Public Rights Of Way

The light of evening, Lissadell,
Great windows open to the south,
Two girls in silk kimonos, both
Beautiful, one a gazelle.

With those words, William Butler Yeats memorialized the country house in Sligo where Irish revolutionaries Eva Gore-Booth and her sister Constance Markiewicz grew up and grew away from their privileged way of life.

One elegant home, appealing to both literary and historical interests. Edward Walsh and his wife Constance Cassidy purchased Lissadell House from a descendant of the two sisters and turned it into a tourist attraction. They became the caretakers of a residence filled with ghosts of poets and rebels, not to turn a profit but to cover the exorbitant costs of a dream they were happy to share.

The new owners felt that they had to control access to the grounds. After all, an old house requires a boatload of money to maintain, and what tourist would pay to see the facade and grounds if they could simply walk around at no cost?

It's the concept of public rights of way, in which the common folk can walk across someone's property. In a recently decided court case, Mr. Justice Bryan McMahon determined that people had been using roads through the grounds since at least the 1950's, and that meant a public right of way was implied.

The owners have to comply with a standard that was set before they made the purchase. As ordered, they have opened the gates and all are free to stroll the laneways and byways of Lissadell House.

Joe Leonard of the Sligo County Council is delighted about the judge's ruling, a triumph for the little man against the mighty estate owner. It's the mindset of those who fought and died to free Ireland from English hands, with the owners of the big country estates of English origin by and large.

Oh, and by the way, he does very much hope that the owners will continue their excellent work in maintaining the estate and developing a tourist trap that's bringing in people to Sligo who otherwise wouldn't bother with an out-of-the-way, sleepy little town.

The Mayor of Sligo, aware that the home attracted 40,000 visitors to the area, also hopes that the Walsh-Cassidy family will carry on as if nothing had changed.

So the owners, who also live in the house, lose all privacy for themselves and their guests, while the locals of Sligo can bike along the roads of Lissadell House. They can drift towards the house, to see who's coming and going. They might be tempted to pick a blossom or two from the garden, and there's no telling what a group of bored teens might do for amusement when they've grown bored with video games.

The Walsh-Cassidy family is uncertain if they'll continue, which will be a great loss to members of the Yeats Society and anyone traveling to Ireland with a curiosity about life in a big country house---the sort of life that created women with a keen interest in overturning the existing government.

It's a triumph for the rights of the general public of Sligo, but they'll soon learn what the term "hollow victory" means.

Those 40,000 guests aren't going to flock to the peace and quiet of Lissadell when there's all kinds of traffic on what once were private roads. Guests taking moon-lit strolls will not be delighted when someone from town comes running along.

Strangers in a strange place have a fear of being assaulted, and if they're not prepared for the lovely people of Sligo out and about, they'll go home with a sense of not being safe as guests of Lissadell House. That sort of word-of-mouth negative advertising isn't healthy for the bottom line.

Having been sued by the neighbors, Mr. Walsh and Ms. Cassidy may not feel so positive about the area they tried to help, no matter how much Mayor Lyons blusters about his hope that everyone will just getting along.

Dear shadows, now you know it all,

All the folly of a fight 

With a common wrong or right...  

The Holidays Begin

There'll be no writing or reading or even so much as a glance at the newspaper.

Sure Christmas is not until the end of the week, but the brothers are in town and I'll be taking the day off. It's been an age since we gathered in the same town and such a rare moment deserves special commemoration.

That's right. We're on a pub crawl today. So enjoy yourself at work, all you wage slaves. In a matter of hours I'll be at peace and all will be right with the world.

Tomorrow, of course, is another matter entirely, but I'll worry about the hangover when and if it comes.

Welcome To Illinois Eddie O'Connor

Wind power is the energy of the future, and who wouldn't want to bring green energy jobs to....China?

Eddie O'Connor of Ireland's own Mainstream Renewable Energy has partnered with the Chinese (it's the Red Chinese Army most likely) to create a new business that will harness the winds sweeping off the Illinois prairie and turn it into electricity.

Tianrun Shady Oaks will soon be powering your home, Mr. Land of Lincoln taxpayer. Isn't it good to know that your electricity is generating income for the Chinese? How's that balance of trade working out for you there?

Sorry, Newton, Iowa, but the Chinese can make turbines cheaper than you and did you really think that all those tax credits for green jobs would stay in the States? Maybe if the folks in Newton were buying Treasury bonds by the billion they might have been able to wield a bit of influence.

Of course, if they'd work for pennies a day like the Chinese laborers do, they might have gotten the work.

The joint venture will see China construct the wind turbines with Mr. O'Connor providing his expertise. He made a fortune with Airtricity in Ireland and he means to do the same with Mainstream. Ameren Illinois will buy up the power from the 120 megawatt farm. So will this wind farm be constructed in Peoria, or does Ameren have someplace further away from corporate headquarters in mind?

You see, there's a wind farm near DeKalb, Illinois that has driven local residents into court to have the thing shut down. The noise is endless and maddening, as is the strobe effect of the blades. Birds have a nasty tendency to fly into the spinning blades, and crop dusting is quite a problem when giant fans are blowing the chemicals away.

