The Irish Goodbye: Micro-Memoirsby Beth Ann Fennelly
The term, “Irish goodbye,” means leaving a party or a gathering quietly without saying goodbye to anyone.
Poet Fennelly in 2013 (en.wikipedia.org)
The Irish Goodbye is a collection of short to extremely brief writings by the former poet laureate of Mississippi. It ranges from her quick thoughts on married life (a cracked knee when presenting a 25th anniversary ring to folded oven mitts in a drawer), to contemplating friendships old and new, to mourning the sudden death of a sister, to facing the deaths of other family and friends. Much space is devoted to Fennelly’s recollections of her sister and the deep hole she left in Fennelly’s life. Mixed with the sadness and the wondering, there is also humor and wit.
I found this book a delight. As it progresses, Fennelly removes a few more layers and candidly exposes more of herself. Her prose is succinct and precise and often sparkles. She makes you smile as you admire her adept turn of phrase. Recommended for book clubs looking for a short powerful punch! (A version of this review appeared in BookBrowse online.)
Another recently published book, getting quite a bit of attention, is also entitled The Irish Goodbye. It is a Read with Jenna Book Club Pick and Heather Aimee O’Neill’s first novel. I have not yet read it.
A group of 12 of us went to dinner at the expansive Tribeca Tavern. The interior features warm dark wood tables and floors and is both rustic and comfortable with a fireplace in one section. The restaurant’s mission is “pasture to plate,” and they partner with local farmers and ranchers to provide fresh ingredients. On the menu are more than ten burgers, a host of sandwiches, small plates ranging from beet hummus to wings to brussels sprouts, and a number of salads and entrees. If you’re not a carnivore, choose from jambalaya, fish tacos, shrimp, or salmon.
Many in our group ordered burgers with fries or chips; the Chief Penguin and I took a different approach. I like fried green tomatoes and was eager to try their rendition. Finished with bourbon bacon jam and pimento cheese, they were delicious. I also sampled the French dip which was a generous and tasty sandwich on focaccia, while the C.P. went for shrimp and grits, another good-sized portion.
He had an Old Fashioned, while I sipped a local lager from Clayton. The drinks list is long, and if you’re so inclined—it is a tavern after all— there is also a separate multi-page whiskey list. Whiskeys from the Carolinas, bourbons and ryes from Kentucky, Tennessee, and everywhere. Most impressive. Our young waitress did an admirable job serving our table and, liking the food, we’d happily return.
Having discovered the delights of our local movie theater, the Chief Penguin and I walked downtown again. This time to see Jodie Foster in A Private Life. A French film in French with subtitles and a few snatches of English, it’s a little bit of everything: murder mystery, love story, and psychological portrait. Foster plays Lilian, an American psychiatrist in Paris, who lives a polished, well-ordered, and meticulously arranged life.
The news of the death of a favorite patient, Paula, presumed to be suicide, puts her into a tailspin. Lilian’s convinced that it’s murder and comes up with a variety of theories based on conjecture. She engages her ex-husband Gabriel in her investigations, and they go rogue pursuing her ideas. In between, she sees a hypnotist, her imagination goes wild, and she insults her son Julien at a family dinner.
The film doesn’t completely work or hold together. The best moments are the tender scenes between Lilian and Gaby and Lilian’s apology to her son. The two leads are wonderful and probably what makes the film worth seeing. Jodie Foster transforms from brittle to serious to finally, smiling with laughter; a convincing range of moods. Daniel Auteuil, an ophthamologist, is warm and approachable, ready to go along with Lilian, and comforting like a teddy bear. (~JWFarrington)
BLACK HISTORY IN NORTH CAROLINA
In celebration of Black History month, local speakers presented talks about remnants of the Underground Railroad in this state and a Raleigh park devoted to Black resilience and the quest for freedom. Heather Leah, self-dubbed the Hidden Historian, shared information on the freedom roads, tunnels, and other means of escape used by enslaved people in North Carolina. Her new book, Lost Towns of North Carolina, was released this month.
Khadija McNair, Park Manager, introduced us to the relatively new (opened August 2023), North Carolina Freedom Parkin downtown Raleigh. It’s “a tribute to the spirit of the African American struggle for freedom and universal ideals of liberty, resilience, and equality.” Reddish orange panels bear quotes from notable African Americans in North Carolina’s history, and in the center of the park is a 45 ft. flame, the Beacon of Freedom.
View of Freedom Park (raltoday.6amcity.com)
The park is part of the North Carolina African American Heritage Commission and one of a number of historic sites, including the International Civil Rights Center and Museum in Greensboro. The C. P. and I visited the impressive Greensboro center some years ago, but still newish residents, we need to explore other historical sites.
