2005spring

G LENSTAL N EWSLET TER WEBSITE NEWS

OLD BOYS TIE

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A new attractive silk Old Boys tie has been designed and will be “unveiled” at the Annual Dinner Dance on February 26th 2005. It will be available thereafter from Fr Andrew and via the website at a cost of €30.

A new element to each individuals profile on the Ubique database is a section on who else in your family attended Glenstal.

We are keen to record these relationships.

An example would be: Gearoid Bradley would enter Paul ('63), Pat ('67) brothers. As the Society continues to grow it is no longer possible for one person to capture all of this important information. Please review your details online and update as necessary.

An encouraging feature of the website is that every week there are members signing on from the 1940's to the 2000's. it would be fantastic if we could get more than 75% of our members emails. However, with people moving regularly, details need to be updated on an ongoing basis. At least 100 emails regularly bounce

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Golf Outing 2005 Friday July 15th Castle Golf Club Rathfarnham Dublin 14

For those of you who are golfers please note the above date and let PJ Crerar or Gearoid Bradley know that you are interested. Further details will be available on the Society website closer to the date.

AGM 2004 An enthusiastic group turned out for the AGM on October 17th (see photograph on the website). Gearoid Bradley ('70) was re-elected to another year as President.

The development of the Ubique as a web-based database with ownership now residing with each individual was discussed and supported.

While most communications in future will be via email, biannual newsletters and the hard copy version of the Ubique will continue to be printed and mailed to all.

A small group was set up to examine how best a Solidarity Fund (replacing the Hardship Fund) should be shaped and how best it could serve the membership. We would welcome your input.

Finally we are pleased to announce that John Coyle ('63) will be the new incoming Vice President of the Society along with Patrick O'Connor ('70).

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Wishing you all a very Happy, Peaceful and Healthy 2005

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COMMUNITY NEWS

ANNUAL DINNER

Congratulations to Fr. William Fennelly (19811987) on his ordination to the priesthood. He is currently Senior Housemaster and Dean of Boarding in G.A.S.

ALEXANDER HOTEL DUBLIN 2

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Congratulations also to Fr. Paul McDonnell and Fr. Francis McHenry on 60 years of monastic profession.

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We are sad to announce the death of Fr. Finbar O’Mahoney who served in Glenstal from 1937 until 1960, and in St. Anselm’s Abbey, N.H., U.S.A. until his death in November, 2004.

SAT. FEB 26, 2005

YEAR’S DINNER WAS A SELL OUT! BOOK ONLINE AT

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S.E. ASIA DISASTER Confident that the great majority of members would wish it, we have sent €5,000 of Society funds to help in the rescue work.

Class of ‘85 20 Year Reunion will take place in April. Email greg@gpasystems.ie

1ST ANNUAL GOLF CHALLENGE The inaugural golf competition between the old boys of Glenstal Abbey (GOBs) and Clongowes Wood (CWC Union) took place in early October at the world-renowned Portmarnock Golf Club.

Strong winds and refreshing vapours greeted the teams from both schools’ golf societies as they arrived in the clubhouse for a light lunch. By the time that the teams (2 four balls) got onto the first tee the inclement weather had abated. Leading the Glenstal old boys team, Peter Crerar and Ronnie Cosgrove set a blistering pace though they were well matched by the Clongowes Union pair of Dan O’Connor and David Kearney. Clongowes eventually succumbed on the 18th tee to the stronger Glenstal golfers. Richard Crerar and Mark Ryan proved too strong by the turn for the other Clongowes players Paul Beddy and John McNally.

Following the Glenstal success on the golf course the players with their life partners adjourned to Fitzwilliam L.T.C. for dinner and the presentation of prizes hosted by former Glenstal Society president Pat O’Connor (1964 - 1970).

The perpetual trophy, presented by Dan O’Connor, past president of the Clongowes Union and Pat O’Connor, past president of the Glenstal Society was given to the victorious team captain Peter Crerar.

This annual event, which will be hosted by the Glenstal Society next year (2005) at Baltra Golf Club has been pencilled in for the 1st Friday in October in each year D.V.

P AGE 2

The rose Revolution I have been working in the European Commission’s Delegation to Georgia and Armenia since October 2002.