Wind power sounds grand on paper, but once the turbines start to rotate in a populated area, all bets are off. Tianrun may have a twenty-year contract to sell electricity, but the unhappy citizens of Southern Illinois (die-hard Republicans in a Democratic-controlled state) will be looking at who might have cut a deal with Springfield and which Chicago politicians have gotten a cut of the action and that wind farm may not be up and running anytime soon.

There are a surprising number of people who will be asking questions about why the Chinese are reaping the rewards of renewable energy tax incentives when there's wind turbine manufacturers just across the Mississippi in Iowa whose employees would contribute to the American economy.
Eddie O'Connor may not be recouping his investment as rapidly as he may have been led to believe by the desperate-for-any-investment Governor Quinn.

Even More Troubles With Unity

As a member of the European Union and adherent to the EU Court of Human Rights, Ireland is getting whacked with two large clubs.

Not only is the bail-out taking governance out of the hands of the Government, but now the Court has ruled that Ireland has breached regulations and more rules have to be erased. Expect the Catholic Church to bellow loudly over this one.

Being oh-so-very Catholic, Ireland does not allow abortion on its emerald soil, but a woman is free to hop on the ferry to England and take care of things over there where the neighbors can't see.

This manner of brushing unpleasant things under the rug is a violation against women's rights, unfortunately, and it doesn't matter whether or not the priests or the faithful or the voters are fine with the status quo. The law has to be changed.

There'll be arguments made that it's the camel's nose under the tent, but the EU's Court has found that it's not right to make a pregnant woman travel abroad to obtain an abortion when her health is at risk. Irish women seeking medical advice as to whether or not they should abort were not getting answers from their doctors, but that's the National Health Service for you. Even the doctors don't want to be implicated in something that the priests decry as a mortal sin.

The Court's decision is binding and, just like the bail-out deal, Ireland will be made to conform as ordered by foreigners in a foreign country. Naturally, the Government will craft the law in the narrowest of terms that appease the EU's decree while keeping something of the old Irish ways, but things will not be the same.

That's what comes with unity. You have to take the bad with the good and hope you come out ahead on the deal in the long run.

Life Off-Line

The laptop broke down and you tried to fix it. All day long, you used the desktop to access the Internet to find out what fixes you could try.

In the end, you realized that it was beyond your capabilities and I'll be delivering the thing to the repair place when I run out to finish up the Christmas shopping.

All day long, I was off-line.

Sure, I can Twitter from my Blackberry but I can't send query letters, can I? And there's a new agent at Caren Johnson's agency who'd be perfect for one of my manuscripts. Late at night, I don't know if I can polish the old query letter into suitable form. Not as shiny as it would be if I could have started in the morning, fresh.

Off-line for the day. Before I fall asleep I'd like to catch up on the forums I follow. I don't have the spark needed to re-write the section of my current Work In Progress that I decided to re-write last night, thinking I'd get into it first thing in the morning.

But no.

I was off-line and cut off from the keyboard for the whole day.

Stupid laptop.

There Are No Losers Here

The public high school in Evanston, Illinois was faced with a gut-wrenching problem.

Minority children were under-represented in the freshman Honors English course. What was the school board to do to correct this situation?

Perhaps someone would commission a study to see why so many black and Hispanic teens were already behind the white kids when they came into the school. Was there something lacking in the primary grades? Was there something in the average minority home that set them back before they even got started?

Yes, well, studies cost money and there sure isn't enough of that to go around these days. The teachers aren't entirely confident that they'll be getting their pensions when they retire, so dire is the financial picture.

Still, this glaring discrepancy had to be addressed.

White students were achieving and continuing to achieve, far surpassing their non-white colleagues. Everyone knows that such success in high school translates into further success in the future. It's the kids in the Honors classes who end up gaining admittance to the more prestigious universities, while the rest have to settle for less desirable options. Or they might not even make it into college at all.

The white kids are winning and the others are losing out. The township had to react, and react quickly.

So now there will be no Honors English class for the freshman.

Everyone will be treated as equal. Equally dumb. Equally smart. There are no losers in the achievement game.

Everyone gets a trophy and a pat on the head, job well done, good on you for trying so hard.

The question remains, of course. Why do the minority students come in behind?

That's a question for another time. The answers could be downright unpleasant.

The school district cannot mandate that non-English speaking Hispanic parents master the language before their children are born so that they can read to them like the white kids' parents do. Laws cannot be passed that force non-white parents to push their offspring like the parents of the children who excel.

The school system cannot correct alcoholism or drug abuse or physical abuse or anything else that the minority students have to deal with at home, when their white counterparts are busy studying and getting tutored and quizzed by mom after dinner.

Instead, all will be treated as equal. And the white parents will pay for private instruction so that their kids maintain the same high level as was once offered for free by the school.

The grade school will not be made to stop settling for adequate rather than risk tweaking someone's self esteem.

In the end, nothing will really change. The minority kids won't trickle into advanced classes as upperclassmen because dumbing down the curriculum won't solve the problem.

The Leaks That Are Old News

The world stands transfixed by the reams of documents supposedly "leaked" by computer hackers.

