Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
One year and a few weeks from my return back to the United States from Derry and I find myself wondering Has it been a year ALREADY?... Has it ONLY been a year? Yes it has only/already been a year: five-hundred-twenty-five-thousand-six-hundred minutes (thank you, Rent for helping me sidestep that actual calculation).
I recently returned to Ireland for a two-week stint, mostly in Co. Kerry and Clare, but also for a brief weekend back up in Derry. Cosmetically, a few things have changed. The Guildhall square had been re-done to sport attractive new fountains, benches and brick. Construction continues on Waterloo street and in the River Foyle for the new pedestrian bridge. The Immigrant Statues are gone and there is a new Cafe on the Strand Road. For the most part, it just felt like every other Sunday I had walked those streets. I felt little to no nostalgia but every sense of feeling like I was a visitor at home. Strange cocktail of emotions.
It's been a big year for Derry. The city recently won UK City of Culture for 2013. This is, of course, controversial for some because the honor is bestowed by the United Kingdom in a town many feel belongs to Ireland. Nonetheless, it is a big deal and it brings positive recognition to a town often overshadowed by London, Belfast, Dublin and Cork. The video captures the essence of Derry quite well. Watching it makes me realize that I miss the accent as much as the city itself and the people who remain there.
A monumental moment in history also captured international press this summer. The long-awaited Saville Report, also known as the Bloody Sunday Inquiry, was released to the public on June 15, 2010 and no one in Derry will forget that day. The report concluded that British PARA did, in fact, kill 13 unarmed and fleeing civilians in the streets on January 30, 1972, and that the British soldiers had tried to cover up what really happened on Bloody Sunday. British Prime Minister David Cameron issued a historic apology in which he described what British soldiers had done as "both unjustified and unjustifiable, it was wrong." Despite controversy over the cost of the inquiry--£400 million to date-- and also the fact that no one at a high level was truly implicated or held responsible, it was a day of victory for many.
Derry~Londonderry, a city of culture in transition was bombed just weeks ago. No one was killed or injured, but it was a sinister reminder that some are still holding onto the mentality that 'bombs cast a powerful vote'. A car bomb exploded outside of the police station just minutes from my old apartment. Such acts have been condemned by those from all communities and political perspectives, but the usual suspects continue to plague Northern Ireland with their worn-out rhetoric and uncreative means of communicating their ideas with their own society.
It's been a big year for me too. I am fairly certain I say that every year and there is a part of me that fears the day when I will not be able to say that. I started over once again in a new state, a new town, in a new job. In a curious way, the familiarity of that process for me (in 7 years: 3 moves to a different State, 2 moves to a different country, 13 moves to a different house/apartment) does actually lessen the difficulty that transition often presents. I am nearly one year now in New Paltz. The now familiar site of the Mohonk Mountain House tower on the Shawangunk Mountains and the contours of the Catskill Mountains remind me that I am home. I enjoy the funky little Main Street of New Paltz and the eclectic mix of students, rock climbers and other outdoor enthusiasts, bikers, New York City and Long Island transplants, working professionals, hippies, artists, and everyone in between. I like that I can be in midtown Manhatten in less than two hours on a weekend whim or conversely, climbing a rock face less than 30 minutes after I close my office door at the end of a work day. It is now geographically possible to see my family in Pennsylvania more than two or three times a year and that feels nice.
I'm not sure how to measure a year in the life but it seems to me that what I keep coming back to is who and what will stay and go? In my nearly one year in New Paltz, friends have come and gone, relationships have come and gone, and my students have come and gone. I continue to edit my worldview and keep or throw away my ideas, lifestyles, bias, and habits. It's a thrill and a heartbreak.
As I reflect on this past year while anticipating the start of another (for me, years feel like they start in August with classes--I am still operating on University time!), I wonder once again what and who in this coming year will stay and what and who will go? And although I have no immediate plans or intentions of leaving this place I call home, always at the back of my wander-lust mind is the question of, when will I go? Could I stay? I don't know the answer to that question but I look onward to another year and remain thankful for my year in Derry and this year of transition in New York.
In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life?
