On to the Otherworld: Selected Writings

By Dennis P. Sommers

In this, his seventh book, Dr. Sommers has written an interesting combination of short stories covering a variety of important issues, as well as his usual quite humorous approach to life in Ireland and the United States. He explains here also many of the more interesting aspects of Irish mythology and beliefs that prevail to this very day, mostly in the west and northwest of Ireland. These mythologies were passed on via the oral tradition for thousands of years before they were copied down and passed along by the early Christian monks. These stories and folktales have since had a major influence on many of the great Irish authors, including Nobel Laureates William Butler Yeats and Seamus Heaney. They have also greatly influenced the works of other notable Irish writers such as George Russell, John Millington Synge, Lady Augusta Gregory, Brian Friel, and many others.

On to the Otherworld also addresses some of the more important issues facing all of us living in the world today. Dr. Sommers hopes you will enjoy! He may be contacted via email at [e-mail]

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491764770

Dennis P. Sommers

Dr. Dennis Sommers has written seven books. He was the director of the Institute of Irish History and Culture's International Summer School located at Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland for over ten years. He holds a doctorate degree in theology and has a special interest in Irish mythology and its influence on the early Christian monks, as well as current Irish literature. He may be contacted via email at [e-mail]

Book preview

On to the Otherworld

Selected Writings

Copyright © 2015 Dennis P. Sommers.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-6478-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-6477-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015905090

iUniverse rev. date: 04/09/2015

Contents

Preface

The Animals

The Rat

Wasps

The Birds and the Old Man

Turkey Love

The Humans

From Erin

The Athlete

Murphy’s Pub

Valentines Day

The Fantasies

Paddy Dooney’s Goldfish

Tony Finnegan’s Sligo

An Essay on Spirituality

Spiritual Living and the Twenty-first Century Crusade

On to the Otherworld

On to the Otherworld

That Old Man on the Mountain

Mr. O’Dwyer

The Pact

Dedicated to All of Those

Who Care for the Orphans!

Preface

The following collection of writings is intended to bring a bit of laughter and a smile to your face, as well as possibly, most humbly, offer some thoughts for more serious contemplation.

The first four stories in the book deal with the creatures of nature and encounters with, or observations of, these creatures. Just prior to the year 2000 I bought a beautiful mountaintop in western North Carolina. I built a cabin and lived up there alone for the next fifteen years. It was a most valuable time for me as I was able to enjoy the solitude and self contemplative moments that I believe are most valuable for every human being. This also enabled me to become an integral part of the nature and ecology of a remote mountaintop forest. There were no human neighbors for many miles.

This allowed me to interact with many of nature’s creatures, who eventually came to regard me as simply another mountaintop inhabitant. I would scatter corn and other grains around in front of the cabin and place a salt block just on the edge of the woods. In time the animals came to realize I was harmless, perhaps even a friend, and found they had no need to fear me. This allowed me to sit on my front deck and observe them in their natural ways for hours at a time. Deer, bears, turkeys, and several other species frequented the cabin almost daily. I also built several birdhouses and bird feeders, and became great friends with the birds, who gave me great joy with their songs and playfulness.

The first four stories in the book deal with these creatures of nature. The stories are of course fictional, but everyone knows within every fictional story there are certain elements of reality.

The next four stories deal with observations of human reality. While again being for the most part fictional, they also attempt to touch on the emotional side of being human and some of the challenges encountered along this path.

The next two stories of fantasy arose from the laughter and exploits of the lads in the pub. Several of us met daily in the snug of Hargadon’s pub, Sligo, Ireland’s oldest pub and would tell the stories. Sligo, in the northwest of Ireland, has long been the region of Irish storytelling and mythology and nearly everyday someone would have a humorous anecdote. Paddy Dooney’s Goldfish came about as Paddy had purchased two goldfish and nearly everyday would keep us abreast of their exploits. Tony Finnegan is one of Sligo’s most colorful and interesting characters and has lived a lifetime of adventure, thus lending himself to more than a few fantasies.

On the more serious side, the essay on spirituality seemed to be a necessary composition for the times. It is difficult for me to understand how people can be so brutal and inhumane, while at the same time claiming divine guidance.

The final section addresses the ultimate train wreck that awaits all of us. As we reach the twilight years, I suppose these thoughts of mortality become ever more prevalent in our psyche and we often struggle to reflect upon, and understand, the meaning of our existence. Here I also included some of the mythologies, also most prevalent in the northwest of Ireland, that have for centuries guided the beliefs of many. I hope you enjoy!

The Animals

The Rat

Have you ever had many dealings with a rat? Oh, they’re a slick, sly and witty creature indeed, and terribly resilient. They can get into the smallest smartest places. And they’ll eat damn near anything. I once saw a rat eating another rat.