How is it a leak, however, when the world's aware of the facts already?

Did we really need WikiLeaks to tell us that the Vatican is incapable of communicating with the faithful? If you're Catholic, you've been aware of that fact since the day you were baptized.

How about the brilliant observation that the hierarchy are (shocker) all men, and (further shock) they're seventy years of age or more. Would you expect your grandfather to be Twittering away and updating his Facebook page?

No one is startled to learn via WikiLeaks that the Irish Government treated the Vatican with kid gloves when it came time to investigate child sexual abuse by the clergy. A sensible individual reading news reports at the time could see plainly that the State was far from aggressive in its investigation. The cozy relationship between Church and State was at the heart of the crisis, and it didn't take an official document to verify what is painfully obvious.

That's the funny thing about the purloined cables and secret documents. By and large, they don't contain news but observations by embassy personnel that reflect opinions and observations you could have picked up by reading newspapers. Nothing particularly shocking or earth shattering has come out.

If a tree falls in a forest, is there sound? If a document that repeats what was said already is released with a great deal of hype, is it news, or just a re-run of an old program?

The Gift Of Time

All I want for Christmas is time.

Alone time, without interruptions, so that I can write. Someone famously said that authors need a room of their own, but it isn't all about room.

It's the space I crave.

The space to be creative without family members assuming I'm not doing anything because I seem to be sitting quietly, and therefore they can barge in and ask me to lend a hand or join them for some shopping.

Can you give me enough space to show respect for my silly hobby? There's precious little of that respect in a writer's world, where rejection is an everyday occurrence. Please don't reject my writing at the source as well.

Give me time and space, a little solitude where my thoughts can be my own.

The socks are lovely, really, but what I want is not tangible. It cannot be put in a box under the tree.

Yet it is the most precious gift I could receive.

Big Heart, Big Trouble

The prosecutors are dumb-founded, but they have been unable to show that banker Jeffrey Gonsiewski was anything other than a man with an enormous heart.

He'll also soon be a man with a fairly lengthy prison term to serve.

For thirty years, Mr. Gonsiewski wrote up loans for clients of an Elmwood Park, Illinois, bank. All very dull, you'd expect, the same process over and over, the same joy shared with those about to buy their dream home.

Then came the mortgage melt-down. Clients came to Mr. Gonsiewski for help in altering the terms of their mortgage loans so that they could find a way to keep their property. Taking pity on the desperate, the banker then made alterations and changes and adjustments to the original loan documents without first clearing things with his superiors.

But things would turn around soon enough, wouldn't they, and the money would be repaid eventually.

Yet the turn-around never came and the bank found out what was going on. The loan officer was fired, an investigation opened, and all the searching in the world showed that Mr. Gonsiewski didn't take any money. Like some misguided St. Nicholas, he re-distributed the bank's wealth among its downtrodden customers without once thinking about himself.

If he'd thought about himself, of course, he'd not be on his way to prison for 63 months. The bank would also like $5 million in restitution, but they're trying to squeeze blood out of a middle-aged turnip on that one.

Quite the grand gesture of charity, done with money that was much needed by the bank's owners. After all, the Chicago Blackhawks were also pressed for funds last year, and the Wirtz family wasn't in any position to give away mortgages when they were focused on giving Chicagoans a championship.

Your Book, My Book

The latest offering from St. Martin's Press "Read It Now" program features a work of historical fiction that fits the season.

Author Donna VanLiere is re-telling the story of Mary and Joseph and the journey to Bethlehem. Not a subject much covered in fiction, but most authors might not be comfortable tackling the subject.

After all, it's a charged topic, dealing with religion. Everyone knows that in polite society you avoid discussing politics and religion. Where's there room in there to discuss a book that's based on the New Testament?

Ms. VanLiere opens with the perfect prologue. She lifts the pages from Luke, to set the stage in words that are familiar to Christians and unknown to Moslems.

The funny thing is, the words aren't entirely familiar to me.

She isn't reading from my book, the one that's been approved for Roman Catholics. The Vatican is very touchy on the subject, ever since the chaotic days of Henry (the Eighth of that name) and his decision to have the Holy Bible translated into English.

As far as the Holy See was concerned, it was a work of pure heresy. For Catholics, the Protestant Bible in English wasn't God's Holy Word anymore, and we have our own official version of events. Translations being imperfect as they are, the words don't always match exactly.

Sometimes the rhythm or phrasing is slightly different. With the New Testament ingrained in Catholic heads from birth, the variations ring out like a voice off-key. Something sounds a bit off.

Which brings us back to The Christmas Journey. The prologue is not officially sanctioned by the Church, so where does that put the book? Would I be committing a sin if I bought it for my mother? Would she have to run to Confession if she were to read it?

The Fundamentalist crowd might flock to bookstores to buy the book for holiday giving, but what's a Catholic to do? There's little more we can imagine than to pray for guidance. And ring up the Holy See to find out if The Christmas Journey has been officially approved as suitable for Catholics.

Perhaps the Latin version will pass muster?

And Flights Of Homers Sing Thee To Thy Rest

It will never be the same again, to listen to the Chicago Cubs on the radio.

Baseball legend Ron Santo has passed away.

