Orphans by Joan Cusack Handler is an extraordinary memoir and a wonderful new Irish family narrative. But what truly makes this story exceptional is that Handler's new book is a memoir in verse.

Table of Contents
Irish American Writer Joan Cusack Handler
As you may know, I love poetry and all the nuance, paradox and emotion conveyed by the magical manipulation of words. When I heard from Joan, a native of the Bronx, raised in an Irish family, I was captivated by the idea of a memoir in verse.
And so I asked Joan if she would like to write a guest post for my blog, to introduce you to her writing. As a theme for her piece, I suggested she focus on what it means to her to be Irish, and to share her Irish American story.
When I read her submission, I was blown away. As Joan wrote, her answer turned into verse, memories coming to life through familiar names, places and an Irish American backdrop that influenced and illuminated every moment of her childhood.
I am honored to publish Joan's poem, Irish Litany, here today. I hope her poetic words will resonate with you, as they did with me.
I may not have been born or raised in America, but I completely identify with the Irish Catholic perspective of this piece, and the lacework of memories woven together by Joan's lyrical language.
Plus Joan's publisher has provided a copy of her memoir, Orphans, as a prize for one lucky reader. But before I share the details of how to enter, here's Joan's beautiful, lyrical Irish Litany ...

Irish Litany
Irish meant converted bungalows in Throgg’s Neck, the Bronx,
swimming all day in the Long Island Sound,
bare feet, wet bathing suits,
uniforms for school.
Irish meant freckles, scorched skin and blisters,
Dad’s maroon bathing suit belted at the waist,
Mom never wore one. Modesty first,
you and your sister turn away to undress;
Dad never saw her in less than a slip.
Irish meant dreaming of American parents
without that funny way of talking, the frenetic music —
accordions and fiddles, a happy cacophony,
but I longed to fit in.
Irish meant my best friend’s older brothers
doubled over laughing at how I said H.
Irish meant Catholic, the Rosary and grace before meals--
our house, a friend’s, restaurants too—
Friday night pizza after a movie.
Irish meant The Dublin House, Thursday nights, corned beef and cabbage.
Dad’s cousin, Hugh, a bellicose guy
laughing and singing, hiking up his pants.
St Patrick’s night, fiddlers and dancers, Guinness on tap,
soda bread, his specialty, even better than Mom’s.
Irish meant Acts of Contrition on your knees before bed,
listing the day’s sins, begging forgiveness.
Irish meant forbidding emotion—anger, jealousy, and greed.
Irish was suffering;
Pain the path to the Lord’s heart.
Every hurt, slight, rejection, cut, break, or insult welcomed then offered up
for the Poor Souls in Purgatory— that scalding vestibule outside Heaven.
Irish was giving away whatever we got.
Irish meant 6 AM Mass beside Dad
during Advent and Lent,
(why only then?)
Think of all the good you’d collect
for going when you didn’t have to.
Irish was fish Friday nights and in Advent and Lent.
Irish was preparing, apologizing, accepting less—my mother’s small saucer
so much more worthy than our steeped and hefty plates.
Irish meant compelled by commandments—Moses’ Ten, Commandments
of the Church, Mom’s, Dad’s, Sister’s,
Father’s in Confession or at Sunday Mass.
Irish was The Legion of Decency at the back of the church
listing what movies were good and which were condemned.
Irish meant knowing the distance
from venial to mortal,
how sick you had to be
to not go to Mass, say the Rosary in bed.
Prayers before everything—tests, races, dances, meals, bed, school.
Irish was believing Mom and Dad
lived in thatched huts, with goats and cows and
no such thing as school.
Irish was wetting my bed.
Irish was Dad’s funny stories, smoking his pipe—
playing the harmonica, Mom, her accordion,
piggyback rides from the bathroom to bed.
Irish was “I’ll Take you home again, Kathleen”
and “Kevin Barry”, my favorite songs.
Irish was Saturday night’s bath,
Mom finger-waving her hair,
wrapping mine in rags,
Irish was having to be a nun.
Irish was potatoes every night;
everything home made—soda bread, ice cream, tapioca, rice,
bread pudding, dresses, curtains, sweaters, scarves,
Mom pouring Dad’s tea in a china cup.
Irish was novenas to Our Lady, Benediction, First Friday Mass,
My brothers altar boys,
My sister and I the Legion of Mary
No cursing, no swearing, no talk of sex
Immigrant cousins living with us.
Irish meant marching St. Patrick’s Day with the Edgewater Band
the length of Fifth Avenue playing the fife,
The Cardinal and Mayor smiling as we passed.
Irish was a nun for an aunt, a cousin a priest,
Irish was the bishop, his shoes off and collar
sharing a Guinness and laughing with Dad,
Saturday night dances to raise money for his mission,
my blue tulip dress, picking the winner.
Irish was Mom’s flowers–roses, pansies,
hollyhocks, hydrangeas—blooming in the yard,
but plastic inside. Irish was
“Thanks be to God” and “Lord rest his soul.”
Irish was everything—Catholic, the Rosary, the Long Island Sound,
priests, nuns, the Eucharist, prayers before bed and after school,
Irish was Back Home, The Old Country,
my mother and father, The Other Side.
Orphans
For anyone interested in reading more of Joan's poetry, her new book Orphans has been very well received. Here's one of the wonderful reviews on Amazon ....

