Irish America

Irish America

By Edythe Preet April / May 1999

Sláinte! The Sweet Sting of Spring

By Edythe Preet

April / May 1999

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Some foods simply beg to be eaten. Take peaches, for instance. The scent of a ripe peach is pure ambrosia. The pungent smell of tomatoes ripened on the vine and warm from the sun is irresistible. Chocolate's rich bouquet is almost sexy. And the aroma of a Sunday roast sparks appetites the whole time it's cooking. Certain other foods don't have a real come-hitherness about … [Read more...] about Sláinte! The Sweet Sting of Spring

God Said, “Ha!”

By Joseph McBride

April / May 1999

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First, a confession. I once urged Julia Sweeney not to become an actress. Luckily, Julia disregarded that advice and went on to become, as she calls herself, "a woman of many media." Most people know her best from her four years on TV's Saturday Night Live, where she created the endearingly goofy, mysteriously androgynous Pat, or from the 1994 movie version, It's Pat, which she … [Read more...] about God Said, “Ha!”

Sláinte! A Fine Cuppa Tay

By Edythe Preet, Columnist
June / July 2000

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When I was a child, I suspected my Da's sister Violet was a gypsy. Not that she was a real descendant of the wandering tribes of Egypt, but she looked like one. Her jet-black hair was always tied back in a tight bun, and she always wore blowsy flowered dresses, scandalous crimson lipstick and dangly earrings. Then while we were visiting one cold and blustery winter Sunday when … [Read more...] about Sláinte! A Fine Cuppa Tay

The Last Word: Forget Me Not

By Charles E. Orser Jr., the curator of Historical Archaeology, New York State Museum, Albany and Adjunct Professor, National University of Ireland, Galway.
June / July 2010

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Archaeology sites expose hidden history of the Famine The Famine rests within Irish memory on many levels and is told with diverse voices. With each passing year, as the stories of those terrible years recede further into history, the Famine becomes slightly more intangible, less real to our modern minds. The archaeology of the Famine challenges our views on that awful … [Read more...] about The Last Word: Forget Me Not

Jack Moran on Tar Beach

Text and photos submitted by Margaret "Peggy" Phelan of Willingboro, New Jersey. Originally published in
June / July 2010 , republished in Fall 2024

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My father Jack Moran arrived in New York on April 5th, 1923. He was from Athea, a small village in County of Limerick. He loved New York. And Brooklyn. My mother was born in Kerry but raised in Limerick but she didn’t meet my father until she came to the States in 1927.  The Irish in New York would all get together for parties and they met at one of those parties. My mother … [Read more...] about Jack Moran on Tar Beach