Happy Birthday, Franny!

Dear Hearts,

Franny recently visited her Uncle Matt and 
cousins Henry and Georgia in San Diego.

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.

Franny is force of kindness and happiness, no matter what is happening in her life. Her bright eyes and happy smile bring a positive vibe to everyone and every place. She lives in NW Indiana, working as an RN and continuing beautiful friendships with her coworkers. Her travels often seem to take her toward water--visiting friends on Anna Maria Island, stopping by the shores of Lake Michigan, or taking time to visit family on the West Coast. No matter where she lands, Franny appreciates the natural beauty around her--sunsets, wildlife, seascapes and more.

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 87 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, FROM DAD

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.

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."

--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*.”

*With gratitude to Emma Lazarus,

James Patrick Sullivan, Jr.