I have had such a good time this summer laughing like fools over everything and nothing. 

       But once they were gone I felt fine and there was still plenty of energy around for me to draw on. I am looking forward to the solitude and quiet time I’ll have this week to catch up on my blog entries.  Only Barry Vaughan, Bob Farwell and a few of the students who are staying for the second session will be here.  This quieter week will begin the transition back to my so called “normal” life.  On my return from my previous two trips, I spent the first week or so with my head still in Ireland, reflecting and writing about my experience.  This time I seem to be having that week here.

       It won’t be complete down time in any case.  I’m going to Dublin over Wednesday night July 4^th to see Liz Weir and some other storytellers perform at an Intercultural Storytelling Evening at the Project Arts Centre in Temple Bar.  In addition to Liz, I’ll get to see Eddie Lenihan, plus two that I’ve never heard before – Niall de Burca and Nuala Hayes. Then on Saturday morning I’ll go back to Dublin with Barry.  Barry will drop me at an airport hotel and then go on to meet the second group of students.  I’ll then spend Saturday and Sunday night at the airport to make my return on Monday morning easy.  Most likely, I’ll get to see Miceál Ross again over the weekend.  My one regret is that I won’t get to see my colleague Shereen Lerner who will be arriving in the second wave. She’ll be supervising our students on an archaeological dig at Tulsk led Dr. Niall Brady of Discovery Programme Ireland.

       So, here I am writing away.  It’s overcast, breezy, and 57 degrees.  Picture it: on July 2^nd, I am wearing long pants, knee high socks, closed in shoes, a long sleeved tee and a jacket in the house to sit at my computer.  Later I’ll go out for a walk even if it is raining.  I’m finding it hard to ignore the looming reality of 116 degrees, air conditioning, and no more time outdoors – probably only as I run from the car to the grocery store and back.  Plus, my return means that my sabbatical is really, really over and it will be time to prepare for full-time teaching in August.  So much for “be here now”, but knowing what is coming actually serves to focus my attention on how truly marvelous it is to be here – now.

       The picture at the beginning of the post is the little fuchsia that I bought at Tesco the second day I was here.  It’s been sitting in my window blooming profusely for the past four weeks.  Shereen will get the benefit of it and a bright pink geranium that lives in the kitchen. Both are sitting in fuchsia plastic bowls that Carol Kearney left in our apartment last year along with a nice topaz plastic fruit bowl all of which were still here and in good shape this summer when we returned.