Potatoes

I haven't been writing lately, I know, because I'm making a plug-in for EV Nova, a computer game from Ambrosia Software that my father likes a lot and is my absolute favorite. It's basically a space game where you get involved in these "storylines" which involve doing everything from outrunning the bad guys and landing on a planet to shooting the bad guys. Anyway, my plug in just makes a new storyline and adds another three planets at the end. Pretty simple, if I could make that one planet landable...

...but that's not what I wanted to write about. You probably guessed that from the title, unless you were wondering how soon I was going to say: "But that's just small potatoes." I'm actually quite proud of the thing, but it's been severely cramping my blogging time. I have a deadline for this plug-in, as you shall soon see.

Potatoes. They're not native to Ireland, but they came to Ireland after the New World was discovered and quickly became a staple. And then the blight came. I read about it rather callously before now because it didn't quite make sense and it just didn't seem real. I have problems like that with history. Lately--either I've grown up some, or my emotions have been heightened by the impending move--history has become a lot more real, and some accounts are just devastating.

Then came school. And Nory Ryan's Song.

That book, by the way, is by Patricia Reilly Giff, and if you're prepared to be depressed, I highly recommend it. I would have devoured it had I not been forced to read a certain amount of chapters a day. As it was, I read it quickly and reread certain parts of the day's reading all day long. I have been fascinated by Ireland since I got into Celtic music, and I always wished that my ancestors from the British Isles were Irish, not Scottish! I didn't know much about Scotland, but more about Ireland, I confess, but the thing is, it seems there are a lot more Irish-y things where I live. Maybe my British Isles ancestors were Scots-Irish! There's a concept for you...

Anyway, I haven't read much about Ireland fiction-wise, and that's part of the reason I devoured the book. On Thursday, I was to write a newspaper article about the Potato Famine in which I might have interviewed Nory Ryan herself. So I had to do a wee bit more research. I looked up the Potato Famine, and found a comprehensive site on it. I turned on my Irish tunes (I do everything better while listening to music) and dived in to do my research.

What I found horrified me. The desolation a blight combined with some rather stupid-sounding English could bring. But I was transfixed. Pictures from the period showing what was going on heightened the reality.

The "Kesh Jig" echoed eeriely in my ears as I read about families dropping dead from hunger by the side of the road. Was this song, so airy and joyous, and this account, so tragic and horrifying, from the same place? Never mind about times. I continued to read, and I was astounded by the story. Planting small potato crops simply because there weren't enough potatoes, and why plant to have a foul rot set in, anyway, and all that--then having the crops turn out fine. But then when the farmers set a risk and planted their big crops again--BAM--that blight set in again.

I continued to read about coffin ships, poor immigrants, and those left behind. Then I came to the section about "after the famine". In Ireland. I was sitting there, thinking, "What? There were actually folks left in Ireland? Oh." I know that Ireland is still around today, and I've heard radio direct from Ireland. I've heard about the Sinn Fein, the Fenians, the IRA and the PIRA. I've finally cleared up in my mind the difference between Dublin and Belfast. But after reading these devastating accounts, my mind shut down, and I was legitimately surprised that there was anybody left.

"Rosin the Beau" was playing, and I realized that, yes, there are Irish left in Ireland, and, yes, I'd love to go there someday. Yet I know I'll never look at the Potato Famine the same way. How would history in Ireland--and America--be different if that had never happened?

P.S. I did get a pretty high score on my "article". Daddy gently added, though, that he could accuse me of "biased Journalism". Oh, well--I'd like to think that the English were just plain stupid. "Laissez faire" when people are dying by the truckload?!?! Come on, people....