Down The Rocky Road – How Things Have Changed

Irish skies are epic

On Wednesday 27 August, Milda had her first day at school; Livia and Dainoris would follow the day after. Livia’s scholar history has been one of trial and abject failure time and time again. In the beginning, she went to a miserable school in Germany whose team leader, despite the qualifications, was about as suitable for the job as a leopard guarding a chicken coop. I even caught one of the teachers verbally berating a three-year-old in the corridor for wanting to go to the toilet while the class was reading. So that wasn’t really Livia’s fault, but it certainly made her determined not to speak a word of German.

After a happy period in a delightful crèche in Luxembourg, the rest of the time was miserable for her. All the private schools in Luxembourg and Spain were obsessed with “excellence” and to hell with special needs. I used to be a strong advocate for private schools, but having seen the transactional, Darwinian way they go about providing education, I have absolutely no sympathy fuel left in the tank for them. Every private school I have seen advertises that they have departments to handle children with special needs, but in reality this is usually an external semi-qualified self-employed child psychologist who couldn’t find a practice that would hire them. They come for a couple of hours a week and do a little round to check if the kids on the watch list are starting to behave like everyone else.

We therefore had a low bar, regarding expectations. On the morning of Livia’s first day at school, she did a lot of protesting, wailing, writhing and hiding. She was very nervous almost to the point of hyperventilation. This was to be expected, considering the way she had been misunderstood and mistreated in schools. One would have thought that, by now, the education world had understood that not every child learns at the same pace and some need a little extra help. The special needs methods and policies in many countries neither meet the requirements, nor do they reflect the realities in society.

First day of school

So it came as a complete surprise when Livia came hope with a smile on her face and a few words about her day. That hasn’t happened very often. In her last school in Spain, although the staff tried their best, Livia often came home a complete mess. Some days she would shout for minutes at a time about her teacher that she hated her and hated the kids.

But now, we were starting to see signs that she might actually settle down and get along. The head of the school, a woman with a mission and a heart as wide as the majestic River Shannon, has taken more steps in the past two months than all Livia’s other schools combined. She got in touch with the appropriate services, then called us in to fill in an application form for government assistance. Not only that, she made sure the process got sped up by putting in a few words with the right people. Livia still has many, many issues, but the first priority – providing the right learning environment for her – has been emphatically fulfilled. She comes home every evening with a smile on her face and she talks and talks and talks: things that, only six months ago, would have been inconceivable.

We are awaiting the full acceptance and onboarding process, but things are on the move, and that is an achievement in itself.

Dainoris is developing his own character now, too. He is an exceptional spatial designer – he will take everything in the house that isn’t nailed down and make some architectural masterpiece out of it: castles, especially, but also holiday houses with swimming pools and rooftop terraces. He can name a lot of dinosaurs and animals, and he can draw them incredibly well. He enjoys school and loves to give us some small mathematics exercises.

Milda is a charming young lady who loves a chat. For her age, she is an adventurous eater – give her salads, curries, vegetables, cheese varieties, and she will be your most enjoyable lunch partner. She is very helpful, as is her brother, but she can tire easily. She and Dainoris can play for hours in various roleplaying games, sometimes with Livia. At school in general, she is very advanced for her age, and her handwriting is incredibly neat.

Another important thing the school principal did was to give us the contact details of a very kind after-school childminder. Originally from Cork, living in a cottage 10 minutes away with a lovely shaded garden, two sheepdogs, a rabbit and a husband with very green fingers, Aoife looks after Dainoris and Milda four days a week. They finish school an hour earlier than Livia, meaning I would have to hang around in town or do a lot of driving in the middle of the afternoon.

Athlone Castle

I go to pick Livia up, and she has a quiet time each afternoon before we all jump in the car and go to get her siblings at just before 6pm. Aoife has a quiet, calming demeanour and is a really good communicator. There are several other children who come to her each day, and she has so many things to play with, that Livia has declared Aoife’s house is her favourite place.

At the back of Aoife’s cottage, there is a terrific glass-festooned extension made of SIPs (Structural Insulated Panels) with a lot of light and nature right outside. It’s like having the garden as your wallpaper. I will be copying this once we get the main house in order.