About the same size as Ireland in landmass and population, Georgia has a landscape with everything, from the soaring Great Caucasus mountains to the subtropical Black Sea coast, to the semi-desert and vineyards in the east, and an ancient mix of people with10 languages and a fearsome cult of hospitality. A country as fascinating as it is troubled, Georgia has had a rough time of it since independence.

The EU is here as one of the big international donors. We do “technical assistance”. My portfolio includes human rights and democratization. This gave me a ringside view of the events that overtook Georgia last year when the people unexpectedly overthrew the government of President Eduard Shevardnadze in the bloodless and romantically named “Rose Revolution”.

Shevardnadze, once foreign minister of the USSR, inherited the leadership of Georgia after the unhinged Zviad Gamsakhurdia was ousted from the presidency in a coup in 1991.

Shevardnadze’s former career – Germans credit him along with Gorbachev with reuniting their country – made him the darling of the west, which overlooked, at first, the unfathomable corruption that pervaded his country. By the parliamentary elections in November 2003 the people had had enough.

Until then, rigging elections was standard fare in the postSoviet world and the west had sighed but could do little more. I observed elections in western Georgia and saw every trick in the book – voting early and often, altering protocols, intimidation, stuffing ballot boxes or simply making off with them.

The climax came on 22 November, when Shevardadze was about to open the new parliament. The opposition had massed outside and, led by the adventurous Mikheil Saakashvili (now president, who resembles Michael Collins in looks and temperament), they stormed into the parliament unarmed, carrying roses to show their peaceful intentions.

Shevardnadze was bustled out by his bodyguards. I was taking notes at a meeting of senior western parliamentarians and officials to decide what to say about the elections: by now everyone was agreed that they had been rotten.

There was wild shouting from the room next door, where local staff were observing on a row of television screens.

Suddenly a woman burst in to say that President Shevardnadze had been evicted from parliament by the mob. Jostling and shoving, we crammed into the small room to watch the events unfold on live television. There it was: protesters clambering over the seats, opposition leaders declaring themselves president, and, most bizarrely, Saakashvili picking up the cup of tea that Shevardnadze had left behind and taking a long gulp.

That night there was real danger of violence. The ruling

S PRING 2005 regime had everything to lose, and Georgia was a militaristic state that had already been torn apart by three civil wars.

But the tanks did not roll and the next day most of Tbilisi turned out to endorse what had happened. Shevardnadze resigned, prodded by his friends in the west and by Moscow. If there had been orders to stay at home we ignored them and went straight to the city center to watch the scenes of wild jubilation (there I saw the entire diplomatic community doing likewise). Rustaveli Avenue, the main thoroughfare, was alive with thousands of people singing and dancing and hanging, ten at a time, from cars and buses in national bunting.

What changed? Some of the really nasty guys left immediately, some of them bribing their way to Russia through the secessionist part of Georgia. Others changed sides just in time and were rewarded with new positions or a quiet retirement. Still others were thrown into gaol and released after paying huge sums of money to the new government.

Last month I went to Kiev to see a different but related revolution. Exactly a year after Georgia’s moment, and inspired by its example, up to a million people demonstrated against the attempt by the ruling class to steal Ukraine’s elections. I saw Georgian flags in the crowds and met there one of Georgia’s student revolutionaries, who had been trained by the Serbian anti-Milosevic leaders and was in Ukraine to train his counterparts there in turn.

Countries do not change overnight, least of all during revolutions, and many of the old problems are reemerging in different ways in Georgia. But people here are proud of their accomplishment and will not long tolerate any antidemocratic tendencies in the new government. In one respect everything has changed: the government cares about public opinion. The real mark of success for Georgia is when it manages, for the first time in its history, to change government by a democratic election rather than by violent coup or bloodless revolution.

Thomas Legge (1986-92)

LIVING and TEACHING IN S.A. South Africa is truly a ‘Rainbow Nation’, and Johannesburg is the crock of gold at the end of that rainbow. Everyone is here – the 11 linguistic/racial groups of S.A. itself, the rest of Africa, and people from nearly every other nation of the world. It’s the London of the southern hemisphere, and, just as it has different names – Joburg, Jozi – it also has many sides to it. It was built on gold, and it still is a gold-rush city, with hundreds of Hiace taxis tearing around the city’s highways and arteries in the company of BMW’s, Mercs, Jags,and every sort of junky car. The city is on a 24hr non-stop schedule, with the finance, trade and culture of Africa and the world flowing through it. But it’s

S PRING 2005 continued

also a very violent and crime-ridden city. You’re never really free of it, unless you make yourself so, psychologically. For those who can afford it, every window is barred, every wall has an electric fence, and your car locks, mirrors and accelerator are quite important for survival. I don’t know of any other place in the world where you’ll find an official road sign, just before a set of traffic lights, that reads, ‘Beware of Hijackers Ahead’.

