SIBLINGS

 
Me in the arms of my oldest sibling, Tommy, to our right brother Jimmy who we called Buddy, to our left William, who we called by his middle name, Robert, sisters Joan, and Irene, closest to me in age but still separated by five years during which our brother John was born and died shortly afterward.

This looks like Easter, April 1945, Tommy in the Army Air Corps in a squadron getting ready to join the war in Europe to reinforce the bombing of Berlin but Germany would surrender in a few weeks so he'd never leave the States, while Buddy was about to leave for the Navy and end up in Okinawa when Japan surrendered. 

They're all gone, just me left and still squirming to be let free.

HAPPY SAINT PADDY'S

A trinity of some favorite Irish movies double features popped into my head and here 'tis:

BLACK 47 & THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY

THE SECRET OF  ROAN INISH (with one of  the other Michael Lallys) & THE QUIET GIRL

THE COMMITMENTS & ONCE 

NEW POEMS

 Two new poems of mine in Innisfree Poetry Journal 40. Thanks to editor Greg McBride, and to Terence Winch (who's got great poems in this issue) for connecting us. Check it out:

INNISFREEPOETRY.ORG

Michael Lally – Innisfree Poetry Journal

TRANS RIGHTS

 
I have had trans friends since childhood, and trans lovers since my late twenties, as well as times when I felt transgender identification of my own, and I have an adult trans grandchild, so I have little to no tolerance for any judgment or criticism or discrimination against trans people or limitations on what they feel is best for their health, happiness, and well being. 

As a wise person said to me more than once: There's two kinds of business, mine and none of mine. And what a trans person feels is best for them is none of mine. The current scapegoating of trans people for political advantage used by the trolls in charge must be opposed by all freedom loving people, or just plain loving people.

ME TOO

 

FOUND ON THE INTERNET

 

TBTRIP

That's me in the flowery shirt, my three brothers to my right, Tommy (by then a Franciscan friar renamed Campion), Jimmy (known in the family as Buddy), and William (called by his middle name Robert). In front of me sit my mother Irene (ne Dempsey), and her mother (my widowed grandma Dempsey who lived with us), and down front (from my right) Robert's wife (ne Marie Fennessy known to all as Sis), Buddy's wife Catherine (ne Audia) with their baby Cathy on her lap, my sisters Joan and Irene, and our father (Jimmy). All gone now except for me.

YET ANOTHER LIST

 My constant lifelong compulsive list making in my head, and poetry, subsided after my 2009 brain operation, but lists still randomly unexpectedly pop up in my mind like in this case while eating lunch, top ten movies whose titles begin with "THE LAST" (maybe prompted by so much coming to an end) (and despite my now finding much about some of these movies cringey) 

THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS

THE LAST EMPEROR

THE LAST WALTZ

THE LAST PICTURE SHOW

THE LAST DETAIL

THE LAST OF SHEILA

THE LAST SAMURAI

THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST

THE LAST KING OF SCOTLAND

THE LAST HURRAH

TRAGEDY

Something heartbreakingly tragic is happening somewhere in the world all the time. To paraphrase artist/writer Joe Brainard writing about history, almost every day is the anniversary of something awful.

The LA firestorms are awful, something heartbreakingly tragic for those experiencing them in person. Some of whom are friends of mine who have lost their homes and everything in them, or are waiting at wherever they evacuated to, to find out if their homes still exist or not.

My heart goes out to all of them, and everyone impacted by these fires, as it does to all those around the world experiencing heartbreaking tragedy in their lives.

AGAIN AND AGAIN

 
[I think they mean 'unknown']