ISLE OF HOPE. ISLE OF TEARS

My wife and I just completed the most glorious vacation of our entire lives.

We have traveled the highways and byways of Ireland, Northern Ireland and Scotland. We have gazed in wonder at the snow-capped mountains, we have marveled at the singular color of the lush grassy pastures; upon which sheep and cattle feed, we have listened to the mournful sound of the bagpipes, and watched Scottish and Irish dancers strut their stuff, we have sampled foods which baffle the taste buds, we have interacted with the loveliest people to grace the planet, we have walked the quaint lanes and admired the most colorful and interesting of flora and fauna.

Dublin and its massive cathedrals and ancient pubs. The stone ruins of a monastic village. Forty shades of green. 19^th century remnants of the “Famine Houses.” Sea gulls and ocean waves. A Depression-era farm house. Dingle Bay. Massive castles. The Massacre of the MacDonald Clan. The English Occupation of Ireland, and the cruelty they exercised. The Potato Famine. The “Trouble” of Northern Ireland. Sharing “Danny Boy” and “Amazing Grace” with our amazing group of fellow travelers. The Titanic Museum. Drunken and aimless young adults. Street Beggars. Waterford Crystal. A mythical, but very real island. Greyfriar’s Bobby. Sheep shearing. Edinburgh’s pipers. Family roots.


One of the most poignant, and almost magical moments which I experienced during our trip to the Old Country occurred at a dinner theater in Dublin referred to as “Taylor’s Three Rock.” During the course of the evening my daughter and I were afforded some wonderful food, singing, dancing and comedy. However, as I have previously implied, one moment stood out from all the rest.


Pt. 2


Almost without warning, a video appeared on the overhead screen which featured numerous ancient photographs of 19^th century men, women and children, immigrants all, ships, mountains, rivers, ocean waves, the Statue of Liberty, and Ellis Island, the proverbial (and literal) gateway to the golden door which was and continues to be America.

But “what got me,” what really grabbed me and would not let me go, what struck a spine-tingling cord within me, and inspired my innate sensibilities was the music which accompanied the video.


Isle of Hope. Isle of Tears

On the first day of January 1892
They opened Ellis Island and they let the people through
And the first to cross the threshold of that isle of hope and tears
Was Annie Moore from Ireland who was all of 15 years

Isle of hope, isle of tears
Isle of freedom, isle of fears
But it’s not the isle you left behind
That isle of hunger, isle of pain
Isle you’ll never see again
But the isle of home is always on your mind

I’d never heard the song before, but I can so identify with it. While most or all of my immediate ancestors immigrated to the United States in the 17^th, 18^th and 19^th centuries, before there was an Ellis Island, they came nonetheless; in most cases, leaving all they ever knew and held so dear. Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, friends, homes and land. And in most cases, those who boarded those old triple-masted ships were left with mental images of what was, and would never be again, and they never returned to the lands from whence they sprang.


As the video and its accompanying melody continued, tears sprang to my eyes, and, subsequently, rolled down my cheeks.

In a little bag, she carried all her past and history
And her dreams for the future in the land of liberty
And courage is the passport when your old world disappears
But there’s no future in the past when you’re 15 years

Isle of hope, isle of tears
Isle of freedom, isle of fears
But it’s not the isle you left behind
That isle of hunger, isle of pain
Isle you’ll never see again
But the isle of home is always on your mind

Pt. 3

I, as was my father before me, am an amateur genealogist, and I love and care deeply for those who have gone on before; though all they left to us were a few sundry bits of information, and fading celluloid photographs. There was a time when they lived, and moved and breathed and loved. They were here, and we were not. And we owe them our very existence, and our own ability to live and breathe and move, as they did before us. And having dared fate, braved the elements, and stared down fear, every man, woman and child among them grasped their providential destinies, and endured ‘til the end.

My 3x great Grandfather Isham McDonald, born in Ireland of Scottish parents, who left it all behind, including his dear papa and mama, “set up shop” in South Carolina, and served in the fledgling Continental Army throughout the American Revolution.

