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Table of contents
- About This Item
- Memories of Erin – Remembering the life of Erin Danhi
- Customer Reviews
- A Message From the Dean: Remembering Erin Wilson
For, look you: In so democratic a community it would have been distasteful to all if my father had boasted of his wealth by offering a greater donation than did his neighbors. Yet it would have been quite unfair had he escaped with so light a tax as the others. The pastor, likewise, proved himself a man of wit and understanding. Everybody was contented. There were quite a few thrifty immigrants from Ireland back in the other century who liked to be thought penny-pinchers, desperate bargainers, stingy.
Perhaps it was some sort of defense complex, for most of them were easy marks for the right touch. As a rancher, my father fancied the Herefords, famous for their ability to graze afar and come back fat. It was when he first began to cross these beautiful English white faces with his original long-horned Texans that his Irish wit possibly saved his life. As my father told us, while riding the range, he heard a far-off, mournful bellow.
In a narrow valley a camp had been made--wagon and tent close to a spring hole, harness and gear heaped about. A spotted cow, wrinkles of age on her horns, her udder distended, stood nearby and at regular intervals hurled her complaint in a tone that blended grief and pain.
About This Item
The younger men had guns on their hips. A rifle inside cast its profile against the canvas wall behind them. The old cow accuses you. Now he had to play it through. At every step he expected a fusillade that would knock him out of the saddle. Only when well out of range did he look back. The spotted cow was close behind him, and a leggy calf. My father was a bit tyrannical and intolerant. He thought that every Irish immigrant should avoid the cities and get out onto the prairie, that it was the duty of every son of Erin to stand and walk like a captain of infantry, head erect, shoulders back, toes out.
Memories of Erin – Remembering the life of Erin Danhi
Michael will lead the group with step-by-step instructions on how to complete the painting. One of the annual events was the Arts Recital or Talent Show where the children of the village demonstrated their talent. She asked around at school and there were many children who wanted to join in. We concur.
She surely was dancing at that performance, too, an unseen, silent guest demonstrating the same gay abandon and verve as she did in real life The school had a wonderful family atmosphere and teachers, students and parents were intimately connected in nurturing and educating these special children. We were invited to the school on the 16th April to attend a ceremony commemorating our sparkly daughter. These tributes to our daughter have been prolific; Erin has not disappeared in to the ether, a nomadic traveller in to an unknown land, but rather her spirit and her vibrancy have been translated into the world around us in so many remarkable ways.
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Many have commented how the natural world that claimed her conjure memories of our girl — through sunrises and sunsets, snowflakes, flowers, Spring. As an older sister I always worried about you. I worried during fire drills at school as to whether you made it out of the school.
A Message From the Dean: Remembering Erin Wilson
I worried every night, except the night I did lose you, because I saw you the day before. You were so happy and healthier than you ever had been. You saw Brooke and Noah. You were in love with Marcio and you were with family and ready to have a great weekend together, doing something we loved—catching all those silly beads.
I hurt so much for all the things I was sure we would get to do together, all the fun Brooke and Noah and future nieces and nephews would get to do with you. But I find comfort in the fact that you touched so many people. You always meant the world to me, and our family but what your death has shown me, is that you meant the world to so many people. You were the kindest, sweetest person and most intelligent person I have ever known.
And I now know that not only does my family, but all of us here, hurt so much for the missed dinners, the missed conversations and the missed experiences that we will never get to have with you. We hurt for the intellectual progress you would have brought to the world, but most importantly we hurt because we loved you so much. What I now know is that this love will never go away.
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