Over the last few weeks, we have been gathering materials and booking builders, ready to get reconstruction started in the house over the coming weeks. The first thing we have accomplished is the hearth. It had a ridiculously heavy Stanley Range sitting in front of some hideous tiles that had covered a concrete mess over the original fireplace. I took full responsibility for the decision to unblock the whole thing and let the house breathe again.

Although I was aware anything was possible, what I didn’t expect was that it would be such a mess. I smashed the tiles off, and tried to clear the fireplace, but it wasn’t budging with the tools I had. So I called the chimney sweep. He arrived the next morning with the idea he’d be home by lunchtime. Nope. The entire chimney stack was filled in with all types of rock, creosote and soot. It took him two full days to empty the whole thing.

We removed a 120kg Stanley Range

All this fell out of the chimney - several barrowsful had already been taken out

Despite all the work, it was worth it, because we now have an extra metre and a half, plus a rather splendid stone fireplace. I cannot, for the life of me, understand why anyone would think filling in a chimney in that way and bricking up a lovely noble-looking fireplace was a good idea. Not only is the brickwork of the hearth beautifully curved, it’s also got some delightful lettering on some of the stones. A lick of fireproof black gloss paint has given it new life, and we also placed four square flagstones in front, ready for the new stove to sit on. The item we bought is a 120-kilo leviathan with a glass-fronted door, an oven and a cooking top in case we have a post-storm power cut similar to the one last winter that lasted in some areas for three weeks.

After that is fitted, we hope by the end of November to be able to get a bathroom and utility room installed in the back of the house. Soon after, the plan is to cover the ceilings in the main house with a decent layer of insulation, and then we will save furiously for a kitchen to go in a beautifully bright room next to the bathroom, where the water supply is. I would also like to break the window down and add a double door to the kitchen, so that it becomes the main point of entry from what will be the garden.

I hope that part will be ready by the spring. While all this is going on, in our spare time, we hope to get the bedrooms ready so that we can move into the house proper. After two and a half years with our possessions in storage, we are becoming a little weary of not being in full control of our own lives right now. But hopefully, by the late spring, we can send for them and repopulate the house with all the familiar possessions we know and love: the artworks we hold dear, the books we read and then placed in the library we built back in Saarburg, the toys and scooters, the remainder of the clothes, the heirlooms, the cutlery, the porcelain, the familiar furniture, the trinkets, the pots and pans, and all the other household stuff we haven’t been able to use since June 2023.

The two things I will never get back are my lovely garden and my beautiful covered terrace. I have a lot more land now, and I intend to turn it into a haven for wildlife, just like I did in Saarburg, but this will take time. In the meantime, I have plans for a new covered terrace but this will need special materials to survive the Atlantic storms.

Drumcard, Co. Fermanagh

Lough Macnean, Fermanagh

The one thing I have managed to recoup is the car. When we arrived in Dublin on 30 June, the car hire company had reserved a modest medium-sized SUV for us. When the employee saw the luggage we had (3 huge suitcases and 9 sports bags), he uttered the most obvious statement: “that ain’t gonna fit in the car I reserved for you.” So he upgraded us for free to a huge VW Tayron. It was an absolute monster, but it took all our stuff. We kept it for about 4 weeks, and asked if we could keep it for another few weeks while we sorted out a car.

Not having a credit history in Ireland meant it was going to be rather difficult to get a new one. In Cavan, the car hire has an outlet, and having taken the VW back in August, swapping it for a Skoda Kamiq, we decided we needed to buy a car outright: it was costing us over a thousand a month to hire, as Ireland doesn’t have many long-term leasing companies. But just across the road from that outlet is a Toyota showroom. If anyone was going to sort us out, it was the good people at Toyota. Near the end of September, I drove into the forecourt and went in to see what they could do for us. I was greeted by a kind man who happened to be head of sales there, and after telling him the back story, he said a most significant thing, and every other search we had for cars went out the window – “next week, someone is bringing in a Toyota Prius from 2016.” My lovely German Prius Plus was also from 2016 and was the single dearest possession of mine. This was an ordinary Prius and it wasn’t black but blue. I didn’t care: it had driven almost 350,000 kilometres and hadn’t been taken in a single time for repairs. The previous and only owner was a doctor, and he had looked after it with great care.

