On March 17th I typically write a post contemplating my obscure Irish roots while celebrating the novelty of my grandfather’s middle name: St. Patrick. Yes. For real. No one knows why, my down-east North Carolina Methodist Granddaddy hated it, and by my lifetime he’d legally changed it to the initial S.
I love the uniqueness of it. I cannot let the day pass without saying that Columbus St. Patrick Brantley’s name remains a treasure to me, a jewel in my family’s living memory, a perpetual mystery in our supposed non-Catholic history.
Here is where I diverge from my norm to chase, not a name, but a word: jewels. In keeping with the day, of course. The first jewel I’m after is brilliant language, and the Irish are rich in that. It glimmers in every bit of their wit, storytelling, poetry, and song.
In 1996, Frank McCourt’s memoir Angela’s Ashes burst upon the world and won the Pulitzer Prize. As soon as I learned of the book, I had to have it. Reviewers raved about McCourt’s narrative voice: Stunning. Lyrical. Dazzling.
So I got my own copy. From page one…spellbinding. My concepts of writing and memoir were forever changed; McCourt’s Irish voice has never left my head.
Of his many glorious phrases, one that returns to me most often comes from the scene where young Frank is in the hospital recovering from typhoid fever. In the room next door is a girl recovering from diphtheria. They can’t see each other, but she calls out to him. She says she has a book about the history of England with her, if he’d like to read it. He does. Books are treasures to him; his impoverished family doesn’t own any. The girl sends the book to him via the nurse, Seamus, who delivers it most reluctantly, complaining because it’s about England “after all they did to us” and that there “isn’t a history of Ireland to be had in this hospital.”
McCourt writes:
The book has the first bit of Shakespeare I ever read:
I do believe, induced by potent circumstances
That thou art mine enemy.
...I don’t know what it means and I don’t care because it’s Shakespeare and it’s like jewels in my mouth when I say the words.
Jewels in my mouth…
I knew exactly what he means. I loved Shakespeare from my own first encounter. The last line of Sonnet 73 is the heartbeat of most everything I do in life, certainly of the things I write: To love that well, which thou must leave ere long. Jewels in my mouth, in my heart…the bequest of beautiful language.
McCourt eventually left Ireland for America where he became a high school English teacher. He’d regale his classes with stories of his childhood, and they’d say Hey Mr. McCourt, you should write a book.
So he did.
Angela’s Ashes.
And so the world is changed.
That is the power of story.
That is the second jewel from McCourt: Story. Specifically, writing of your own life.
In his final memoir, Teacher Man, he’s become a creative writing teacher. He’s trying to inspire students to write about their lives when they think there’s nothing interesting to say. He tells them: Every moment of your life, you are writing. Even in your dreams, you’re writing…Dreaming, wishing, planning: it’s all writing, but the difference between you and the man on the street is that you are looking for it…realizing the significance of the insignificant, getting it on paper. You might be in the throes of love or grief but you are ruthless in observation. You are your material. You are writers and one thing is certain: no matter what happens, you’ll never be bored again. Never…nothing human is alien to you.
Jewels. Your words, your story, your every moment. All priceless.
I met Frank McCourt in the winter of 2000 when he visited North Carolina State University. I went despite a falling snow. I took my oldest son with me and we listened to McCourt speak of his books and devastating childhood in Ireland. We listened, and marveled. We listened, and wondered about the story of our own origins on The Emerald Isle.
Which brings me to my final set of jewels for today: Christmas before last, my husband gave me a necklace and ring. His sister, without knowing or discussing it with him, gave me earrings. The jewelry, all bearing my birthstone, emerald, are a startling match. My sister-in-law chose the jewelry for me because she loves the color. My husband said, These are to remind you that one day, I’ll take you Ireland.
Where, I imagine, the voices of my distant ancestors still whisper in the wind…perhaps when I go, if I am very still, I might hear them…learn from them…
Until then, and always, I shall be about the excavation of my own story-jewels, with McCourt’s words echoing in my brain and my curious link to St. Patrick forever pulling at my heart.
As for today… here’s to proudly wearin’ o’ the green.
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Composed for Day 17 of the Slice of Life Story Challenge with Two Writing Teachers
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Works cited:
McCourt, Frank. Angela’s Ashes: A Memoir. New York, Scribner, 1996. (Pages 195-196)
McCourt, Frank. Teacher Man: A Memoir. New, York, Scribner, 2005. (Pages 244-246)
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Love this post, Fran! I remember you writing about your grandfather’s name last year. What a wonderful story to tell. I also avidly read Frank McCourt’s Angela’s Ashes. It is stunning. I loved the part when it rains so much that their first floor flooded and they had to move upstairs, which their father called “Italy.” ”Come up to Italy,” he’d exclaim. Such a shame that McCourt left us too soon. I’m sure there were many more stories in him. Your writing is so careful and so eloquent – like jewels in the mouth!
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You lift my heart so with your words, Joanne – here and in your poems and your own shared stories of life. I would love to write as lyrically as McCourt. Some passages are raw and explicit but his craft and storytelling are breathtaking. He taught me the power of writing in present tense. i marvel anew upon every reread.
