* I’ve been searching for divine inspiration for what to write about. My writing pace needs to step up if I have a hope to break into the writing world as a career.
I’ve found a web site giving 365 ideas. This first one was to write about the weather outside or of a place I imagined being in. I chose both.
Carraroe. An Ceathrú Rua. The place of my youth. The place I thought I’d live forever. From the age of thirteen to sixteen I spent many weeks there. I remember cleary asking a ceannaire, and then the Árdmhaistir, if there was space in the next group. I stayed for six weeks that year. I felt a kinship with the locals more than with my peers. I truly felt I belonged. I wished I had grown up there. Fluent in Gaelic.
The weather in Ireland generally sucks. Even in summer. Cool, windy, wet. Not spectacularly so. Just a bit lame. I lived in Dublin on the East coast. Miserable enough. An Ceathrú Rua sticks out into the Atlantic. Any storms that come in hit it first and hardest. Many of my memories of those summers are of standing in misty rain, or soaking, windy days pushing through the summer. There were many sunny days with abundant sunshine. The minute the sun peaks out in Ireland, our citizens run around naked. The common joke is “there’s a big ball of light shining in the sky.”
Its June 17th and the current temperature in An Ceathrú Rua at 15:00 is 14°C. 57°F. Cloudy. Not bad for an Irish summer day. Not great either.
When I spent a summer in Chicago in 2001 the heat was overwhelming, especially to us Irish with our drab year-long weather. I’d heard Chicago had hot summers, and crushingly cold winters. Summer 2001 was well above usual in terms of temperature. There were many days where the heat index was at 100°F (38°C) or above. It took a little getting used to, but I loved it after a while. You tend to appreciate hot weather when you’ve been starved of it your whole life.
I arrived in Chicago, my first time here, indeed in America on June 18th 2001. I walked into a oven when I walked out the doors of O’Hare airport. It was over three months, on September 25th, that I experienced a cold day. I loved it.
It is 2019. I have lived I Chicago for 16 years. Some summers we get a few cool days. They are few and far between. This summer we seem to be in a streak of Ireland weather. I didn’t move here for that! We have enough to put up with given our brutal winters. It is 09:15 now. It is 55°F (13°C) now. That is unheard of even as a low temperature here in the summer. Never during the day. I’m looking around my office (Dunkin’ Donuts) and almost everyone has a coat on. A couple have scarfs. Ridiculous. I had the heat on yesterday. In mid-June.
So An Ceathrú Rua is hotter than Chicago. The weather in An Cheathrú Rua could probably be described as a shitty day. So how is this real. If it weren’t for the students/kids I’d love to be there. I was one of those kids from 1991 – 1994, but I was different. I was one of them. No. I wanted to be one of them. Weather be damned. Home is home. Looking at the weather today I wish I was there. I always with I was there.