We pause in our day to remember the athlete and the color commentator who brought emotion to broadcasts that might otherwise have been dismal. Ron Santo loved the Cubs, bled Cubbie blue, and was never ashamed to scream or yell at athletic inadequacy or cheer the occassional act of physical brilliance.

Farewell, Ron Santo. You may not have made the Hall of Fame in your lifetime, but for Cubs fans worldwide, you're a Hall of Famer where it counts.

And from another die-hard Cubs fan who left too soon:

Felonious Strings Attached

The EU-IMF loan deal is humiliating enough for Ireland. It's not unlike an adult who has been self-sufficient for years suddenly being forced to report back to the parents every minute of every day. Where are you going, who are you seeing, when will you be back, what have you bought there, how much did it cost, did you get our permissions before making the purchase.......

What people find even more degrading is the loan on offer from England. Ninety years after breaking free, and there's Ireland at the back door with hat in hand, hoping for a bit of aid.

It shouldn't be a case of begging, when you look back at history. It was English landlords who reaped rich financial rewards off the backs of Irish tenant farmers, and it was English law that drove the Irish into deep poverty. Not so much a loan, then, as reparations for past damages, and Ireland is getting its due.

The English, of course, don't see things that way. They figure they're doing Ireland a huge favor and so Ireland has to do something in return. Ireland is being asked to take the Irish criminals, around 3,000 of them, now incarcerated in English jails and lock them up on home soil.

England is having its own budget issues, and it has every intention of shutting down up to six prisons to cut costs. With that in mind, all foreign nationals currently locked up are to be sent back from whence they came, to save British taxpayers a few pounds sterling.

A drowning man can't be choosy about who lifts him out of the drink, and Ireland doesn't have much to say about the strings that will be attached to any loans granted. Already over-crowded prisons will simply have to accomodate another 3,000 bodies.

Plans to close down the 'Joy will have to be cancelled, and deaf ears turned to prisoners who are accustomed to indoor plumbing. Three thousand unhappy felons will discover the unpleasant reality of prison life in the Victorian era, without having to travel back in time. Recent changes in the law will cancel out a prisoner's right to refuse a transfer.

Not that the Brits are going to deport prisoners wholesale. Centuries of occupation have left a mark, and you can bet that England has no intention of shipping IRA volunteers back to a country that doesn't see such men as dangerous criminals.

For those who left Ireland for England during the hard times of the 60's and 70's, the government of Ireland could argue that they aren't really Irish citizens any more and they won't take them back.

Back and forth it will go, but in the end, Ireland will end up with an aid package and even more criminals to house and feed. Someone will have to figure out if the British loan on offer is going to cost more in the long run than it will help.

Trying To Make A Buck

You've seen the television shows, where people buy up mystery boxes from storage facilities and end up with antique treasures.

Mark Perko makes a buck or two out of the rather risky business of buying the unknown contents of storage lockers with rent in arrears.

What he finds of use goes on sale at his used furniture store in Lake Station, Indiana. The area isn't exactly a hotbed for valuable antiques. Mr. Perko is forced to drive a hard bargain if he's to survive in northwest Indiana, where the steel industry's demise has left poverty in its wake.

One of Mr. Perko's purchases turned out to be a bit of a treasure to the family of Sergeant Jeannette Lee Winters, who lost her life in service to her country.

How much are service medals worth, anyway? Is a letter from President George W. Bush a highly valuable artifact?

Mr. Perko thought so. When Ms. Winters' family found out what had happened to their sister's medals, dog tags and the flag that draped her coffin, they asked to have them back.

They wouldn't have known about the objects if Mark Perko hadn't contacted the director of a homeless shelter scheduled to be named in Ms. Winters' honor. He was all set to sell on what he'd bought for a pittance. After all, he's the one taking the risk when he buys up a storage unit. He should be the one to gain when something special turns up.

The director of the homeless shelter, Robert Parker, offered what he thought was a generous remuneration. One thousand dollars, and four tickets to each of the last two remaining Chicago Bears home games. The Monsters of the Midway. Not one, not two, but four tickets. For the last two home games of the season.

No thanks, said Mark Perko. He's probably an Indianapolis Colts fan. And more than a little greedy.

So what price did he want?

He never said. That's the key to bargaining. Get a sense of how desperate the buyer is, and without much effort, you get them to drive up the price themselves.

A firestorm of criticism, all of it scathing, poured down on Mr. Perko's head when word got out that he was angling for a bigger payout.

Once burned, he learned not to keep putting his hand in the flame. He's decided that the family can just have their stuff back, and he doesn't want it anymore.

Next time, he'll know to take the football tickets. He could have scalped them at a profit. Now it's just a loss all the way around.

Bad Sex And The Irish

The brogue has a certain cachet with the ladies, and a cupla focal can sometimes turn a pretty head, but the Irish have a dismal reputation when it comes to sex.

Maybe it's the climate, the cold and rain, that puts a damper on sweet romance. Then again, an Irishman's notion of a pick-up line involves getting drunk out of his mind and then hoping for the best.

