an old writer and his words

  • ONCE TOO MANY

    He remembered his mother taking him to the opera once. It was an experience he hoped never to repeat in life and, man y years on, he had been successful in not doing so again. The opera was sung in English but he felt that only made it worse, for if was was sung in…

    Lou Faber

  • GALWAY

    I remember it as thoughit was yesterday, not eight years ago,the evening cool, the streetcrowded, the pubs along High Street:Freeney’s, The Front Door,Tigh Neachtain, Sonny Molloy’sstill warming up as the nighttightened it grip, the Guinnesswashed the taps, filled the pintsand people sat along the streetsome with guitars, one a bouzouki,and all with a song whichyou…

    Lou Faber

  • HYMNAL

    Open to page 147 of your hymnals.There is nothing to sing therefor the words of promise oncefound there have witheredand faded, carried off on nowtoxic winds, so hold your breathor whatever heaven you imaginewill be too soon be approachingat a speed exceeding imagination. You don’t remember how you got here,things happened around youwhen you weren’t…

    Lou Faber

  • LUNA’S SONG

    Tonight, when the sunhas finally conceded the dayto its distant but ever larger kin,the moon will again singher ever waning songhoping we will joinin a chorus we haveso long forgotten,bound to the earthin body and in waxing thought. We will stop and listenperhaps, over the dinof the city, the traffic,the animals conversingwith the sky, our…

    Lou Faber

  • EIRE

    There are two principal problemswith Ireland, and I found bothto be utterly insurrmountable. Every town, even Galway Cityat any time of day or nightlooked like it should be a postcard. Add to that the horror that inevery pub I visited it was assumedthat if asked I would sing a song or, realizing I have no…

    Lou Faber

  • A SMALL REQUEST

    If those in the campsknowing their fate,the inevitabilityof their impending deathcould call up music,for orchestras, playor sing withtheir final breaths, is it too muchtheir ghosts silentlyask, for youto pause andremember us,and singa dirgefor our souls.

    Lou Faber

  • DIFFERENT TODAY

    The air we breathe is different today,and we inhale more deeplywith the energy of our youth. The tears we cry today are notsolely tears of loss and sorrow,but also of promise and hope. The wine that we drink todaywill be the same as before, butnow sweeter on the tongue. The sleep that we sleep tonightwill…

    Lou Faber

  • A NIGHT AT THE ROSE

    Three beers over two hours and, giddy, I want to sing along with the Irish house band in my horribly off-key voice, just two choruses of Irish Rover or Four Green Fields. It’s beginning to snow outside and it’s a four-block walk to the Government Center station. I suppose it would sober me up but…

    Lou Faber

  • SHE SAID

    She said that we are little more than clay to be molded by God and carved by fate and we count on nothing more than this day. It’s but a week since she has slipped away, we expect our sense of loss to abate. She said that we were little more than clay, just so…

    Lou Faber