“In her verse memoir, Orphans, Joan Cusack Handler tackles the big subjects – family history, aging parents, Irish Catholicism, belief and unbelief, and her own impending mortality – with a fierce, wrenching fearlessness.
She creates portraits of her mother and father that are fully rounded, alive, and moving, the central question for the poet not “Who am I?” but “Who were they?” ...
“Our terrors take over, pilot us through
this most shaking of times…,”
....writes Handler with force and grace, recognizing that the bright and the dark, love and the absence of love, must always coexist with each other. Orphans is a brave, searchingly honest, and compassionate book.” ~ Elizabeth Spires
About Joan Cusack Handler
A Bronx native, Joan Cusack Handler is a poet and psychologist in clinical practice. She has two published poetry collections -- Glorious and The Red Canoe: Love in Its Making. Her first full length prose book is Confessions of Joan the Tall.

Joan explores the evolution of voice, and its recreation on the page. She is also the founder and publisher of CavanKerry Press, a literary press at the center of a community of poets and readers.
You can follow Joan on Twitter and Facebook too.
The Giveaway
One lucky reader will win a copy of Joan's new book, Orphans.
To enter just leave a comment on this blog post by noon on Wednesday April 20th, 2016.
Any comment will do. What you write does not affect your chance of winning, but if you need inspiration for your entry why not tell us what it means to you to be Irish..
One winning comment will be chosen randomly. Remember to leave your e-mail so that I can contact you should you win. Your e-mail won’t be published, just used to contact our lucky contestant for mailing of the prize.
The winner will be announced on Wednesday April 20th, 2016, at the bottom of this blog post.
You may check out Irish American Mom’s complete terms and conditions for sweepstakes’ entries by clicking here.
Thanks to everyone who supports this little giveaway by leaving a comment.
Thank You To Joan
I wish to thank Joan sincerely for sharing her poetry with us today and providing a copy of her book as a prize.
Her words are honest and moving, and resonate with the implications of the complicated relationships many Irish people have with their parents.
However her words do not portray conflict to me, only deep love and loss, joy, tenderness, and acceptance. Thank you Joan for giving us a little glimpse into your Irish soul.
As you journey through life, may you continue to be inspired to write and share the truth of your emotions through verse.
Update – Winner Chosen:
Good news. Our winner has been chosen using the randomized “Pick Giveaway Winner” WordPress plug-in.
Congratulations to …..
Cheryl Barker
I’ll send you a quick e-mail to let you know you are our prize winner.
Thanks to everyone who joined in and entered this little Irish American Mom giveaway.
And a big thank you to Joan for introducing us to her poetry. Wishing her every success with this unique and amazing book.
If you like poetry, and especially Irish poetry here are some ramblings you might enjoy...
Did You Know These 7 Authors Are Irish?
Finnegan's Wake with an Apostrophe
Happy reading to all.

Slán agus beannacht,
(Goodbye and blessings)
Mairéad -Irish American Mom
Pronunciation - slawn ah-gus ban-ock-th
Mairéad - rhymes with parade
Here are some more ramblings you might find interesting....