A word of warning to any ladies who might be looking for love in the wilds of County Limerick. That sot who's pitching inebriated woo at you is hoping you'll feel sorry for an eejit and give him your number. It's Irish courtship at its most pathetic.

It comes as no surprise, then, that an Irishman has won the Literary Review award for bad sex in fiction. Rowan Somerville has done the nation proud by taking the prize for some truly dreadful passages in his novel The Shape of Her.

He joins super-author Jonathan Franzen in being unable to write about sex without resorting to bizarre metaphors and unintentionally hilarious verbiage.

Not that it's an easy thing, to compose words to describe a moment of intimacy. Yet authors continue to put sex into their novels because it's a normal human activity and it would only be normal for characters in a book to engage in sex at some point in their journey.

That this award went to a man with family in Donegal does nothing for the single Irish male, who is already stigmatized by centuries of sexual repression. At least there's some hope to be found in Hollywood, where the brooding, quiet but handsome Irish lad gets the girl at the end of the romantic comedy.

Ireland is just like in the movies, ladies. And you can't believe everything you read.

A Fishy Deal

The little minnow that was Riverdeep, now styling itself as Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, has swum into shark-infested waters. Even a mighty whale has to respect a predator.

Money has long been an issue for HMH/EMPG/Riverdeep/Greenwood/what-have-you. The merger that created the educational publishing materials behemoth was heavily leveraged and the Irish banks are all belly-up these days. Oil money is drying up. There's no other option than to cut costs.

One way to reduce expenses is, of course, not to pay for certain things. Unfortunately for HMH, one of those certain things is fighting back. With lawyers.

Textbooks utilize pictures to help tell the story. The younger the reader, the more pictures. That means photographers are needed to create a suitably illustrated book. Photographers, wouldn't you know it, like to get paid for their work.

You can't really blame Barry O'Callaghan, who created HMH. He was a member of the so-called "Golden Circle" that made loans to an Irish bank, backed by stock on the same bank. The people of Ireland now own the bank, or what's left of it.

So there it is. Those loans were never paid back, so how could you expect a man to know that going beyond the agreed print run means the photographer gets more money? They were paid once already, weren't they? And shouldn't they be grateful to HMH for being so successful that more textbooks were called for?

Some of the photographers have filed suit, but HMH is large and in charge. A mighty whale of a corporation has suites filled with lawyers in shark-skin suits, and if you're paying an employee, you might as well get a day's work out of them. It's a stretch for the plaintiffs, who aren't so deep in their pockets and are out the money they're owed to begin with.

So far, things aren't looking good for HMH. The judge hearing the case of Ted Wood v. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt hasn't been the least bit impressed by HMH's legal arguments.

Ever pro-active, HMH has re-worded the fine print in the licensing agreement. If a photographer wants to sell an image to the publisher, it means HMH can print as many books as it likes and there won't be another paycheck showing up in the mail.

It's pretty much what they were doing before, until someone noticed and decided to make a stand against the biggest educational materials publisher.

A familiar stance to Barry O'Callaghan, it seems. He was once a little minnow himself, standing up against the naysayers who didn't think he could swallow all of Harcourt and Houghton Mifflin. While the merger isn't close to being fully digested, he's managed to keep it down, albeit from a lower perch than originally envisioned.

Have Yourself A Merry Little Book Download

The stock market is expected to climb today because Americans in their millions went shopping over the past weekend.

Consumer sales were up a few ticks as compared to last year, and the business community is ready to cling to the slightest bit of good news these days. But what are people buying?

Thanks to discounts, price cuts and promotions, small electronic devices are selling well. Do the buyers realize that they can download books to those same devices?

The Apple iPad is flying off the shelves. Listed at $499, it's cheaper than an entire laptop computer and it's far more portable. It has enough flexibility to make it functional for such critical tasks as e-mailing, sharing your vacation photos with everyone in your address book, and it's ever so easy to download a complete novel. Several complete novels.

On the spur of the moment, an iPad owner can access something to read, and at a lower cost than purchasing a hard copy. Granted, a Kindle is a fine e-reader, but the iPad does more. As long as iPad owners understand that they have an e-reader function among the many apps, we as authors have to hope that they'll take advantage of that ability.

Even those who are going for the latest in mobile phone technology can download books to their Android phone. Imagine you're held up somewhere, the train is late or you're waiting for an oil change. How better to kill time than to read a novel on the screen of your smart phone?

Of course, the sales staff at the local electronics big box store has to be properly trained, but it's possible that more people could discover books if someone with enthusiasm showed them how to suck up words out of cyberspace and gather them into the palm of one's hand.

Books make great companions. The popularity of electronic gadgets could become a perfect match.

Marching For Exercise

Trade union members are tramping along the Bachelors Walk this lovely morning.

At least they're getting plenty of exercise. They won't get much else from their protest.

The pressure is on the Government to work out an austerity budget that will please the EU-IMF crowd. The four-year plan is needed by the end of today, give or take a few hours, so that the bailout can be deposited in the Exchequeur and the markets sufficiently calmed on Monday. Too much turmoil is not good for the markets, and the rest of the Eurozone will not tolerate more turbulence.