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You captured an incredible feeling with this slice — that of discovering a writer who will leave an impact on you for the first time. Thank you for reminding me of this book, which I read too many years ago, and for quoting his wise words from Teacher Man, which I never read but should. Happy St. Patrick’s Day to you!
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Amy, thank you so much for this meaningful response! I suspect you’d really enjoy Teacher Man. I will reread Angela’s Ashes now that I’ve taken it off the shelf again. McCourt autographed my copy on that night I went to hear him speak, so it’s a treasure on multiple levels. Thank you for the wishes – Happy St. Patrick’s Day to you also! My husband and went out for a buffet lunch at an Irish restaurant, and it was great. 🙂
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Fran, what wonderful words and stories and feelings you weave as you tell the stories and events and moments of your life. I did remember from last year or year before, or both, that your grandfather’s original middle name was St. Patrick. All my friends who know me well can never believe that I have not read Angela’s Ashes as much as I love books, particularly memoirs. I still haven’t read it, but now I’m going to. I’ve had the book on the shelf for years – today I will open it. Thank you for pushing me to want to, finally. The story of your jewelry and how it came to you is one of those times when you know divine actions are at work. I, too, would love to visit Ireland someday. I wear the fragrance of the sea called Inis anytime I wear cologne. It is supposed to be like Irish seas, and it’s light enough that it’s practically the only fragrance I can wear without giving my colleagues a headache. Lovely post today! I loyd your way with words.
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Kim, for some reason a bunch of comments landed in my spam folder, and this was one. I fixed it all and am now working like madness to catch up…thank you for every beautiful thought here. I am delighted to think you will dust off your copy of Angela’s Ashes and read it. I believe you’ll love it… the prose will send your heart soaring and then will shatter it…as will the story. McCourt writes like a poet. Would you believe… I have a bottle of Inis on my dresser? I love the fragrance almost as much as the idea of it being of the Irish sea!
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Your writing, your noticing, the quotes from McCourt…jewels. Thanks for this affirmation of teaching, writing, the teaching of writing and how encouragement is key.
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Thank you always for YOUR affirmations, Margaret – I treasure them! Yes – in all of the above, encouragement is key. It is a key to life itself.
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Fran, your post today is a jewel. I hope you get to visit Ireland soon, and wow, getting to hear Frank McCourt in person must have been an unforgettable experience. Wonderful job of connecting jewels throughout your post and I adore your Christmas jewelry gifts. I’m sure you wear them well!
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Thank you so much, Barb, for this response. I didn’t mention in the Slice, but McCourt autographed my copy of Angela’s Ashes for me. It’s truly a treasure, on so many levels.
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Wow! Fantastic!
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Fran, You have crafted such a beautiful and inspiring post. For one, your structure made me want to read on. I wanted to hunt down all your jewels. Such a great metaphor!
You gifts us with several profound quotes and have enticed me to return to McCourt’s books. My husband read Angela’s Ashes and like it so much, he read too much of it aloud to me, so I never picked it up. I did read Teacher Man, loved it and will now revisit this “jewel”.
Your words and phrases sing like “Jewels in my mouth, in my heart…the bequest of beautiful language.” Well done!
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Thank you for this treasure of a comment, Rita! Do read Angela’s Ashes for yourself when you can, to linger over McCourt’s lyrical words. Now that I took the book off the shelf (by the way, he autographed it for me) – I will reread before replacing. Thank you again for this meaningful response.
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Fran – I am sorry not to have stumbled upon your slices sooner. This slice is absolutely gorgeous! The theme of the jewels throughout, your rich and beautiful language, your retelling of McCourt’s story of what writers do – all of it enthralled and inspired me. I am adding McCourt to my TBR (I have of course heard of Angela’s Ashes but never read it) AND I am adding you to my reading list. Looking forward to more of your slices! Thanks for this lovely green jewel of a slice today.
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Thank you so much for this lovely response! I’ve just discovered several comments in my spam folder – yours was one. So odd; I’ve never had this issue before. I just fixed it, so all is well and posted. Now I am catching up! I just wanted you to know how meaningful your words are to me – I treasure them. Do read Angela’s Ashes and let McCourt’s wit and lyrical language sweep you away…if you read it, I’d love to know!
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I listened to Angela’s Ashes which I believe was read by Frank McCourt. Your post makes me want to pick up the book so I can savor the language. Think of all the slicers who will be picking up this book again. And now I want to read Teacher Man too.
I treasure these words from your post and plan to share them with our memoir group: “Jewels. Your words, your story, your every moment. All priceless.”
Thanks, Fran, for your words.
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Ramona, thanks so much for emailing to let me know your comment hadn’t posted. Turns out there were several comments that hadn’t posted – and every one, a jewel! I think you’ll enjoy Teacher Man – my spring break starts next week and I plan to reread both books. I so appreciate your amazing thoughtfulness and this response – YOU are a jewel!
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Thanks again for the depth and comparisons and contrasts in your slice. I love the phrase ‘jewels in the mouth’. I am ashamed that I read Angela’s Ashes and don’t remember that phrase. It is perfect. I do remember that he was a stunning writer. I am also ashamed that I lived next door to Ireland for so many years and never visited. I think the thought of so much rain put me off, although that’s a poor excuse. I do love Shakespeare too; I am supposedly named after Celia in As You Like It.
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