Sarah O
Sound just like my childhood...wish I could write that way!
Irish American Mom
Hi Sarah - Joan really captured what it means to be Irish with her lyrical words. I think many of us wish we could express our thoughts so beautifully.
All the best,
Mairéad
Sheila
Beautifully written. Thanks so much for sharing this wonderful poetry.
Irish American Mom
Glad you enjoyed this piece, Sheila. Thanks for stopping by.
Mairéad
Maura
Really enjoyed your poem.
Irish American Mom
Maura - Thanks for checking out Joan's work.
Best wishes,
Mairéad
Alice Morrison
I loved Joan's poem of her family life of being Irish in America. I wonder why the title said 'Orphan"? Was it because she felt like one growing up in a strange land?
A little aside: A priest friend gave me a book for Christmas called " voices and poetry OF IRELAND". The book contains over 100 Irish poems as well as three CD's of various people reading the poems. I treasure it!! It was printed in 2004 so may not be in stores. I ordered another one on Amazon. I think you would enjoy this yourself. I love listening to the readings.
Irish American Mom
Hi Alice - Thanks so much for stopping by. Joan wrote the poem, Irish Litany, which I included in this blog post especially for this story, and it does not appear in her book. She used the name "Orphans" for her memoir in verse, since she shares the emotional journey of losing both of her parents, and caring for them as they aged and grew frail. Even though she was middle aged when they passed, she still had to deal with the grief and loss of no longer having her parents with her in life. She felt like an orphan, even if she did not fit our typical ideas of what being an orphan means.
Thank you so much for your book recommendation. I think those CD's would be wonderful to listen to in my car. I definitely need to check it out, and add it to my wish list.
All the best,
Mairéad
Martha Sweeney
Thank you, Mairead, for your Blog and for your interesting stories, accounts of
Irish history and for your recipes - as well as your light hearted way of giving
those recipes - I love it all.
When I first came to America I lived in the Bronx - it was so difficult to understand
some Bronxites' accents - and for some reason New Yorkers seemed to speak
louder than the rest of us - but the life was vibrant and and the people welcoming
and so Joan Cusak's poetry is a reminder of those times. Like you I am now living
in the South but will always remember those Bronx/New York City days vividly.
Irish American Mom
Hi Martha - Thanks so much for your kind words about my blog. It's lovely to hear from readers who enjoy my recipes and ramblings.
It sounds like you can really relate to Joan's story about growing up in the Bronx. It's nice to hear you found the people of the Bronx so welcoming when you moved there. New Yorkers do have a unique way of speaking, and definitely they command the airwaves at a much higher pitch than the rest of the world. I remember when I first moved to NYC, I was taken aback when I heard someone say they asked about something. New Yorkers tend to flip the k and the s in their pronunciation of the word "ask", so I heard "I axed him." It took a few repetitions for me to grow accustomed to hearing this way of saying the word "ask". I had visions of axe murderers all over New York.
All the best, and thanks so much for your comment.
Mairéad
Cathy Wynne
Irish means tearing up but not wanting to cry as I read this.
Irish American Mom
Hi Cathy - You summed up our Irishness perfectly, in one short succinct line. Well said!
Thanks so much for checking out Joan's poem, even if it did bring a little tear to your eye.
All the best,
Mairéad
Jack Carroll
Change the location to Boston and this could have been the Carroll family! One exception: added to "The Lord Be With You," would have been, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!."
Irish American Mom
So true, Jack. Joan's poem reflects my Irish childhood in Ireland in the 1960's and '70's too. I think we could write a litany just dedicated to all those Irish exclamations. One I remember from Cork is .... "In the name and honor of all that is merciful" usually followed by "what are you up to?"
Best wishes,
Mairéad
Irishnannie
How wonderful that Joan's work is so successful in wording so much that means so much to so many of us!
Thank you!
Irish American Mom
Hi Irishannie - Your comment beautifully sums up the significance of Joan's talent. Giving voice to memories and emotions from the past is such a blessing when shared.
Best wishes,
Mairéad
Marsi
I loved reading that!
Irish American Mom
Thanks, Marcie. 🙂 🙂 🙂
Heidi Nightengale
Ah. . .Joan's lyrical memoir and this piece particularly is so moving.
As an Irish American, Irish is my mother and my aunt putting out potatoes in a bowl like a flower arrangement on St. Patrick's Day to always remember the troubles, the hunger. Irish is pronouncing a dresser drawer, a "draw," and Irish is weeping and laughing at the same time. . .and often.
Irish American Mom
Hi Heidi - I love your additions to our little litany of what Irish means. I grew up with big bowls of potatoes in their jackets placed in the middle of the table. I really like how you say they looked like "a flower arrangement". And I know all about weeping and laughing at the same time - oh the dichotomies of the Irish psyche.
Thanks so much for stopping by,
Mairéad
Joan
Love to get and read anything Irish. Reading poem reminded me of my upbringing.
Irish American Mom
Hi Joan - This poem has evoked memories for so many of us. Thanks for stopping by and entering this little giveaway.
Mairéad
Christi Caughey
Oh, how beautiful! A great deal of it touches me in so many ways.
Irish American Mom
Hi Christi - I'm so glad you connected with this lovely poem. It truly is touching on so many levels.
All the best,
Mairéad
Sarah Bracey White
Ah, how present is our past! I'm not Irish or Catholic, but I thoroughly enjoyed this blog, Joan. You're a household name in my family and with my poetry friends- LOL - because of CavanKerry Press. How wonderful to read your lines about growing up Irish. The more we learn about the lives of others, the more we find in common with our living. I look forward to meeting you on May 1st. Sarah Bracey White
Irish American Mom
Hi Sarah - Thanks so much for stopping by to read Joan's beautiful poetry. It's lovely to hear from her fans. I love how you said ... "The more we learn about the lives of others, the more we find in common with our living." So, so true. And I love how poetry humanizes and makes sense of all our experiences, by stirring our emotional awareness.
All the best,
Mairéad
Chery Barker
I love memoir and poetry so am intrigued by the way Joan has combined the two. Thanks for the chance to win her book!
Irish American Mom
Hi Cheryl - Joan has done a wonderful job developing the idea of a memoir in verse. It's such an emotive way to share stories from the past.
Best wishes,
Mairéad
Patricia
Lovely! Always nice to read about things from my childhood, and find that our family was not the only ones to do certain things. And that we were not strange, we are just Irish and Catholic! ☘
Irish American Mom
Hi Patricia - It's lovely how Joan's lyrical writing binds us all together through our common Irish and Catholic experiences, even if I grew up on the other side of the Atlantic. These verses rang very true for me, especially where Joan says they said grace before meals, even in restaurants.
All the best,
Mairéad
Maureen o Hanlon
Hi Mairead I would love to win this book, I love poems. All the best ? Maureen
Irish American Mom
Maureen - Your name will be in the hat on Wednesday. Best of luck.
Mairéad