Sadly, it's the promises made to the unions that helped bring Ireland to the brink of bankruptcy. The costs of higher wages, early retirement, national health care and public housing cannot continue to be met in the face of reduced revenues.

Raise taxes on the rich and they either hide their money or move elsewhere. Raise the VAT and fewer people can afford to buy anything, which further damages the economy.

Meanwhile, the union members march to Ormond Quay, demanding that the Government listen to them, the electorate. It's gone too far, and the Government can only listen to the demands of the European Union that is paying for Ireland's underpinnings.

Billions to bail out the banks screams columnist Fintan O'Toole, but the little man is tethered to the big financial institutions and to save one is to save the other. It's the ugly side of capitalism at work, the opposite of the good times of big salaries and big houses and cars for everyone.

More for the working man and let the banks die of their own gluttony, the unions proclaim.

The working man was given too much, thanks to the Celtic Tiger that was fed by the same banks now failing. There's no more to give. Only so much meat can be picked off of dead bones, and the last scraps are gone.

Gardai are deployed, prepared to protect government buildings in event of rioting. There's already been rioting in Greece and England over budget cuts. The Irish aren't any more happy to find that the cupboards are bare and they won't get any more hand-outs.

The Government is taking its marching orders from the European Union and the International Monetary Fund, not the people who elected them. Not unlike obtaining a mortgage, the bank tells you when you'll pay and how much you'll pay, or you can kiss the money good-bye.

Skipping The Frenzy

Stores all over were open at three in the morning, tempting shoppers with incredible deals (of which there are only three or four items available at the sale price says the fine print).

Under the influence of an ongoing food coma, I pass on the madness.

I'll be at work, as usual, but most will have the day off and there's no point in sending out queries or hanging around the Internet. Most people in publishing are away from their desks.

Maybe I can put some extra time into a re-write I've begun. But then again, the car needs an oil change and there's nothing like shopping's Black Friday for an easy in-and-out at the garage. The mechanics will be lounging around, glad of a job that prevents them being forced to go shopping with the missus.

Let's rest up this weekend, polishing revised query letters. Come Monday, the rush will be on to get material in front of the literary agents before they're off to their favorite holiday resort and half of New York City shuts down for a long break that extends into the New Year.

A Time To Pause

We're hosting a Thanksgiving dinner for family and friends. It's time to pause, to reflect and count our blessings.

Thank you, God, that I have a job and even though it's put a crimp in the budget, I can afford to entertain. Not lavishly, by any means, but everyone will have enough to eat.

Sing praise to the Lord that none of us have to travel by air this holiday season. No porno scanning, no sexual molestation disguised as a "pat-down". Our get-together is powered by the automobile.

Some of my guests will give thanks to the Almighty for inventing Thanksgiving Day football. Will the Dallas Cowboys continue on their road to recovery under a new coach? Of course I'll time the dinner around the game. Always seeing to the needs of the invitees.

There are so many things that I want, but career goals are on hold for the long weekend.

As for shopping on Friday, there's no need for me to plot strategy or plan ahead.

Thank God for the independent bookstore, where Sue is always ready with recommendations for all ages and interests. Her cluttered shop is truly a blessing.

From Bad To Worse

One of the worst things that could happen in Ireland, in the midst of talks to set up a bail-out package, would be the collapse of the current coalition government.

It comes as no surprise to learn that the Opposition is calling for an immediate election and the Green Party is on the verge of pulling out of the coalition and Fianna Fail backbenchers are seeking the Taoiseach's resignation.

That would be the icing on the shite cake, to have the government collapse before the austerity budget is put in place. The EU and the IMF are in a bit of a hurry to finish up things, what with Portugal and Spain about ready to crumble. An election would only cause delay at a time when the markets don't want delay.

Politicians being politicians, they see things in the light of opportunity for their careers. With the public in an uproar, what better time for Fine Gael to take the reins of government, to realize their dream of being large and in charge.

But do they really want to be the party associated with cuts to the minimum wage and the curtailing of unemployment benefits under IMF recommendations?

Perhaps Enda Kenny harbors a notion that he can talk tough to the IMF and not be forced to give it all away for the sake of 85 billion euros of charity. He wants to be the Taoiseach who writes up the new budget that is relatively painless for the people.


Unfortunately, elections take time and the IMF wants things settled by the end of the month.

Politicians are being asked to do the impossible. The EU and the IMF are telling them to think of the Irish people and what's best for them, instead of dreaming of career advancement and greater power.

The old days are over, when TDs bestowed all kinds of expensive goodies on the people and reaped the rewards of re-election. The party's over, and it's time to pay up.

All That's Left Is Prayer

The European Union is going to bail out Ireland.

John Gormley of the Green Party, in coalition with the current government, is calling for new elections that will throw Fianna Fail out and put in Fine Gael. The end result will be no change whatsoever. Fine Gael would preside over the dismantling of Ireland, which wouldn't be good for any political party.

Everyone is largely in a panic over the corporate tax rate, which the government says is not a matter for discussion. Several EU members, notably France and Germany, have every intention of discussing. It's no secret that they'd like to raise the rate to meet their own, to stifle the competition that Ireland has represented for many years.