A couple of weeks later, the car was brought in to the man at Toyota Cavan, and I went there to take possession of it. I paid in cash a lot less than the vast majority of other similar models on Ireland’s online market website, DoneDeal. That website is astonishing: you can pick up a cheap wardrobe, a ton of peat, some sandstone blocks that used to be a wall, a 1920s lamp, or a cocker spaniel from a reputed breeder. You can find everything except someone to sleep with you, basically. And here I was, circumventing it and buying directly from the horse’s mouth, so to say.

The man at the showroom came clean to me: he wasn’t after making money from this deal; he wanted me to return to him in a year or two to buy a new car off him. He was investing in the future, and he was absolutely right. I will be going there to buy any new car, as the service I have received from Toyota everywhere has been faultless. Funnily enough, I used to work for Toyota Motor Europe in Brussels back in the early 2000s, and the man in charge of the department was an Irishman. What’s more, this gentleman sitting opposite me in his office knew the guy. Small world.

I took the car with me; I felt like I was going on a date with it. I had to pick up a parcel in Northern Ireland, so I drove this beauty across the heathlands, hills and lakes of Cavan and the Cuilcagh Range feeling like Jeremy Clarkson on one of his reviews with the customary spectacular backdrop. This car has even more features than my previous Prius, and even some gadgets from before their time. One of my favourite things about the Prius is the gentle acceleration and braking system. My main criticism of the VW and the Skoda was the sensitive brakes – one little press and you risked smashing your shopping into the back of the passenger seats. Not so the Prius – it is the smoothest ride of any car I’ve ever driven. Oh, and it has the turning circle of a particularly agile cat. I seem to have gone full Clarkson, so let’s move on.

We see more than one rainbow per week

One of my biggest discoveries has been the abundance of facilities for the self-employed worker. There are what are known as digital hubs all over Ireland, even in the smallest of locations, giving freelancers and startups a really generous leg-up. The one in our local town even has a studio and recording facilities. I will be going in there to record a series of podcasts for my upcoming online documentary on the history of the English language. In Luxembourg, to use the studio in the coworking space was prohibitively expensive. In Valencia, I found the designated podcast room had very thin walls, was next to a frequently-occupied toilet, and you had to bring your own equipment. Here, there’s everything from a green screen to a top-of-the-range TV with built-in camera that follows you as you move. And it’s accessible to everyone for a small fee, as all of these things should be.

What has changed concerning the food? One thing I really enjoyed in Valencia was going to the covered mercados. Every town has one, and they are usually rammed full of produce from cured hams to fresh-the-day-before fruit and vegetables, from 18-month-old cheeses to fish straight off the boat that morning.

Beef Rendang, My Kitchen by Sham Hanifa, Carrick-On-Shannon

So it came as a lovely surprise to discover that Carrick-On-Shannon has a covered farmers’ market every Thursday. What’s more, there are even more varieties of cheese than in Spain, and a wider range of vegetables too. There is also an excellent bread and Danish pastry stall run by a French woman who really knows how to please. The woman on the cheese stall is from Germany and lived about 20 minutes from our old house in Saarburg. It’s a small world, after all.

In our local town there is an excellent butcher’s shop selling some of the best meats around. In Valencia, one of the unfortunate criticisms I had was that the meat in most supermarkets and butcher’s shops was not particularly inspiring. There were periods of the year where we would be eating a lot of repetitive dishes. In Ireland, I find myself in the enviable position of having my imagination fired up day after day. In Spain, I used to cook only at weekends as the children ate at school, and we were in our office so we ate at the cheap local restaurants during the week. In Ireland, I cook 6 days a week – and we rarely have the same thing in a two-week period.

Chapter Food 6 Living, Cavan Town:

There are also a great number of cafés and restaurants in Leitrim with very attractive menus, and their sweet treats reflect one of the things I missed the most about these isles when I departed at the beginning of the 21st century: sticky toffee pudding, apple crumble, bread and butter pudding, treacle tart, Bakewell pudding, cinnamon buns, Eton mess, strawberry flan, creamy cheesecake, chocolate fudge cake or brownie, jam tart, trifle, carrot cake, scones with clotted cream and jam, Victoria sponge, banoffee pie, treacle tart, and lemon drizzle cake. These are just the ones I could remember: the list goes on and on, and I have yet to find anywhere that beats these isles for their sweet fare.

