The Quinn story

A poem by Daniel P. Quinn

Éire-volution

via (Alexander) Bell

and the Bronx

My Grandfather met my Grandmother

at the phone company

around 1905 or so.

New, as the industry

boomed—

they were both supervisors

married

in 1913.

My Father lost his Father—

a bleeding ulcer

when He was

10 years old.

His only memory of my Grandfather

was that he supported

the Irish revolution—

he may have been wanted

by the British

to be shot...

After he died, my Grandmother

was a widow at 39,

seems to have lost touch

with his family.

Joseph Quinn was 49 years old.

I never understood the “troubles” in Ireland.

In America, I had Protestant

and Jewish friends.

My Father was traumatized

by the death of his Father—

never said much more.

or remembered anything about him

or Word War II

where he fought in India, Burma, and China

But remembered seeing the Taj Mahal.

That's all.

In 1989, I was working in New York

and experienced the secret hate

of my Irish Protestant boss

for Catholics.

The worst day

was when I was screamed at

because I had gotten ashes

on Ash Wednesday.

He told me to leave the building.

At that time, I was shaken

by the ferocity of the anger.

Later— we were doing

a very successful play

called Remembrance.

When the play’s author

came from the UK to NYC

to see the show

(and we thought)

he came

to celebrate our success.

But no, it became

another tribal game—

he was a Protestant—

criticized the cast

for being too Catholic.

Malachy McCourt testifies to this
In his Memoir a few years ago.

I was beginning to understand

the almost deranged gulf

between the two.

Revolution—

yes..

and the Irish won, sort of,

if we acquiesce

Tyrone, Armagh

and all that.

And the gun running

on the third floor,

while the drama played out

on the stage downstairs.

And then, maybe

a year or two ago,

I learned my name

was originally

spelled

Cuinn—

Queen Victoria

took care of that—

outlawed the Irish language

to regale herself—

her majesty

her all

with the nomenclature

QUINN.....

So, for over a century

Cuinn was buried

at the behest

of la queen.

At least, I can lower her case,

on my name in history.