My 3x great Grandmother Mary Elizabeth Stewart, born on the Isle of Skye, Scotland in the 17^th century, who as a young lass dared journey to a place she knew little or nothing about, and which lay across four thousand miles of turbulent ocean. Never to return to the island of her birth, nor to friends and family whom she held so dear. And on those rough-hewn wooden docks, she left a hundred kisses on their cheeks.

My 9x great Grandfather Daniel Mackhoe, of Edinburgh, a Jacobite; one of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s men. Old Dan fought at the Battle of Dunbar, and having been taken prisoner by the British was led on a forced march to a distant stockade; during which time thousands of his compatriots died. Ultimately, my ancient Grandfather was involuntary consigned to the ship, “John and Sara” and was adopted by the most bless-ed country which ever graced this planet.

When they closed down Ellis Island in 1943
17 million people had come there for sanctuary
And in springtime when I came here and I stepped onto its piers
I thought of how it must have been when you’re 15 years

Isle of hope, isle of tears
Isle of freedom, isle of fears
But it’s not the isle you left behind
That isle of hunger, isle of pain
Isle you’ll never see again

But the isle of home is always on your mind

But the isle of home is always on your mind

Pt. 4

I brought up the “Celtic Woman” version of, “Isle of Hope. Isle of Tears” today, and without notice tears sprang to my eyes, and I could not contain the sobs which rose in my throat! My wife was standing nearby and uttered an “ahhhh,” and bent down to hug me. And before she was close enough to extend her sympathetic arms, my little pooch drew near, and gazed at me like she’d lost her dearest friend. She just knew I was experiencing one of the most singular moments of my life.


While we were in Ireland, and Northern Ireland and Scotland my mind was taken up with my known and unknown grandfathers and grandmothers, as it never was before.


I left a tribute to each of them in the form of a simple note on the face of a dollar bill; which recounted their names and lives, and whatever else to which I was privy; along with my name and relationship to them.

And with this, I secreted the bill beneath a desk, or bureau, or bedstead in the room to which we were assigned, and in the applicable country with which my forefathers were most and best acquainted.


And whereas, I left a piece of my heart, and a paltry bit of cash behind, my dear grandfathers and grandmothers surrendered all their heart, and the losses they sustained cannot be calculated.


And whereas, these never returned to the peoples and homes and lands they knew and loved so well, I think, in essence, I have returned in their place.

Isle of hope, isle of tears
Isle of freedom, isle of fears
But it’s not the isle you left behind
That isle of hunger, isle of pain
Isle you’ll never see again

But the isle of home is always on your mind

But the isle of home is always on your mind

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending 

JUST A MOMENT AGO

Unlike a large percentage of son-in-law’s, I liked my mother-in-law.

Ruby wasn’t what I would call a conversationalist. But, as you might imagine, when she said something, she had something to say, and everyone listened. For her family knew that when she opened her mouth to speak, something interesting, insightful or intelligent would come out.

And witty! Ruby was perhaps the wittiest person I ever met. There is the story about a phone call she received when she was a middle-aged housewife. The conversation went very much like the following paraphrase:

“Hello?”

“Hi. This is Arthur Murray Studio.”

“Yes, what can I do for you?”

“Hello, ma’am. We would like to introduce ourselves, and provide you three free dance lessons.”

(And without so much as a moment’s pause, Ruby responded).

“I’m sorry, honey. I only have one leg!”

I can report that the solicitor quickly bid his apologetic farewells, and hung up.

Pt. 2

Ruby was born in 1916, two years before a dreaded ogre stalked the earth, and did its worst among a significant percentage of the world’s inhabitants.

“The Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918, the deadliest in history, infected an estimated 500 million people worldwide, about one-third of the planet’s population, and killed an estimated 50 to 100 million victims, including some 675,000 Americans. The 1918 flu was first observed in Europe, the United States, and parts of Asia before swiftly spreading around the world.

At the time, there were no effective drugs or vaccines to treat this killer flu strain. Citizens were ordered to wear masks, schools, theaters and businesses were shuttered, and bodies piled up in makeshift morgues before the virus ended its deadly global march.”