No matter who is in government, Ireland will be forced into an austerity program that will leave the citizens howling with pain. The minimum wage may well be cut to reduce operating costs, and the social partnerships that made union members happy will be axed. The promises made were unsustainable and the bottom has dropped out.

The national health care system will have to be trimmed to reduce expenses. Less housing, less benefits, less of everything.

All that's left to the people of Ireland is prayer.

Eamon O Cuiv is asking everyone to get down on their knees and ask God to make the new budget, the bail-out and the accompanying four-year plan fix the problems.

Father John Carroll in Wexford even composed an appropriate prayer.

Does it sound as if Ireland is going back in time, when the only affordable option for most was prayer? Once the new austerity program hits, it certainly will be like the old days, when salaries weren't particularly generous but you were happy to have work of any kind because the alternative was emigration.

And so, let us pray in the words Father John has taught us:

Continue to make your presence felt among us at this moment in our history.
Be close to all those charged with discerning the way forward for our nation and our people.

Amen.

To Save The Vodka Industry

Russian farmers faced severe drought this summer, and it's been said that wheat prices climbed because of their misfortune.

Cereal grains weren't the only crop to fail.

The potato crop was so bad that the Russians are accepting imports of Irish potatoes.

In Ireland, it was a bumper crop and farmers were expecting low prices in the face of steady demand and excess supply. The Russians, on the other hand, ended up with yields up to 85% lower than Ireland's.

A disaster in a land where vodka is precious.

So the Irish step in and save the day, with plans by the Meade Potato Company to ship up to 10,000 tons.

No word yet on the effect that Irish spud varieties might have on the flavor of Stolichnaya. You have to wonder if a slightly greenish hue may be seen in the distilled spirits, which could be at peak potency in time for St. Patrick's Day.

Dlya vashego sdorov'ya, you say? It'll be Slainte, Mr. Putin.

Overextended And Out

The Chicago Reader matters to me because it's part of my history.

I couldn't say if it's a quality weekly rag or a bundle of advertisements wrapped around an article or two. My vision is skewed because I relied on the paper to keep me informed during my college years.

Forever into infinity I will associate the Reader with nightlife and film festivals, along with intriguing works of investigative journalism. There were cartoons like "Life in Hell" by Matt Groening before "The Simpsons" made him rich.

What was playing at Facets Multimedia? All I had to do was pick up a free copy of the Reader and I had the answer to my question.

For almost forty years, it's been there for the taking, with its cheap ink rubbing off on your fingers. Almost all of that time, the paper was run by the founders, but a person can only put in so many years running a low-budget production before fatigue sets in. Once the Reader was sold off to Creative Loafing, however, it's been a rough ride.

Creative Loafing overextended itself with acquisitions, went bankrupt, and its newspapers ended up in the hands of the investment bankers.

Now comes word that Kiki Yablon, editor for the past few months, is leaving to take another job in journalism. Turmoil has re-entered the building.

It can't be much fun to work for an investment fund that isn't in it for a love of newsprint. The fact that an editor is calling it quits after a short time tells me that the Reader I know and love isn't going to be around much longer, or at least not in its current form.

A part of my past is tottering and I fear that it's about to fall apart. A touchstone of careless youth will disappear, following closely on the heels of my youth which wandered off when I wasn't looking.

Hidden Fees

Literary journals often charge the writer an entrance fee, and then use the income to create a prize that is given to the winning entrant.

For some authors, it's worth a chance at getting the attention that comes with winning. For the rest of us, it's an expense we can't afford.

There are more than enough literary journals that don't charge a thing for submissions, and if the prize you're after is publication, it's the way to go.

Tin House, well known and well respected, doesn't charge a cash fee to submit. There will be a cost involved, however, if you choose to submit before the end of December.

You have to buy a book, and prove it.

The idea is to promote book buying at the local independent bookstore, to trickle a bit of life-giving cash flow into a struggling industry.

It's the sort of idea that was concocted in an office filled with those who have jobs that pay, or by those who still live at home with Mom and Dad.

Just skip your Starbucks for a couple of days and buy a paperback, they might reason. There are those of us out here in the real world who haven't bought a latte from Starbucks in years because it's too expensive and there's the household budget.

Part of the reason why bookstores are struggling is because people don't have extra money like they used to. Sure, I'd love to have an extensive library, but I've learned to settle for the limited selections at the public library. My taxes are paying for it anyway.

Buying a book takes a back seat to paying for the heat and light. And don't suggest I turn down the thermostat to 68 and then use the savings to buy a book. The heat's at 65 and if I came into extra money I'd spend it on natural gas before I'd invest in a novel that isn't very good.

There's the other side of the bookstore death spiral. Often, I'll pick up a book at the library and give up on it because I don't fall in love, as the literary agents say. I'm not interested in stories about people with angst living in Manhattan. I don't want experimental constructions that I can't quite follow. To lay out money for something like that makes no sense when you're watching every penny you spend.

So I'll hold off until January, 2011, when Tin House won't ask me to prove I bought a book so that I can submit. It's a noble thought, to be sure, but for some of us, it's out of reach.

Take The Money

Imagine borrowing the money for a down payment for a home from your parents.