Creegan's Pub, Cloone, Leitrim

To give you some idea of the ease of social integration in Ireland, let me tell you a little story: according to a recent study by the European Commission, Ireland was ranked the loneliest country in Europe. But here’s the important part: most people are ready to strike up a conversation with you. It’s not weird to talk to strangers. However, it’s not easy to make friends in Ireland, but this has been the case everywhere I have lived. What I noticed is that in countries considered cold, like Germany, the UK and Ireland, people are likely to give it time but you’re not frozen out. And once you’re in, it’s locked.

I would say, though, the UK is easier to make friends but Germans are the sincerest friends you can find. All three countries, though, are far easier than Belgium, Spain, Italy or southern France. But it is easy to see why Ireland is a lonely country – you need a car to get anywhere, and there are a great number of houses located in places where there are no street lamps or even asphalt on the roads.

But once you get to the urban areas, even small villages, there is an abundance of life. The local town to us, population under 1000, is bustling all day. Even in the evenings there is a sense there’s something going on.

Then there’s Carrick-On-Shannon, population under 5,000, and about 2,500 people smaller than Saarburg where we lived for 15 years. And yet, there is more going on in Carrick on a Tuesday afternoon in October than there was back in Saarburg. Irish people have done their level best to maintain life in their town centres, although they are under great pressure at the moment due to the proliferation of retail centres.

The River Shannon at Athlone

Looking down onto Sean's Bar (left of the square), the oldest pub in Ireland dated from 900 AD

And these places aren’t by any means stereotypical backwaters. Carrick does have a huge supermarket at the edge of town where you can pick up a jar of harissa, find a few slices of San Daniele and a host of Asian spicy sauces, but the town centre has a number of attractive restaurants, niche cafés, and cosy pubs serving food. You want pierogi? No problem, there’s a Polish supermarket on the riverside. You fancy a beef rendang? Head to Sham Hanifa’s My Kitchen just over the river. Feel like a few petits fours with your flat white coffee? Try Cake Me Away next to the former post office.

There’s a lot in this tiny market town – top-range Italian, cheap and nasty Italian, Tandoori, proper burgers, full Irish breakfasts, Sunday roasts, steaks and barbecued ribs, bao buns, bibimbap, and for those who like their food tasteless, there’s even one of those fast food joints with the two golden arches, although I’ve never seen anyone going in or out of them. Incidentally, Carrick-On-Shannon was awarded the accolade of Ireland’s Tidiest Town for 2025. When you see the picture-postcard centre and immaculate streets, perfectly planted flower beds and freshly mown public parks, it’s not hard to see why.

Then, out in the hinterland you can find some very special locations, such as Jinny’s Tea Rooms in Drumshanbo; Leitrim village (population about 500-600) with its four well-appointed restaurants and hotels; Ballinamore’s Main Street with its row of pubs selling top-quality local food; The Cottage restaurant in Drumsna, owned by the TV cook Sham Hanifa; the three popular restaurant-pubs in Dromod, and the list goes on. Go in any direction for up to an hour: to Mullingar, Sligo, Enniskillen, Athlone, Cavan, even Longford, and you won’t have any difficulty finding some place with appetising food, busy shops, pub concerts and the like.

Dressing up for the school Halloween party

One of my main complaints in Spain was that each time I went to an event, such as the Fallas in Valencia, I wasn’t really made to feel too comfortable. The Fallas is a very good example of how difficult it is to socially integrate in Spain – they are clubs that have lots and lots of events, and their own premises. They have the power to close the roads outside their HQs for events, causing mayhem for through-drivers, bus routes and even pedestrians. It is almost an admission of their superiority in Valencian local life that a lot of politicians can’t get on the ballot unless they have been a fallero or fallera.

In Ireland, there is the GAA: the Gaelic Athletics Association. It is a ubiquitous organisation, considering every parish in the country has one. But the difference is, they organise events for everyone, regardless of their affiliation. For example, there is a Halloween walk organised by Cloone GAA at Bóthar na Naomh. You pay a fee online, you show up at the allotted time to Cloone Community Centre, and a bus takes you to the starting point. I mentioned Bóthar na Naomh before: it’s a wooded area with bridle paths and walking trails, fishing posts, bird watchers’ lookouts, all surrounded by rolling hills, a lake and meadows. But at night it is a formidable place.