The neighborhood I came from was littered with rats. They’d be hiding in the darkest places, then, all of a sudden spring forward at what had appeared to be your most peaceful moment, to scare the formerly content and firmly implanted shite from out of your body. They can find a way into your home no matter how secure and tight it all is believed to be. They nearly always enter at night, but if they gain a certain confidence, they’ll come around at all hours. They’re eating machines and are most generally after food, but if the cupboard is bare, they won’t hesitate for a moment to go after the children, or any other unsuspecting inhabitants.

I’ve had one after my dog for several months now. It all began when I wanted to build my dog a lovely kennel and home of architectural importance. I fenced in an area of approximately 200 square meters and covered the floor of the enclosed area with three inches of slightly coarse gravel topped with three inches of fine river gravel. I thought this would allow for the most efficient drainage as well as be pleasant on my dog’s padded feet. I also covered the inside floor of her 250 square meter doghouse home with the same. I never suspected that animals such as weasels, ferrets, and rats would burrow beneath the stones and consider themselves quite comfortable. Inside the home I built a platform approximately seven inches high, upon which I placed large silk pillows for my dog’s contentment and leisurely comfort.

My dog is the most loving and peaceful creature one could possibly imagine. She hasn’t a hostile bone in her body. She loves everyone most enthusiastically and shows it with an almost frightful display of wiggle and wag. She is a Welsh Springer Spaniel, mostly white with a light tan mask and various light tan patches throughout, the largest of which is in the middle of her back, reminding one somewhat of a saddle on a horse. Her name is Bonnie, short for Bonnie Cathleen McSamhain, the name coming from a long Irish heritage on her father’s side.

Bonnie loved her new kennel, not that she really cared for kennels at all. I had built her three previously, none of which she cared for in the least. These kennels were constructed when she was four years of age. Prior to that she had roamed a 350 acre mountaintop unrestrained, playing vigorously with every animal she encountered. She was especially fond of the deer, squirrels, and wild turkeys all of which came to know her and played their proper roles quite enthusiastically as well. I would set atop the mountain overlooking the game trails and watch the deer canter past with Bonnie not far behind screaming at the top of her lungs and running as fast as canine possible (she latterly became known as the fastest dog in the county, but that’s another story). If she got too close to the deer, say perhaps fifty feet away, the deer would just put it in another gear, pick up speed and stay ahead of Bonnie until she was exhausted and would come back to the cottage and sleep for an hour or two.

On the very top of the mountain there was a three acre meadow where the cottage, gardens and orchards were located. The turkeys would gather on one side of the meadow and begin chatting. Bonnie would hear them, then see them and take off at maximum velocity until she got again within fifty feet or so of the turkeys at which time they’d take flight and cruise to the other side of the meadow, land and again start talking. Bonnie would turn and take off at full speed ahead towards the other side of the meadow. At the appropriate time the turkeys would again take flight, gliding once again to the opposite side of the meadow, and once again begin their chatter. This would continue for an hour or so until Bonnie was totally exhausted at which time she would return to the cottage and sleep for an hour or two. They all had great fun until Bonnie had a couple of encounters with coyotes and one with a black bear. She almost died on two occasions, but luckily pulled through with basically no marks or visible reminders whatsoever, but it was evident she could no longer run the mountains freely. It has also been reported that both the coyote and black bear populations are dramatically on the rise in this particular region.

It took Bonnie a long time to take to a tether and/or a kennel, but as mentioned she did seem to like this new home. I would put her in the kennel during the day while I worked in the gardens and orchards. I noticed one day, during the heat of the day, Bonnie was out of her home and at the far side of the kennel looking most suspiciously back towards her cool comfortable home. I decided to investigate and upon closer examination of Bonnie I noticed she had a rather large abrasion on her left side. It looked most definitely like an animal bite of some classification. I examined her bed and noticed a slight tear in the pillow. As I picked up the pillow it felt a bit awkward then all of a sudden a massive rat jumped out of the now slightly larger hole in the pillow. Needless to say, once again this extremely ugly rat most nearly scared the warm and tender crap out of me.

It ran into the greenhouse next to the kennel and I followed immediately with a strange unexplainable combination of fright and anger that is most difficult to now define. I saw the rat cowering behind a shovel and grabbed a pitchfork. I don’t believe in bringing pain to any living creature, but this rat had attacked the most peaceful loving dog in the world in her own home, and I felt this was unreasonable and thus justified my using the pitchfork. Also, I was quite worried about Bonnie as I knew rats could be carriers for a wide variety of very serious diseases. They also harbor fleas, including those responsible for the bubonic plague, or Black Death, that wiped out nearly half the population of Europe in the fourteenth century. I was very careful with the pitchfork, attempting to approach the rat undetected from behind until I was within striking distance. I raised the pitchfork and thrust it downward through the small space between the shovel and the wall. The one tine of the pitchfork went all the way through the left side of the rat, pinning him, or her, to the ground. I was attempting to negotiate around the hand tools and still keep the rat staked to the ground, but couldn’t quite