Now you owe them. They act as if they're happy to do it, even if they aren't pleased that you frittered away too much of your salary when you should have been more fiscally conservative.

But they have a stake in your existence by making that loan, and before you know it, your mother is calling you every day to tell you how much you can pay for a new suit, and you can't afford to buy steak for dinner. Your father tells you how much you can give to the kiddies for their walking-around money.

You don't want to live like that.

Neither does Ireland. But they may not have any choice.

The EU is about to force large wads of cash down Ireland's throat, all in an effort to prop up the euro so that other nations don't go under. The Irish government keeps insisting that it can make it on its own, get its own house in order, but things aren't progressing fast enough for the EU member states.

An Taoiseach Brian Cowen is already unpopular because he's being blamed for the financial crisis, but the house of cards was tumbling before he took office. He'd like to control the cost-cutting schemes so that he doesn't lose a vote of confidence and lose his position, but if the EU makes all the decisions on what gets cut and what must go, he can be sure the Irish electorate will send him packing.

Sadly, it won't make a bit of difference if Enda Kenny switches places with Mr. Cowen. Once the EU bails out Ireland, it owns Ireland, and the voting public can change partners but the dance won't be any different.

They can protest cuts to the health care system from one end of the island to the other, but cuts will be made because Ireland has spent itself into bankruptcy. He who pays the piper, as they say, and it will be the EU calling the tunes.

The EU will demand an increase in the VAT and the Irish will see prices rise. The EU will demand cuts in social welfare programs that its members believe are wasteful, and the programs will be gone. The Irish people and their elected officials will be painted out of the picture.

Members of the EU who have long been jealous of Ireland's low corporate tax, the vehicle that drove the Celtic Tiger, will casually step in and raise it. Corporations will flee to other tax shelters, leaving Ireland worse off and facing a more difficult time paying back the EU's loans.

A steady diet of spuds and buttermilk looms on the horizon, a return to the bad old days. And there's your parents, telling you they told you so when you went on that spending spree.

Modern Day Political Intrigue

The book group is reading Philippa Gregory's The Other Queen this month. How coincidental that Prince William is now engaged to long-time girlfriend Kate Middleton.

As for the book, I feel as if I've read it before, but there's been several novels published in the past few years that cover the same subject in much the same way. At any rate, it's been difficult getting through the book and when it's time for discussion, I know I'll veer off on a tangent.

We live in modern times, but why would the 21st Century be completely different from the Elizabethan era when it comes to royalty?

From historical fiction to non-fiction, you can follow the twists and turns that were matchmaking in the day when producing an heir to the throne was critical to the kingdom's stability. What sort of intrigue might have been involved for the Middleton clan?

I wonder if there were several mothers in the nobility who wheedled invitations to certain events so that their lovely daughters could meet and attempt to sweep the prince off his feet. Did some women call in markers to get their female offspring in the same space as royalty so that their daughter might one day be the queen of England?

Back in the days of Henry VIII, it was all about political influence and favors. The family of the king's consort got all the plum positions in the royal government, along with the money and prestige that went with it.

Although not as corrupt, why wouldn't it be the same today? Will Ms. Middleton's extended family stand to benefit from the marriage? Maybe a cousin with an insurance agency would get to underwrite the fire insurance for Windsor and Balmoral Castles, no bidding required. An uncle in banking might have business thrown his way by someone hoping to get an invite to some royal party or other.

The possibilities are endless, as is the potential for speculation.

At least we won't have to talk about a book I may not finish in time for the club's next meeting.

Keeping An Eye On The Corporation And The Employees

As if work isn't stressful enough, there are new reports coming out which suggest it's going to get even more stressful.

You will no longer be able to ease that stress with a smoke or a drink because your boss will be watching you.

Corporations with an eye on the bottom line know that health care premiums are climbing ever higher and there's a powerful incentive to reduce costs and increase profits.

If you, the employee, would quit smoking lower blood pressure reduce cholesterol lose weight exercise regularly live a healthy life style.....You thought your only job was to be a productive member of the team, perform your duties and earn your paycheck?

You, the employee, are also expected to be relatively sheep-like and a bit thick, as your employer is being told that you would do all those things in exchange for a gift card.

To date, wellness programs for the laboring classes have not resulted in lowering premiums. No matter. Corporate officers have been assured by the insurance underwriters that if they would only just push the notion a little harder, coercing employees to be healthier will eventually show positive results.

It can't be just a few employees who embrace the healthy lifestyle program. All the employees have to be on board for cost savings to be realized.

Get ready.

You'll soon be under pressure to sign on with the wellness coach who will be setting up shop near the front door so that the smokers can be kept under watch. As if you don't have enough to do, between commuting, the kids and their schedules, keeping up the house and minding your aging parents, you can add a few classes to the mix.

And it won't just be your boss getting after you. Your fellow workers, who have been promised that their insurance costs will drop if they get everyone to the spin class at noon, will harass you as well. If you smoke, you'll be under pressure to quit. It you eat, you'll be under pressure to eat fruits and vegetables and low-fat items.

It's time to fight for your rights as an adult. Otherwise, you'll always be treated as a recalcitrant child.

I'm going out for a smoke.