It was actually an extremely well-organised and entertaining time fit for a blustery October night the day the clocks went back – we arrived far too early and decided to hole ourselves up in Creegan’s Pub across the road. It was a cosy little place with a bar that ran right round the corners into the four parts of the building. As we were really far too early, I decided to ask in the Community Centre if there was anything we could do and the organiser said we could get the next bus in ten minutes.

So I ran back to the pub, we hurriedly finished our drinks and crossed the street to get the bus. It took us to one of the entrances and we had to follow a path through the woods. One of the shopkeepers in town had said it was properly scary and her kids had had a massive fright, but I didn’t believe her. However, when we left the bus, we could barely see anything, and the children didn’t stop screaming all the way round. It went on for a good 800 metres through the woods.

There were firepits everywhere making the place extra smoky, demons, ghouls and banshees stalking us, there were witches chasing us, zombies harassing us, vampire bats in a tunnel we had to walk through with a lot of people dressed in quite elaborate costumes clattering bells or cackling fiendishly, a corpse sitting up and screaming then pinching my behind as I walked on (I wonder how many bums got squeezed that night… great work if you can get it!). They had turned a car on its side and put people inside who opened the doors upwards and wailed, one of them was up a tree desperately yelling for help, there was a being with a chainsaw, and there were flashing lights and eerie sounds every step of the way. There were empty stretches where you felt something was going to happen at any moment, and there was even a man who appeared on a horse wearing a long cape, threatening to take us to the underworld.

All-in-all, it was worth its 10 euro fee. Considering there were buses taking 14 people to the drop-off point every few minutes, I am sure they raised a lot of money for their charity. And that’s the thing – nobody earned a penny that night. Except for our local butcher who had parked his burger van outside the hall. When we walked back to the village along the street, thinking the experience was behind us, there was a goblin that gave us an almighty fright springing out of the window of one of the houses on the street.

We bought some burgers and chips from the butcher’s van and took them to Creegan’s pub to devour. Milda was a little bit exasperated by it all, Livia was relieved, and Dainoris was already planning next year’s event. I put a euro on the pool table and waited our turn. Suddenly, the wall went up and the pub doubled in size. By the time we had finished our game, the place was heaving like a Ryanair departure lounge ten minutes before boarding. There was going to be live music later that evening and everyone wanted a good seat. We shall return there, that’s for sure.

So what I can confirm is that Ireland may be the gloomiest part of Europe, which is already a comparatively gloomy continent, but it is a really enjoyable place. It’s a land that has found peace with itself and has found its calling. People go to the Mediterranean for sun, but they go to the Isles of the North-East Atlantic to gain new experiences, have fun, and enjoy all what they have to offer. On balance, there are some things I regret leaving behind in Spain, but on the whole, our lives are so much richer and happier now.

SUPPLEMENTARY PHOTOS:

Dainoris and Milda go for a walk with Aoife along the lane to the farm

We are frequently visited by the neighbours' chickens

Livia, in Aoife's kitchen

Dainoris and Milda enjoy the outdoors, whatever the weather

Dainoris is fascinated by animals

Red sky in the morning, rising above the neighbours' house

A rainbow at Carrick station

Morning sunlight

Evening sunset

Long shadows

The Barge, Leitrim village

The Samhain Pagan tradition is a time to reflect on human impact on our planet

Samhain - pronounced sáwin - is the Pagan festival that takes place at some point around the end of October and beginning of November, and is often mixed up with Halloween. Although it is pretty certain Samhain spawned Halloween, the difference between the two is on one hand very different, and on the other hand strikingly similar. The Samhain tradition is a celebratory rite where we reflect on those who went before us, and where the curtain between the afterlife and this life is very thin, meaning there may be some overlapping of the two worlds. We also spend time contemplating our own lives. The deep autumn is an important time to understand who we are and where we are going; to remember why we are here and try to reach out to our ancestors for guidance. Understanding the past helps enormously in identifying our current paths. Halloween, as we shall read, is very far from this.

Paganism is, for want of a better metaphor, a very broad church. There are lots of weird Pagans as well as a lot of serious ones, which means we are often targets of derision by those from what we might call the established faiths. There are no real Pagan denominations as such, like in the Christian or Muslim traditions; they are more like independent franchises without the fiscal aspect, although everyone has the same goal: to see the divine in our surroundings, and to revere and protect it.

