Why I got thrown out of an Irish pub

About being tossed out of a pub … It was 1979, and I was living with my uncle on our family’s farm in County Roscommon. I needed a break from haymaking and cutting turf, so I hitch-hiked to Roscrea in County Tipperary to spend some time at Mount Saint Joseph Abbey.

There, I met two lads from the North — Jerry Ward and Jerry McGurk. McGurk was a survivor of the horrific Ulster Volunteer Force’s bombing of his family’s pub, which killed his mother, sister, and thirteen others.

The other Jerry was, well, a bit unstable. Ward saw himself as one called to reunite the Protestant and Catholic communities in the war-torn North — a noble goal, but one accompanied by delusional tactics.

The three of us had many a great talk during our time at the Abbey. Toward the end of my stay, we decided a trip to one of Roscrea’s pubs was in order. There, we enjoyed a rollicking, boisterous time chatting it up with other lads in the back of the pub. Continue Reading →

The Nuclear Threat

I really hate talking about this, and I imagine you do, too. But let’s be adults. Humanity has a nuclear weapons problem that could wipe out everything — yes, everything! Americans were more woke (yeah, I said woke) about the nuclear threat back in the 1980s.

Real change was accomplished at that time, including a ban on nuclear testing, in large part because of the huge global, grassroots movement to end the nuclear arms race.

It was fear of nuclear war that compelled me to become politically active in 1984. I was farming my family’s ancestral land in Ireland that year. In between planting potatoes and making hay, I participated in protests organized by Irish Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament against then-president Ronald Reagan’s unsuccessful proposal to station nuclear missiles in Ireland. Continue Reading →