EATING OUT: LAOTIAN REPRISE
Saap (Downtown Cary)
Dinner at Saap the other evening reminded us why we like this place so much. It’s a short walk away located on the back side of the Cary Downtown Park, and the food is always tasty. For this meal, we ordered the special shrimp and pork dumplings which were superb and the tiger shrimps on skewers, also excellent. Both came with appropriate dipping sauces with some heat.
We also shared the basil and garlic stir fry with crispy chicken. The garlic was definitely present, but there could have been more basil leaves. There’s a choice of shrimp, tofu, or chicken. We thought the chicken would have been better either less battered or not fried at all. It came with white rice.
A wide selection of drinks includes beer on draft and in cans, wines by the glass or bottle, classic cocktails and specialty ones, along with some zero alcohol offerings. To end the meal, our waitress brought us a saucer with tempting little chocolates topped with a bit of pomegranate.
I realized early this morning that today, February 15th, was my grandmother’s birthday. Meta Marie Henne was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan, in 1897. If she were a centennial woman, today would be her 129th birthday; she died at 80 in 1977. In 1922, a few years after graduating from college a Phi Beta Kappa math major, she married my grandfather, Erich Albert Walter. She was his staunch helpmeet throughout their 55 years of marriage. In 1972, extended family gathered in Ann Arbor to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary.
Erich & Meta Walter, 1972
With contributions from all of us, my mother created an elaborate scrapbook stuffed with photos, cartoons, family memories, and plenty of humor. Appropriately, it was designed as a mock yearbook, since Grandpa spent his entire career at the University of Michigan as professor, dean of students, and then administrator. I think Grandma complemented his whimsical and outwardly more breezy approach to life with solid good sense and a shared love of reading and education.
She was the soul of patience, or so she seemed to me as a child. She always had time for her grandchildren, taught us girls how to tat, was glad to cut out paper dolls, and was good at explaining the ways of the world or the requests of our parents in words that we could understand. Grandma said more than once, that she hoped to grow old with grace. And she did.
She was also an accomplished baker and cook. We especially liked the little soft rolls she made, her bread and butter pickles, and dishes such as veal in a mild paprika sauce (Paprikafleisch) and Hollander dumplings (a glorified name for beef stuffed cabbage rolls in tomato sauce). Both my grandmothers laid their dining tables with white linen tablecloths and linen napkins; there was an expectation that our manners would live up to the setting.
Exercise & Gardening
A woman who wore her black hair in braids curled on her head, she never went completely gray and always wore dresses, stockings, and sensible shoes. In the 1960’s, during the early fitness craze, she would stand in front of the TV in her dress and follow along with Jack LaLanne doing the exercises. When visiting, we joined in. Grandma was also a dedicated gardener. She was especially fond of her rose bushes, delicate lettuces, and different herbs. She made a wonderful salad of those greens dressed with a vinaigrette of oil, lemon juice, and fresh lovage from her yard.
Communicating
We lived 500 miles away in upstate New York and only saw these grandparents once or twice a year. Fortunately, Grandma and Grandpa were inveterate letter writers. Hers, in precisely formed penmanship, detailed the state of the garden or the most recent music or theater event at the university. Grandpa’s letters, written in a bold scrawly manner, were hard to decipher and almost always included a newspaper or magazine clipping about something of note. Long distance phone calls were expensive and infrequent; when they happened, we four kids had to pass the phone around for a brief greeting after our parents had their chance to talk.
Theater in Ontario
As the eldest grandchild on both sides of the family, I was named for my grandmothers: Jean after my maternal Grandmother Hancock and Marie after Meta. When the Chief Penguin and I were first married, we enjoyed several summers of attending the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Ontario with Grandma and Grandpa. We were their guests, and with two plays a day for several days in a row, we had a surfeit of the bard occasionally leavened by a more contemporary work.
After seeing Othello one year and finding it too much and definitely not our favorite, Grandpa grabbed my hands, got the four of us in a circle, and had us vow “never to see Othello again.” Grandma, always more serious on the surface than Grandpa and not wanting to call undue attention to herself, went along with his silliness. Knowing these grandparents as I did was a treat and a source of fond memories that I treasure still. Thank you, Grandma, for your love and kindness and your graciousness!
RECENT READING
A WINTER NOVEL: LOVE AND FREEDOM IN CANADA
Fireflies in Winter by Eleanor Shearer
Author Shearer (gb.readly.com)
Fireflies in Winteris a beautiful novel set near Halifax, Nova Scotia, at the end of the 18th century. Cora is part of a group of Maroons, exiles from Jamaica, who live in a kind of community with former slaves and others. Fleeing the pressures of that life and an expectation that she would marry a widower, she escapes to the shadowy woods where she connects with Agnes, another young woman.
Shearer graphically depicts the beauty and the hardships of living in hiding in the woods, particularly during harsh winters. She delicately reveals the growing trust and developing relationship between Cora and Agnes. These women are not literate, but they possess depths of feeling and sensitivity to the creatures and the environment around them. Much of what has marked each woman in her past remains sketchy or unknown; always there are undertones relating to who is free and what freedom really means in daily life.