The divine is very easy to come across in our eyes: the similarly pentacular features of many flowers; the soughing of the trees in the wind; the tides of the sea; the passing of the moon overhead and the shadows it casts; the smallest insect and the largest mammal and everything in-between; the shooting stars and the spinning planets; the incredible detail on the wing of a butterfly; the majesty of bees going about their daily work. The list goes on.

Samhain is the time of year when we witness the dying of the summer flora and fauna, and the retreat of vernal fecundity to its winter sleep, ready for the spring awakening. How do Pagans celebrate Samhain? Any way they choose, but some things remain fixed: a meal to celebrate the harvest; a fire to summon the spirits; a walk in nature (clothes are optional, depending on the time of day/night and the location); an altar with some of the features of this time of year (e.g. the skull of a wild beast, pumpkins, brown leaves or nuts) and the remembrance of those who went before us.

Why are standing stones so important to us? Because they are the permanent legacy of our forebears. One thing we have in common with our pre-Christian ancestors is the marking of the seasons and celebration of the life-cycle of the Earth. Many standing stone circles are calendars, marking the time of year. In spring, the Earth is like a youthful girl, evident in the retreat of the snow and the arrival of hatchlings, calves, lambs, cubs, seedlings and all other forms of life. She blooms into full fertility by June, where the abundance of food and fecundity is all around us. By mid-August, the Lady gives us our harvest before her fertility ends. In autumn she recedes into her grand old age, and in winter she becomes the old crone before once again dying in midwinter, allowing a new life-cycle to begin.

We are reminded of our own mission on Earth: to live, die, and live again - we can never reappear, but we can make sure life continues to do so once we have long gone. This is why I have planted a great number of trees in my garden: they, or their saplings, will live on after me, but they will also allow the birds, insects and other flora to thrive.

Our mission to maximise our efforts to spread the positive effects of nature is misinterpreted by climate deniers or sceptics as needless do-goodery. In fact, what we are doing has absolutely no bearing on the climate change debate at all: we do it anyway, because it is the right thing to do. The recent extremification of weather phenomena is worrying for us all, especially with the recent UN report that gives us a little over a decade to sort it all out before it's too late.

What is disappointing, though, is the attitude of various politicians following an agenda either dictated by their voter base or their party's biggest sponsors. I find it abhorrent that, despite the overwhelming evidence, nay proof, there are people who choose to ignore the situation for their own financial or ideological gain.

If you want to know what is driving current politics, just follow the money. If you want to know our future, take a look at the past. And let us be honest here: it does not look very good. Samhain is a time to put our flora to sleep and help them survive the winter.

As I touched on at the beginning, Samhain often gets bundled together with Halloween. The former is a commemoration of the past, the latter is a commercialised corruption of it, which has, like all other Pagan festivals, been subsumed by Christianity and/or popular culture. Halloween is a shadow of Samhain. It has in fact become the total opposite. Samhain is about remembering those who went before us, lighting fires and sitting in quiet contemplation as befitting this time of year.

Halloween, conversely, is making loud noises, disturbing the peace, and dressing up in scary costumes. Although the spiritual aspect of Samhain spawned Halloween, it was far easier to turn it into a money-making racket as a prelude to Christmas. This is, of course, a total fabrication of the original. Many Pagan festivals have turned into corruptions of the originals, mainly by the Catholic Church - Easter, Christmas and Midsummer's (St John's) Day being just three. The Catholic Church always had an ulterior motive in wanting to do away with Paganism, so it came up with ways to distract the people.

In order to vilify Pagans, and bring people into their "flock", they used the same fake-news-style tactic that is used today - take their symbols and turn them into socially unacceptable things. For example, why does the devil have a red face? Why are horns and pitchforks associated with Satan? Could it be that people from the country, farmers who obviously used agricultural implements, were more likely to be Pagan and have ruddy-red faces from the cold wind, and place horned animal skulls outside their doors to ward off evil spirits? Why did St Patrick kill all the snakes in Ireland? Could it be that the snake, the symbol of Paganism in his day, was a way to use a euphemism to say that he killed all the Pagans?

Anyone, whether from a Christian denomination or not, who dares say we are satanic should do a little more reading, as equating us with evil is like saying apples must be alien because they're green. It says more about the naïvety of their flock to believe everything fed to them by their elders than it does about us.

Finally, I will not be celebrating Halloween this year, not because of any irrational fear of some so-called Satan fellow, but because it is not who we are.