According to the Dictionary of the Irish Language, the word means old tales, ancient history, tradition. In modern Irish, it’s frequently translated as “storytelling.” The purpose of this blog is a little bit of both.
In the months before my Irish mother passed away in 2017, she told me she worried about her legacy—that her story would be lost. Had she had passed on enough knowledge to me? What would happen to that knowledge if I never had children? Who would know her story? In hindsight I know that she had no need to worry: these things move between generations of women regardless of bloodline. There is a deep, chthonic magic in us that can never die.
who am I?
I grew up on a subsistence farm in the Catskill Mountains of New York, part of a large family who lived close to the land and seasons. For the past 10 years, I’ve lived in New Orleans, where I help make theatre. I have a tiny apartment, an enormous bulldog, and I would love a cup of coffee.