As promised, more about the Flahertys. After some research my mother found the family crest complete with the family's Celtic warning to all trespassers, O Lord deliver us from the wrath of the ferocious O'Flahertys." Seated in the front row are dimunitive Ellen and the bearded Edward, my great grandparents.

Ellen and Edwin immigrated from Ireland around 1860. Edwin's family was named O'Flaherty, but somehow the O'Flaherty became Flaherty at Ellis Island. Unknown to one another, Ellen's family and Edward's family headed west for Cleveland. Ellen and Edward met and married in Cleveland. Once married, Ellen and Edward headed to Eaton Rapids, Michigan to build a family and a farm. The lasting memory of the Cleveland days was that Ellen and Edward stood by the side of the rails as Lincoln's funeral train passed through Cleveland enroute to Illinois.

Ellen and Edward raised 8 children on the working pre-modern farm. They workd the farm from the 1870s to 1910 when the family moved to Lansing and the burgeoning industrial age.

More soon. 

Lansing's West Side has always been a tough place, and here's the proof. Here I am standing keeping the watch outside our house on 925 N Jenison. It wasn't fancy, but it was ours, and I was periodically entrusted to safegaurd the family fortress. It wouldn't be long before we headed farther west to Delta Township--you can see I am ready for the move West--and later we moved to East Lansing. 

My dad, Phil Mongeau, is front row, far left. He was about a year out of high school and came to Lansing when FDR and democrats swept Michigan in 1936. These were the days before civil service and the "spoils" system allocated many state jobs. My dad and brother Izzy benefited from older brother Lloyd's party work and were sent to Lansing. My dad started as a mail clerk for the Highway department. The intramural competition between state departments was fierce back then. A championship, such as the one the boys in the picture are celebrating, was worth major bragging rights around the capitol. My dad was a player, though lore has it that brother Izzy had a little more game. We have a Muskegon Chronicle story that has my dad scoring 19 of Muskegon St.Mary's 21 points in a 21-13 victory over Ravenna.  

Happy is as happy does. I am enjoying a rare day of Lansing sun with my sister and long-time family friend Anne Shewell. Celeste, my sister on the far left, is showing her maternal skills, which are still in fine tune all these many years since. 

My dad, Phil Mongeau, is second from the left in the first row. This is the 3rd grade from St. Mary's School, Muskegon, Michigan. My guess is that were looking at 1927 or 1928. A good looking bunch of kids, right? (Be sure and doubleclick on the photo to enlarge) 

My grandmother, Martha Jane Flaherty Keaveny and her two daughters, Martha Jane (my mother) on the left and Mary Ellen on the right. This picture dates from the early 1920s, my guess is that it dates from 1922-23. My grandmother passed away a short time later leaving her little girls and husband Thomas. Martha Jane and Mary Ellen spent their motherless years attending Marywood Academy, now a part of Aquinas College, in Grand Rapids, Michigan. 

Il Colore Ritrovato

The world has changed beyond measure. When I was young you could find musicians everywhere, and because all around the world there so many there many great ones. Now the music is faithfully reproducible, musicians are not needed as once were. And music itself has changed. Though small cadres of classicists kept the sacred and ineffible the are under siege by coarse generations who music is hardly as musical as a bus engine or a chain saw. Something must have occured during their mother's pregnancies. How else is it possible to explain that playing Bach keeps them away from public spaces the way iron spikes drive pigeons from cathedral ledges?

A sample from Mark Halpern's Il Colore Ritrovato, a story in The Pacific and Other Stories , wonderful collection of short stories that are full of texture and light and the mature themes of existence, meaning, and belief.

The meme that recorded music changes the cultural role for musicians is fascinating. His comments on the devolution of modern music is well taken. Consider the narrow, constricted offerings released by the movie industry, and you have the same scenario, right? Replace Bach with any of the classics of Hollywood's byone era and compare those classics with the works nominated for best picture this year. Bus engines and chain saws compare comfortably with the films so highly regarded by the petulant, evangelical movie industry.

Lurking herein is relevant, important criticism of PostModernism, deconstructionism, and the barren, cacaphony that is social, cultural relativism.

Martha Jane Mongeau, my mother, 1948. She's closing in on 30 and like her generation, she's been through the Great Depresession and World War II. There's no notation about where the photo was taken, but you won't be wrong if you were to guess Lansing, Detroit, or Muskegon. Any guess on the color of the dress? I'll guess kelly green or navy blue. 

Honeymoon in Detroit

My parents were married in 1937. They went to Detroit on their honeymoon and took in this Tiger game at Briggs Stadium. My mother always said that Schoolboy Rowe was the Tiger pitcher. I can't tell who the opponents were, but chances are they are the Yankees. Schoolboy Rowe and the Yankees in town may account for massive crowd in the upper and lower centerfield bleachers. If it is the Yanks, Joe DiMaggio is the Yankee on the far right with his back to the camea. From the looks of the play, aomeone just hit a three-run homer off Schoolboy. Ugh! My parents had deluxe seats that day, lower deck behind home plate, they must have splurged or, perhaps, the seats were a wedding present. It's an amazing photo nonetheless, thank goodness mom brought the camera. Be sure to double-click on the photo to enlarge the picture. 

My maternal grandmother, Martha Jane Flaherty sits front and center with her teammates on the Michigan Normal University 1908 women's baskeball team. Michigan Normal is now Eastern Michigan University. The uniforms don't look all that comfortable, but the girls, for the most part, seem to be enjoying their trip to the photographer. I never met her. She died in of cancer in 1924. She looks very much like my mother, her namesake Martha Jane. Our loss. She has a kind, loving look on her face. It's no surprise she was captain of the team. 

Pancho and Lefty

Written by Townes Van Zandt and covered by many, including a heartfelt, angelic version by Emmylou Harris and a wistful, soulful duet by two of America's finest storytellers, Merle Haggard and Willie Nelson (listen to either version, they're delightful). Pancho and Lefty captures essence of friendship, separation, lonliness, regret, and kindness--all in a handful of well-crafted lines. Thanks, TVZ.

Living on the road my friend
Was gonna keep you free and clean
Now you wear your skin like iron
Your breath's as hard as kerosene
You weren't your mama's only boy
But her favorite one it seems
She began to cry when you said goodbye
And sank into your dreams

Pancho was a bandit boys
His horse was fast as polished steel
Wore his gun outside his pants
For all the honest world to feel
Pancho met his match you know
On the deserts down in Mexico
Nobody heard his dying words
That's the way it goes

All the federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him hang around
Out of kindness I suppose

Lefty he can't sing the blues
All night long like he used to
The dust that Pancho bit down south
Ended up in Lefty's mouth
The day they laid poor Pancho low
Lefty split for Ohio
Where he got the bread to go
There ain't nobody knows

All the federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him slip away
Out of kindness I suppose

The poets tell how Pancho fell
Lefty's livin' in a cheap hotel
The desert's quiet and Cleveland's cold
So the story ends we're told
Pancho needs your prayers it's true,
But save a few for Lefty too
He just did what he had to do
Now he's growing old

A few gray federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him go so wrong
Out of kindness I suppose

Remeber: They only let them slip away out of kindess, I suppose, and, yes, save a few for Lefty too. He did what he had to do and now he's growing old.

More is coming about my maternals shown below. The man standing in the second row on the far right is Dan Flaherty. He left Michigan and headed west. He worked the copper trains that snaked there way through the desert mountains of Central Arizona. He visited us once, I was about 8 or 9. He had skin like iron and breathe as hard as kerosene. He was a kind man, but cold and distant much as he presents below.