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Openhearted
Journalist Roisin Ingle is a brilliant wordsmith and she didn’t lick it off the ground. Her 81 year old mother ,Ann, has given us a collection of autobiographical essays which encompass four score years. Openhearted is described as “Eighty years of love, loss, laughter and letting go” which just about sums it up. Honesty, forgiveness, humility and wit jump out from each of its 298 pages. From meeting the man who would become her husband on a roadside in Newquay, Cornwall to intimate details of everything from an illegal abortion at age twenty-one to mastering an electric typewriter was committed to paper in wonderful prose. Born in England Ann takes us through four score years with wit and wisdom. She wrote Openhearted despite failing eyesight. She says, “I was diagnosed with macular degeneration. Judi Dench has it. I felt better when I heard that.”
A Protestant she married Irish Catholic Peter Ingle in
England. Her meticulous research has thrown up some lesser known gems.
Take the following, “There were probably many women like me who did not
realize that after marriage they were the property of their husband and
he could use them in any way he wanted, no matter what their religion.
The principle was established by St Augustine and brought into law by
Sir Matthew Hale in 1736 when he wrote: “But the husband cannot be
guilty of rape committed by himself upon his lawful wife, for by their
mutual matrimonial consent and contract, the wife hath given herself up
in this kind unto her husband which she cannot retract’. It wasn’t until
1191 that this law was changed in the UK and in Ireland at around the
same time.”
It must be pointed out that this passage is no reflection on
Ann’s own marriage because through good times and bad it was a marriage
of love.
We all express puzzlement at how outsiders sometimes have
difficulty with our accents. But this wonderful English Protestant woman
who joined is sixty years ago has the honesty to admit that she
couldn’t make head or tail of what we were saying.
When Peter Ingle, whom she loved dearly, died in the most
tragic manner imaginable, after years of mental health issues, Ann’s
life went in several different directions; all of them positive. From
the battle to be accepted as a student at Trinity College (which she
won) to signing up for a Vipassana course at seventy years of age. She
tells us that Vipassana means, “To see things as they really are.” She
goes on to say that the experience, “. . . led me to believe that I
already know what it’s like to be dead.”
In a chapter titled Smelling of Scones imparts some
revelations. Such as telling how, in 2003, a journalist daughter (I
wonder who could that be!) brought her to Lisdoonvarna Matchmaking
Festival, “as a Guinea-pig.” I won’t tell you any more about that
chapter; you’ll have to read it for yourself. You won’t be disappointed.
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"Openhearted" is published by Sandycove. You will find it difficult to put down.
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The attached picture by Tom Fitzgerald illustrates a great story in the Irish Examiner, October 4, 2021.
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The man in the front in blue was clearing out an old house in
Cork when he came upon the original script of John B’s Sive signed by
the author. Karl Harding is a keen John B. Keane aficionado. He and his
wife Mar determined that Kerry Writers Museum was the proper place for
this treasure. They are pictured above with Cara Trant and members of
the Keane family at the hand over.
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John B. has now been joined by his friend and fellow Kerry man
of many parts on the Celestial stage. Professor Brendan Kennelly, poet,
storyteller, broadcaster and true gentleman was buried in his native
Ballylongford on Wednesday 20th October.
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Brendan and fellow poet President Higgins
Brendan was truly a person who could “Walk with kings and
beggars an still not lose the common touch.” One day when talking to
him I expressed surprise at a particular partnership that I considered
mismatched. His reply? " My mother always said that if you were in love
with a heap of dung you wouldn't see a rotten straw in it."
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Brendan and John B.
He will be sadly missed by those who knew him and those who
didn’t. The angelic smile of the Kerryman, who could even forgive
Oliver Cromwell, will brighten up Heaven even further. I’m attaching a
story that he wrote sixty-five years ago when he was aged twenty.
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The people of Listowel don’t need any reminders of the greatness
of the Ballylongford man. Nevertheless there is now a mural of one of
his quotations on the junction of Church Street and Colbert Street.
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Mural of a Brendan Kennelly quotation. Courtest of Mary Cogan.
See you in December.
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