I loved the annual appearance of the whales and liked how rounded a character the dog Patience is. I was also drawn to Thursday and his quiet caring ways. Some explanatory note about the Maroons, prefacing the novel, would enrich the reading experience for those like me who were unfamiliar with this independent group of Jamaican Blacks. Recommended for fans of historical fiction and book clubs. (~JWFarrington)
Note: A version of this review appears in Bookbrowse.com.
In past years, the Chief Penguin and I have made it a goal to see as many of the Best Picture Oscar nominations as possible. More recently, we’ve been slackers, but we might see a few of them between now and the March awards.
Marty with paddle (wsj.com)
We are fans of Timothée Chalamet since seeing him in Call Me by Your Name and Lady Bird, both films of 2017. As the star of Marty Supreme, he gave us a good excuse to walk downtown to the cozy Cary theater for an afternoon show. Chalamet plays Marty Mauser, an overconfident young man out to achieve fame as a star ping pong player, and he was fabulous! He most certainly deserves his nomination for Best Actor.
The film actually has a total of 9 award nominations including Best Picture and Best Director. Did I love the film? No, not really. It is fast-paced and intense, with one lively scene after another like a ping pong ball ricocheting back and forth across the game table. Set in the 1950’s and supposedly inspired by a real ping pong player, it has little in the way of character development or a moral arc. Perhaps that makes it more realistic.
Marty is perennially supremely confident, arrogant even, ever ready to make a deal and get what he wants with little to no effort. He’s also careless with other people’s feelings, including his sometime girlfriend’s. But then, it’s a sports film, and Marty is always hankering after the next major tournament (in Japan, perhaps) and scheming to find the money to get there. He has no real job and no long-range plans.
The tournament scenes are dizzying and a technical feat. The soundtrack is appropriately heavy or boisterous as needed, and Gwyneth Paltrow has a touching role as actress Kay Stone, trying for her own comeback. I wanted Marty to get his comeuppance and so found the ending disappointing. Overall, I give it a qualified recommendation as more of a guy’s film.
READING: MARRIAGE UPENDED
Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage by Belle Burden
Burden (nyt.com)
Author Belle Burden is the product of a socially prominent wealthy family. Her grandmother was Babe Paley, magazine editor and socialite wife of William, founder and CEO of CBS. Burden’s mother, Amanda, is an urban planner who was director of city planning in New York under Mayor Bloomberg. It is not surprising then that Belle, a young lawyer, met and married another rich, preppy lawyer. He too was socially connected.
Over two decades together, they had three children, and he flourished in his career, while she mostly gave up working, tending to the household and the kids’ lives. During Covid, she learned James was having an affair. Confronted, he announced the next day that he wanted a divorce and didn’t want nor care about shared custody of their children.
Strangersis Burden’s account of her shock and disbelief, her struggle to pull herself together, and her probing reflections on why and what motivated husband James to cut himself off so completely. The book grew out of a column she wrote for “Modern Love” in the New York Times.
She is candid in sharing her personal shortcomings, reveals James’ in-it-for- himself approach to money and family, and doesn’t stint on describing how difficult the divorce proceedings were. Yet she genuinely loved this man and so retains some kindness toward him. What I found striking was how much she became a 1950’s traditional wife after the arrival of the children, knowing nothing about their family finances and not asking any questions about them. It’s a very engaging quick read and I recommend it. (~JWFarrington)
COOKING: IN THE KITCHEN WITH A MEAL KIT
Recently, the Chief Penguin and I re-discovered how much we like the Fresh Market stores. We regularly shopped at our local one in Florida. The Fresh Market in Cary is bigger and nicer with tempting deli salads, a wide variety of ethnic sauces, pickles, and spices, and a cheese case that comes close to rivaling Wegmans.
Photo on kit package
This time we surrendered to the temptation of one of their Market Meal Kits, specifically the Thai Coconut Chicken Rice Bowl. There were several choices ranging from flank steak to Korean barbeque, but this one piqued our fancy. I’ve never prepared one of these meal kits before and was surprised and pleased by the freshness of the ingredients, the sturdy plastic box containing each item separately wrapped, and the straightforward directions.
Even the olive oil for sautéing was included, along with a small packet of seasoning. The vegetables, broccoli mostly with some onion, shredded carrots, and a few onion pieces and snap peas, are stir fried and set aside. While you cook the chicken, the rice packet goes into the microwave for its cooking. Then add veggies and the coconut sauce to the chicken and voila, in a minute or two you have a complete dish to serve over the rice. Start to finish without any pauses, it takes just 15 minutes.
The resulting dish was delicious, nicely spiced, and not salty! We enjoyed it, and not being big eaters, had some leftover for lunch. We look forward to trying other kits.
