Denis R. O'neill
Author, Screenwriter & Producer
The Author’s New Book
The Author’s Last Book
The Author’s Fourth Book
The Author’s Third Book
The Author’s Second Book
Musings 2023
The Author’s New Book, Coming Soon!
Rants, Riffs, Politics, People, Poetry
and Always a Few Things Irish
Author’s Note
One of the joys of being a writer is being able to indulge in all kinds of storytelling – fictional and nonfictional – at the same time. I have written and will continue to write longform books and movies; I love those genres and have had some success in them. I also love observing and analyzing (or trying to) what goes on in our daily lives. And to tackle those issues, be they political or cultural, in shorter essays, or “Musings.”
The Musings gathered in this collection are from the year 2023 and were initially posted on my Facebook page (Denis R. O’Neill).
I happen to be the son of a Lincoln scholar and a Civil War historian (Charles O’Neill), so a love of history comes natural to me. As does the importance of history, which is why I would encourage any of you to consider picking up this volume to help shed a little light on why we are the way we are… wherever, and whenever that might be.
Take it from more enlightened souls than I. Philosopher George Santayana, in 1905, said: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” In a speech to the British House of Commons in 1948, Winston Churchill reworked that sentiment: “Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”
There are seventy-three Musings in this collection. As I mention in the book’s introduction: “In America, 2023 was a year of indictments, more indictments, and even more indictments – state, federal, civil and criminal- of Donald Trump, and the most dangerous indictment of all, that our country had lost its way and that our nearly two-hundred-and-fifty-year experiment as a democratic republic was on its way to self-destruction.”
Well, history, sadly has repeated itself. Again. America has reelected Donald Trump to another four-year term as President… making these Musings – not all about politics – more relevant than ever before. I am grateful for any support. What follows are excerpts from a few sample Musings.
The Kirkus Review:
“An essayist reflects on the state of American politics, culture and society in 2023…”
“A published poet, nevolist, and essayist who has written half a dozen books, O’Neill is a talented writer who blends astute (if often depressing) commentary with a hint of wit and idealistic defiance.”
“In the vein of celebrated English diarist Samuel Pepys, author O’Neill weaves his observations about contemporary politics, daily life and culture into an overview of America that is at once poetic, revealing, depressing and forever searching for people, events and behavior that define who we are.”
Sample Musings
February 17 — Play Ball
The country doesn’t seem very healthy these days. Life expectancy is down. Obesity is up. Sexual activity among adults is down. Severe depression among teenagers, particularly girls, is on the rise, leading to higher suicide rates. Gun violence is up, as always. A woman’s ability to control her own body is down and declining, vote by legislative vote, in one red state after another. The encroachment of religion into our daily and political lives is up, bipartisanship is down. Book banning is up. Democracy, something we have long taken for granted, is lurching toward Urgent Care. Winston Churchill once explained that “Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.” If we don’t kick and scream and fight for every scrap of fairness, decency and truth in both our election process and in our elected officials, we just might end up finding out about “all the others.”
The corruption of our political institutions by the Republican Party and its acceptance of lying as the coin of the realm has had a trickle-down effect on our national character. The rotten core of one person, Donald Trump, in the six years since he has been in the foreground of American life, has infected a depressingly large segment of our society, not to mention a slender GOP majority in the House. With President Biden seemingly on track to run again at a spritely four-score, and with Nikki Haley tossing her Carolina bonnet into the Republican ring, the next political cycle is already warming up in the bullpen…appropriately, just as pitchers and catchers are beginning to turn up at spring training.
We can only hope the umpires of our national game—Merrick Garland’s Department of Justice—are up to the task of strengthening our political fundamentals, which, of course, is what spring training is always about—fundamentals. The indictment of Trump in any of the myriad venues in which his unlawful behavior is being deliberated, would be a good start. “Toss him,” to use baseball parlance. A partial release of Thursday’s Atlanta grand jury panel report recommended that at least some unnamed members of Trump’s team, possibly including the “Big Cheeto” himself, should be expecting to get the hook. It would be an overdue step in the right direction.
March 17 — A Bit of Blarney
On this St. Patrick’s Day, and in honor of Rupert Murdoch, who recently testified under oath that Fox News’ story selection was never a matter of “red or blue, but green,” I would like to share some family malarkey related to the Irish passport I possess by dint of Irish grandparents on my father’s side.
I have kissed the Blarney Stone near Cork City; it’s true, in 1971. But I like to think that it only thickened an already well-simmered storytelling stew in the family gene pool. My father’s mother, Essie Quaid, was a Limerick-born opera singer who once upon a time sang at a salon with the amateur singer and pretty good writer, James Joyce. Mary O’Shea, on the Cork side of the clan, is a novelist married to my second cousin Michael O’Neill who masqueraded as a radiologist while excelling at spinning stories.
Charlie St. George, my great uncle from the Shannon branch of the family, was a known Limerick publican (Charlie St. George’s pub on Parnell Street across from the train station), a selector for Ireland’s national rugby team, a devoted salmon fisherman and Richard Harris’ lifelong buddy and drinking companion (not a job for amateurs). His son Johnny lost his sight when he was a boy but went on to become Ireland’s first blind physiotherapist. His daughter, Anna, matriarch of a wondrous and sprawling clan, is a celebrated painter. Charlie taught me and Jim Nachtwey, now the world’s most decorated war photographer, how to pour a proper pint of Guinness at his pub in 1971. He also told me that in 1922 he saw Michael Collins shake hands with the Limerick mayor outside of city hall, climb into his whippet (lightly armored car) and head south to Cork City where he was assassinated in West Cork by none other than Dennis “Sonny” O’Neill (no relation, I am happy to say).
I am particularly proud of our family’s long-standing reign as kings of Ireland. The O’Neills were originally from the north, and our family crest is the “Red Hand of Ulster.” It derives from Hugh “the Red Hand” O’Neill, who was king sometime after “Niall of the Nine Hostages” O’Neill, and before the time of Arthur O’Neill, a blind harpist. Hugh became king (and we got a family crest) when he was challenged for the crown and it was decided that the two candidates would sail their skin currachs (traditional west Ireland rowing boats originally covered in animal skins) around an island a mile offshore, and whoever touched land first would become king. Well, the pretender got ahead of Hugh, circled the island and was within striking distance of landing the throne when Hugh decided to take matters into his own hands, so to speak. With his sword, he cut off his left hand and tossed it onto Irish sod before his competitor could step ashore, thus becoming king.
