Titanic is on the visual tube this evening. Irish roots have touched my life again. Viewing the movie makes me want that life in the flesh. Makes me want to live my grandfather's life. The grandfather who's father came over on the boat from the green isle.
I never knew my grandfather. . .James McCann.
I want to know my history. . before I die. I want to learn where, why, who we were on the Irish side.
Imagine a film slicing the cupboard thin on the walk of life. Class avenues... "start from the outside and work yourself in". ...such is the classic dining room etiquette.
God's good humor. But, not. Life, is it a game of luck? Or a game of birth?
I was born of the Irish bloodline. Such a bloodline was second to the very hell that is the negro. . according to my father. Being Irish in America was not second class, but third class hell. To date a young woman across the classes was not allowed. My daddy, he ..my hero, he.
So, we are all subject to hatred, sadly.
Skin color/religion/political view/gender? Such walls of terror. But we have overcome such blasts that distance the soul in such sorry routines. . . have we not? Or maybe not.
The Gap can only be reunited through music.
Little do we know that music is the only purity there is.... dance is the instrument the only instrument that allows for one to find her way into the heart of the matter ----into the heart of her very life.
Irish music. Ahh, Gaelic, such fun. That's the tone of the movie Titanic. I love this film. I love this history that is mine.
Class figures dance. Third class dancers die, sadly.
Have we not learned to dance in 100 years?