Teaching here is also one big adventure. The words ‘lively and talkative’, take on a whole new meaning. The students build up relationships with you as they walk in the door, and words and expressions and actions just fly around the room.

You either keep up with the pace, jump off, or stamp it out.

There’s never a dull moment, and that’s the great thing about it. And in this way the students take your heart (and sometimes break it) and you take theirs, and perhaps that’s a big part of what teaching should be about anyway.

Learning about South Africa’s, and Africa’s, history (and then teaching them) has also been an eye-opener. How amazing it is to learn about another continent, and then to view your own from that perspective. You begin to understand much more about your own country and culture by leaving them, and you see how each place has it’s own good-points and limits. You realise how some of our problems in Ireland appear less difficult when compared to some of the challenges facing South Africa today, such as AIDS, 40% unemployment and the accompanying dire poverty, violence and crime, unfinished racism…And yet we have so much to learn from Africa – their sense of family and community, their unstoppable sense of life, their communication skills, and their natural religiosity – you just have to say, ‘Let us pray’, and your whole class closes their eyes, and puts down their heads.

From a more personal point of view, when the familiar and cultural props of everyday life you’ve been used to for years are removed, and family and friends are far away, you can find yourself free-falling into new growth, despite yourself.

I feel that I left Ireland two years ago as a 47 yr. old going on 30, but that now I’ve caught up a little bit. It’s very hard to describe how, except that it’s a fruit of all the thousands of experiences and encounters I’ve had here.

I have said to myself many times over those two years: no matter how different we are in race, language or denomination, underneath we’re all the same. We laugh at similar things, and the expressions on our faces reveal that common humanity that unites us. After all, God did make us in his own image and likeness, and that’s what counts, and shines through us all, and makes us one.

David Hickey (1967-73)

P AGE 3

LIFE AS AN ARTIST When creating any work of art the most important thing to learn is to quit before you screw it up. Whether I am particularly stubborn or just contrary, it is only recently that I have begun to master this subtlety. Another thing it has taken decades to learn is that there is not much audience for the churnings of a bewildered psyche. People appreciate clarity. They want to be inspired. Beauty still has coinage in a confused world. Unfortunately, as a Glenstal boy of the sixties, I fell ill early to the bug of surrealism with all it’s dark metaphors and believed that automatic doodling beat planning and technique.

Life as an artist, though, has been an interesting road to follow and I have no regrets. From early on I learned that financial gain and the spirit of artistic exploration are not comfortable bed mates. So one has to be opportunist, using cunning and guile to achieve the security of a studio and the basics of normal existence. Luckily I proved good at that.

I studied Business at Trinity and, during the summer of 1972, started my culinary career in Switzerland, when I ran out of funds hitch hiking around Europe (as one did!).

As it turned out, being a chef was, for many years, a better friend to me than being an honours graduate. While painting and exhibiting in the U.S. in the eighties I presided over $10 million a year in New York banquets and set up a restaurant in Beverly Hills for some entertainment lawyers with more money than sense. But also, as an artist, I sometimes found it necessary to work in construction or to drive a limousine.

Above all, I have had the fabulous good fortune of having an understanding and supportive wife. Having lived several lives already, inside, I believe myself to be still in my late twenties.

Having returned to Ireland I am having to start my career as an artist all over again. Nobody here knows my work or remembers me, but who would trade the freedom of being able to express oneself creatively on a daily basis?

Sadly, it seems that values in Ireland have changed dramatically: now, like in Los Angeles, “you are what you own.”

I feel incredibly lucky to have taken the road I did and to have understood early on the sentiments of Kiplings “IF”.

“If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it………..”.