Ruby’s father, my grandfather-in-law, John Quincy Weeks, a healthy, vibrant 26 year old man, succumbed to the pandemic; just ten days prior to the end of WWI. He left his wife and family through no fault of his own, and when the little orphan was older, and cognizant enough to recount her childhood memories, her father was not one of them.

Does my previous description of the Spanish Flu Pandemic “ring a bell?” Is there anything about it which sounds remotely familiar?

A full hundred years after that insidious flu pandemic was conquered in 1920, the world is experiencing something very much like it; in fact, the greatest, most wide-spread, most virulent  pandemic in exactly a century.

Even as I type these words, the world has already experienced over a million cases of Coronavirus, 300,000 of which are in the United States, and it has been conjectured that, before it’s over, as many as two million U.S. citizens may succumb to the virus.

Like forty other states, our governor just issued a “Shelter in Place” order. The restaurants, theaters, beaches and parks are closed for business, and other than a few excepted vocations, Florida’s and most of America’s workforce has been mandated to stay home.

Pt. 3

In his briefing yesterday, our president encouraged “the whole lot” of us to wear masks, and you see more, and more people wearing them, as you visit the grocery stores, or take-out restaurants.

I have seen several news reports which feature small business establishments in the process of producing masks. My own sister-in-law, Sue, has been making masks for herself, and other family members; (which is very much appreciated, indeed). I especially like the mask she gave her sister, (my wife) which features images of the Statue of Liberty and our beloved American flag.

In the past couple of days, my wife was going through the contents of Ruby’s antique Singer sewing machine, and came across what I would refer to as a “poignant find;” something my dear mother-in-law left behind.

A bag full of elastic

And it occurred to her that what Ruby left inside that old sewing machine decades ago was for “just such a time as this.” (Esther 4:14)

No sooner had Jean come across this treasure, than she contacted her sister, and offered her the precious commodity. I say “precious” since not only is toilet paper at a premium during this season, but you just can’t find any elastic in the craft shops.

Of course, Sue began to crank out more face masks utilizing the elastic strips from her mother’s ancient stash. And I think she must have felt a great deal of satisfaction, in essence, bringing her mother into a project which not only hearkens back to the past, the century old flu pandemic, and the loss of her own father, but to the present and the deepening season in which her own beloved children and grandchildren find themselves.

John Quincy, and millions of others who lived and moved and breathed at that time walked the shadowy, bending path which stretched before them, and just as it came, it came to pass. 

And given the testing and resiliency of those who have gone on before us, and the common challenges with which we presently contend, somehow it seems hardly more than a moment ago.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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LET ME RUN WITH YOU A WHILE

Back when I was a member of the National Guard, I was participating in the required annual two mile run, and struggling a bit. Suddenly, a faster runner prepared to go around me, and said, 

"Let me run with you a while." 

As a result I knew he was sacrificing himself and his time for me. He ran a few hundred yards alongside me, cheering me on, and finally said, 

"See you at the finish line" and dashed on ahead. 

We all need someone stronger and faster to run along side of us "a while"; to encourage us, and cheer us on. 

I choose to be such a person.

THE LORD IS RIDING WITH ME

There was a preacher who lived in the mountains of North Carolina who was well known for his "lead foot." It seems everywhere he went, he drove far too fast.

Of course, his friends were concerned about Pastor Bob since he was always riding the side of cliffs, as he negotiated the mountain curves.

One day Bill was on his way up a particular mountain, and spied Preacher Bob about a hundred yards ahead. Suddenly, the good reverend sailed off a cliff, rolled down the side of the mountain, and came to rest under a tree. Then, much to Bill's horror, the car caught fire.

Running down the mountain, and just before he reached the preacher's automobile, Bill saw the preacher crawl out of the window.

Now, Bill spoke.

"Preacher, preacher, are you alright?

To whic the parson replied, 

"Well, yes that ya, Bill. The Lord is riding with me!"

To which Bill responded,

"Well,  you better let Him ride with me before you kill Him!"

SPEAK ENGLISH!!!

