The Irish Echo Labor Awards is one of the best nights of the year. Not only does it give you an insight into the Labor movement in America, it offe...

On account of a death in my family, I recently had occasion to make two trips to Ireland in consecutive months, something I hadn’t done in a long t...

Soon after I arrived in New York City I became a subway person. The price, speed, and anonymity suited me. And this was the wild and wooly 70s when...

So the big S-word is making its unruly rounds again. The big C word – Communism - is now so retro only our president uses it. But Socialism is back...

The Village Pub was a temple of tolerance that perched precariously near the top of Bainbridge Avenue. It was owned by John Flynn, who welcomed eve...

Living in the bustle of New York City you sometimes forget that there’s so much beautiful beachfront mere miles from your door. I’ve often written ...

Glen Hansard was a friend, and a lovely man who loved to play and lived for the moment he walked on stage. He may have seemed casual but, from his ...

Towns change. We leave them one way, and find them so different when we return. Wexford is a case in point. So many people now live on its outskirt...

“Send ‘em Home Sweatin’!” was the battle cry of Irish showbands during their rambunctious dancehall reign back in the 1960s. Or, as Ben Dolan of Th...

I was recently asked, “What was the best piece of advice you ever received.” Though it was given to me way back in the last century, the simple wor...

Turning and turning in the widening gyre, The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the center cannot hold... Those lines were writte...

It was the best of times and the worst of times – the best because we were young, the worst because we didn’t know any better. That’s how we all en...