Some of my recent paintings may be viewed on the internet at http://www.artvitae.com/artist_portfolio.asp?aist_id=293

Patrick Walshe (1964-70)

JOHN HUNT (1970-1975) When John Hunt arrived in Glenstal in 1970, he was among a batch of boys from St. Gerards who went straight into Second Year. For some time, those of us who had survived First Year together circled uncertainly around the new arrivals - and they around us.

The wariness dissipated with time. John's nickname stuck. He was and would remain 'Weedy'.

By Third Year, John had acquired - in my view at least - an alluring bohemian air. My memories of John are imbued in a quite Proustian way with aromas of oil paint and.... stale tobacco. Apart from the illicitly purchased packets of Major, I remember the long, curving stem of a Churchwarden pipe. What most impressed me, however, was a paperback he seemed to carry everywhere: Vincent Van Gogh's correspondence with his brother, Theo.

And then there were the sandals he insisted on wearing with-out socks even in mid-winter.

In those early days, as later on, John had a lot to recommend him – an easygoing nature, a wry sense of humour and a disregard for inflexible authority.

Equally importantly, as far as I was concerned, John had a sister who was at school in nearby Laurel Hill. He introduced Trudy to me on the train as we returned to school to start Fourth Year. Trudy became My Very First Girlfriend - or perhaps that

should be My Very Best Pen Pal for I'm sure we wrote more times than ever we met.

John's achievements have been well documented: his role in establishing the world- renowned Hunt Museum in Limerick; his award from the Royal Hibernian Academy in recognition of his contribution to Irish arts; his chairmanship of the Tyrone Guthrie Centre in Co. Monaghan and membership of other cultural bodies.

There was of course more but I am drawn back to a memory of John as he was embarking on his career.

School had finished and John had taken over the Craggaun-owen heritage project established by his parents in Co. Clare.While he was gainfully employed, classmate Vincent Barton and I had nothing better to do than hitch-hike across Ireland.

Eventually, we pitched up at the crannog. While John busied himself with guiding tours around the model neolithic settlement, we devoted ourselves to carving bogus Stone Age tools from pieces of wood. These we arranged in prominent places inside the thatched huts. As a group of Americans listened attentively to John's well-informed spiel, we appeared from the back of the group, pointing to our handi-work.

'Please, mister, what did the cavemen use those for?'.

I think that is the only time I can remember John being at a loss for words. He got his own back that evening, retiring alone to the

splendid Norman keep while we bedded down in an outhouse.

As students, we would sometimes meet up for a pint in Howth near where he grew up. I remember him coming out to my home in Malahide, his face beaming after racing his motorcycle along the coast road which he thought a great drive.

When I was home on a visit in early in 2004, I heard him on Irish radio, passionately defending the probity of the Hunt Collection in the face of allegations of a Nazi connection. It was a fine and fluent performance.

A short while after his death, I got a letter from Trudy who said, among other things, what a good brother and what a good friend John had been to her. For those of us in the class of '75, John also holds a special place. I'm sure all of you who read this will join me in sending best wishes to Trudy, to John's wife Patricia and to their three young children, Jack, Paddy and Miriam.

David Orr (1969-75)

Nick Lloyd (1991) & Jennifer Bolton Robert Keeling (1992) & Susie Cahill Jeff Carroll (1992) & Niamh O’Shea Shaun Boylan (1994) & Joanna Cunningham Shane Sutherland (1990) & Daniela Marletta

Let Us Remember John Hunt (1970-1975) John Coffey (1957-1959) Arthur (George) Ryan (1932-1934) Captain Richard Seigne, father of Richard (+1989), John and Marcus Roderick EnraghtMooney, father of Robert and Peter.

Brenda Alken, mother of Anthony, Gregory, Charles, and Michael.

Katherine Moore, wife of Charles.

Nano Harvey, mother of Paul, Philip, Geoffrey, and Ivan (+ 1965).

Norah Kennedy, mother of David and Declan.

Marion Daly, wife of John.

Ann Goggin, sister of Michael.

Mary Buttle, mother of Thomas.

R I P ARTHUR RYAN (1932-1934) Arthur (George), who died in New Zealand last November, was one of three boys who arrived in Glenstal on the very first day (01/09/32). Of the other two, Yves Goor died in 1988 and Nicholas Smyth – the very first to arrive – is still happily living in Florida. Arthur wrote his memoirs of those early days in the Summer 2002 Newsletter. Our sincere sympathy to Elisabeth and the Ryan family.

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