A married couple from the states who I know traveled to Scotland to attend a wedding. As they were driving in the Highlands one night a Scottish policeman pulled their car over for some minor infraction. 

As the cop stood at the driver's window, and begin to speak, my friend Jeff had no idea what he was saying. Finally Jeff said, "Speak English!" To which the magistrate replied, "I am!"

FALLING OFF A HORSE

Well, I'm in the emergency room now. Ugh!! 😢 Today was not a good day at all. I decided to go horseback riding, to ease the boredom... something I haven't done in awhile. It turned out to be a big mistake!

I got on the horse and started out fine. Nice and slow, but then we went a little faster. Before I knew it, we were going as fast as the horse could go. I couldn't take the pace and fell off. I caught my foot in the stirrup with the horse dragging me. It wouldn't stop. Hit my head, banged up my back and elbow, pretty good and tore my shirt.

Thank goodness the kind manager at Dollar General came out and unplugged the machine. But, he had the nerve to take the rest of my change so I wouldn't ride the Elephant or Motorcycle. I was also banned from the Merry-go-round. The nerve!

How many of you actually read what I wrote? If you did, copy and paste for someone else to get a laugh! Haha - we all need a laugh now and then!

Borrowed from a friend!!!!!

CURIOUS & MISCELLANEOUS PERSONAL PERSUASIONS RELATED TO THE CORONAVIRUS

1. The number of American Coronavirus's on the TV screen each day lists the total cases since the pandemic began here, rather than the total number of present-tense, active cases. (Some people have gotten well, and some have died).

2. They would never say so, but people such as Brian Williams, the host of "The 11th Hour" on the liberal cable network, MS-NBC, will almost assuredly vote for Donald Trump in the upcoming election. After all, his $10 million per year "Bash Trump" job depends on the president remaining in office for another four years.

3. If Donald Trump loses the next election, the liberal cable channels, MS-NBC and CNN, will be forced to go back to common domestic and world news type programming; since their current design is to criticize everything the Republican administration says and does. They simply will not conduct a similar vendetta against a Democratic administration.

4. While Donald Trump is far from perfect, even a broken clock is right twice a day. If you believe everything you hear on the liberal cable networks, a broken clock "trumps Trump."

5. Then there is the FOX News Network which would, no doubt, conduct similar programming as MS-NBC and CNN does today; should a Democrat be elected in November.

6. And lest anyone think I am biased either way. I wrote my own name in on the national ballot in the last election, and intend to do so again this time around. (I kept waiting for the Secret Service to park in my driveway in 2016, and tell me Air Force One was waiting to fly me to D.C. to assume my prestigious office, but it never happened. I suppose I can tell my grandchildren I ran for president twice. It's a safe bet that I will lose again).

7. Recently, a couple of large churches have defied civil orders not to hold worship services, and the pastors have been subjected to criticism and arrest. They claim they are practicing Freedom of Religion. However, scripture reminds us to obey those in authority over us. And on a practical basis, the health and welfare of a society must be the overriding factor when it comes to whether a group of people fill up a building. The Church doesn't not cease to be the Church just because wisdom dictates they watch a church service on TV, or a computer monitor.

8. Oddly enough, while a Shelter in Place order has just been issued in Florida, Governor Desantis is currently allowing churches to conduct worship services, if they so choose; with the exception of a few counties which have issued more stringent orders in this regard. (It appears to this writer that allowing churches to remain open flies in the face of the whole intention of the order to halt the spread of the virus).

9. Gasoline prices have fallen to their lowest level in many years. At the moment, the price of gasoline in Florida hovers around $1.85 per gallon.

10. The national unemployment rate in the U.S. is expected to reach or exceed a third of the working population.

11. The stimulus package which congress has approved involves the expenditure of 2 Trillion dollars; for all intents federally approved counterfeit money.

12. Ultimately, nothing escapes God's awareness and oversight. Believers can take comfort in the fact that God is in control of their lives, that we live and move and breathe at His pleasure, and that we will be here 'til He decides to take us to our eternal home.

by William McDonald, PhD