Happy New Year!

And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere !
And gie's a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll tak a right gude-willy waught,
For auld lang syne.

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Here's to you.

Gibraltar in three easy steps

In response to your many cards and letters, I have decided to do the long-neglected post about Gibraltar.

1. What it is.

Gibraltar is a rock.

But Gibraltar is much more than JUST a rock, right? Gibraltar is a symbol of British... what?... Ancient Naval might? Empire? A subtle reminder to Spain to mind their manners or else?

Anyway, whatever it is to the rest of the world, it will always be to Americans a symbol of British Power, primate haven, and, above all, the logo for America's largest life insurance company.

It used to be a trivia test question: "Find Gibraltar on the map. 10 seconds." Now, newly-minted American university graduates would be hard-pressed to find, say, China, on a map, much less Gibraltar. Or Canada, for that matter.

2. Why would you want this rock?

Okay, first - you would want it because it commanded a strategic military asset: entrance (or exit, I suppose) to the Mediterranean Sea. Controlling the Strait (Straits? I can never remember that) of Gibraltar is important. At least it WAS important before the invention of the airplane; people in Italy probably feel less claustrophobic today than they must have felt when Britain ACTUALLY controlled the exit of the Mediterranean.

Now I must stop fumbling for answers and come right out and admit it: I don't know why you would want it. Search me.

3. How did you get this rock?

First and foremost, you must recall that (at the beginnings of your Great Empire, at least) you have always hated Spain. Remember that. France, too. I forgot France. You have always hated Spain AND France. And Germany. But never mind Germany for the time being.

So, you probably wanted Gibraltar because Spain had it. That would have been good enough reason. PLUS it was a good Naval thing to have. So.

The year was 1704. The British and Dutch allied with each other (ostensibly to help the Austrian pretender to the Spanish throne wink wink nudge nudge) against the Spanish and the French. Yay! You got to fight both of them at once.

The British sovereign in 1704 was queen Anne. I can't really remember anything else she did. Or even if she did THIS, actually. But she was on the throne (so to speak) when it happened. You are welcome to tell me in the comments what else happened during her reign, but I probably won't retain the knowledge.

And so, in 1704, you took Gibraltar from Spain (and also got to fight France again) and then, in 1713, Spain ADMITTED you had taken it, and signed it over to you. I am a little hazy about what happened to your Dutch allies and the Austrians. I guess they were just SOL, as we crass Americans might say.

Incidentally, before you get too carried away, we are talking about 2.6 square miles here, K?

And there you have it. Bob's your uncle. If there is more to it than this, please share.

Finn McCool

I received some books for Christmas, as usual, and the one I am reading first is Malachy McCourt's History of Ireland (told as a series of stories of Irish legends and heroes, along with more modern history, all mixed in with the personal tidbits that make the McCourt boys' tales so interesting to read.

Malachy is Frank's younger brother, as those of you who are familar with Frank's "Angela's Ashes" are well aware. His writing style is every bit as captivating as Frank's, I think, and I already recommend Malachy's book to you even though I have only just started reading it.

One of the very first ancient stories that Malachy recounts in the book is of the legendary giant warrier Fionn mac Cumaill. Here I must tell you that Malachy McCourt relies heavily on the writings of the great Irish storyteller Peig Sayers for these early stories I am reading now. Peig was a fantastic storyteller of the early legends, especially in the oral tradition (as was McCourt's own father, by the way) but she never learned English and so her stories, related by Malachy, are directly from the Irish, of necessity. As a result, this wee American brain is mentally translating Fionn mac Cumaill as "Finn McCool", though McCourt never does. I take this liberty because McCourt mentions the legend of the "construction" of the wondrous "Giant's Causeway" in County Antrim which stretches out into the sea towards Scotland. I have heard of this legend before, but the Irish hero was called Finn McCool in the version I have read. So I make the assumption the names are the same, the latter simply anglicized. Please correct me if you disagree with my assumption.

I realize that Irish history may seem off-topic for this blog, Ireland not being part of the United Kingdom now, but if you know me you will understand my collateral interest and forgive my digression. (McCool happens to be of Northern Ireland, though, at least the Causeway story.)

Anyway, the story goes that the visiting giant from Scotland came upon Fionn mac Cumaill, who had disguised himself as a baby. An 18-foot baby, but a baby nonetheless. And the "baby" bit the giant and caused the Scottish visitor to calculate that if an Irish baby were so fearsome, he had no further desire to meet the adult beings of the Isle, and ran back into the sea, pursued hotly by Fionn mac Cumaill, who was throwing rocks at the giant as the chase progressed. Legend says one of these rocks missed the giant and landed in the sea, becoming the Isle of Man.

I don't know.

But the stories are fascinating.

I am reading about Deirdre now.

"One day when the girl had grown into quite a beauty, her tutor was flaying a calf on the snow-covered ground. Nearby a raven was drinking the blood that had collected in the snow.

"Those three colors remind me of the man I would love, a man I see in my dreams," Dierdre told her nurse. "He has hair as black as the raven, cheeks as red as the calf's blood, and skin as white as the snow."

"There is such a man," said the nurse, and he lives in the household of [king] Connor. He is Naoise, son of Uisneach..."

I love it. I can't wait.