Dear Hearts,
July 22nd is the birthday of Frances Ella Pike McLoughlin Nau Anne Sullivan: daughter of Seamus the Older and Nancy; sister of Jim, Mick, Amos and Miles; Auntie of Oscar, Beatrice, Georgia, Maeve, James Patrick IV, Silas, Marcos, Roman and Carmen; niece, cousin and friend of many, many more lucky folks.
While Franny is working as an RN in a hospital and long-term care settings in Northwest Indiana, she is also studying to become a Nurse Paralegal who can help people from both a health and legal standpoint.
I agree with her dad that Franny is as beautiful as the poem here wrote for her below. Also included are a poem below by Emma Lazarus about the Statue of Liberty, because it is Emma's birthday, too, and another poem Jim wrote to follow Emma's, and in imitation of her, after 9/11.
July 22nd is the birthday of Frances Ella Pike McLoughlin Nau Anne Sullivan: daughter of Seamus the Older and Nancy; sister of Jim, Mick, Amos and Miles; Auntie of Oscar, Beatrice, Georgia, Maeve, James Patrick IV, Silas, Marcos, Roman and Carmen; niece, cousin and friend of many, many more lucky folks.
While Franny is working as an RN in a hospital and long-term care settings in Northwest Indiana, she is also studying to become a Nurse Paralegal who can help people from both a health and legal standpoint.
I agree with her dad that Franny is as beautiful as the poem here wrote for her below. Also included are a poem below by Emma Lazarus about the Statue of Liberty, because it is Emma's birthday, too, and another poem Jim wrote to follow Emma's, and in imitation of her, after 9/11.
Happy birthday, Franny, and may you have 89 more healthy ones by the Aunt Joannie Sullivan Law of Longevity Aspiration of 2008.
God bless us and save us and keep us from harm.
Love, Patty
MY LITTLE GIRL, FRAN
I have but one daughter, the last of the five.
She’s filled me with joy since her birth.
Because of this child I know something of God,
And suspect why He made the sweet earth.
No mean unfair coaches,
No high awards earned,
No rumpus of life ever mars,
The dignified courage,
The love in your soul,
That cheers like the light from the stars.
My Francie, my heartbeat, my Precious Caileen,
My flower with eyes of deep blue,
I watch how you live and I hope to behave
As splendidly, Sweet Girl, as you.
She’s filled me with joy since her birth.
Because of this child I know something of God,
And suspect why He made the sweet earth.
No mean unfair coaches,
No high awards earned,
No rumpus of life ever mars,
The dignified courage,
The love in your soul,
That cheers like the light from the stars.
My Francie, my heartbeat, my Precious Caileen,
My flower with eyes of deep blue,
I watch how you live and I hope to behave
As splendidly, Sweet Girl, as you.
Love, Dad
THE NEW COLOSSUS
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. ``Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door."
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. ``Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door."
Emma Lazarus, 1883
THE BEAUTIFUL OLD LADY
She stands there still with torch and promise high.
An immigrant herself--her nation: all.
The soldier coming home can scarce recall
A vision dearer to his yearning eye.
And strangers, come to live, who stay to die,
Are fused to country when the towers fall,
And lose their ancient race, and then are All-
American, and nothing puts that by.
She’ll take in lonely, poor and lost ones still.
But now her silence resonates with more:
“Take courage, children, let your valor fill
Your hearts, as it has always done before.
And hold, from many into one, until
We once again make safe our Golden Door*.”
An immigrant herself--her nation: all.
The soldier coming home can scarce recall
A vision dearer to his yearning eye.
And strangers, come to live, who stay to die,
Are fused to country when the towers fall,
And lose their ancient race, and then are All-
American, and nothing puts that by.
She’ll take in lonely, poor and lost ones still.
But now her silence resonates with more:
“Take courage, children, let your valor fill
Your hearts, as it has always done before.
And hold, from many into one, until
We once again make safe our Golden Door*.”
*With gratitude to Emma Lazarus,
James Patrick Sullivan, Jr.
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