electoral district books for the 1840's. they are beautiful leather bound books with copper writing and calligraphy. the spelling of each name is not consistent from year to year. i find lacy spelled as l. a. krfrment y. e l. aechlt c. e. y. the books show the records of james lacy up through 1847. there are other tenants on the books. hanly, boshg, ryan, kennedy,llower and hoge an. i examine the rate books people were paying. they paid a tax shillings to the pound. another indicate the tax is paid and another indicate the taxes in arrears. james lacy was paid in full and

not in a rears. the tax in 1846 was cut in half from the previous year. the year 1847 shows something else. the people were taxed in may of 1847 and made to pay a 4 fold increase and in october of 1847, 15 times what they were paying in 1846. this amounted to a 900 percent increase in tax in less than a year. still james lacy was paid in full and not in arrears. i show the book to the librarian who knows i am reading papers to look for clearance notices and says, there's your answer now you know why they left. newspaper mentioned the establishment of insolvant commission. in commission states the tax afforded the clearance amongers the most effective means of getting rid of this agricultural

population. some landlords were praised as humane for forgiving 3-4 year's rent or accepting what people could pay. these landlords were in the minority and the landlord of cottage where nie family lived was not among them. rate payer books for 1848 is missing. the book for 1849 is in worse condition than the earlier books. theate book for 1849 is torn and muddy and appears to have blood stains on the pages. as if this book is telling me what happened that awful year. i search for james lacy's name and find it gone along with the other tenant and it is town lands as well. [applause] >> i think on that note i will read a poem, which is my book

among other things my quest to discover the family's connection or my connection to that history. and what happens there is the pursuit and the logical seeking after those signs. those material signs baptismal records and there is happenstance. that's what happened to me once when i went to ireland i staid at a b and b. there are a zillion every other house is a b and b. i hit on the one b and beshgs where the owner said, your last name is to bein i know where all the to beins came to ireland. i said, i'm all ears. this poem goes into that and the last part is a translation from an irish song, the ring.

>> i followed the winding coast road back from cove airny moore and her brother cast in branz at the center entrance head of a line at elis island looking as though they a choired dreksz in their own country. dim passage through american wait and coffinship the figures of a prior generation real to swells and sound effects each swollen in the ache of crossing. my father's ship united states streaming to the harbor, the way it steamed in the narrows below the rising towers of the bridge. above the keys, saint coalmans resided over the dock where my mother's mother waited and my father's forefather disappeared like vermon in the fields they

flooded home. i can tell you where the to beins first landed that invited me to the patio in the house glass of whisky regard in luminous in the long twilight. if you drive east on the way to gonegarvin off to the right you will come on the ring road where there are to beins from norman times. the name [inaudible] into our own name now. i had known history but not the place. so next day driving along the route each village seemed a station on the journey of return. kiely's cross i pursued the paper trail, unwound the breed of names through census and baptism each generation christening the last until it

was language on the tongue and the trail trailed to the mists of the unrecorded. now i was tracing a highway to ore gin the potatoes struck black with blight. metals and we was their faces swollen with fever. stench rising from the evicted burrowed. men like dogs scoured the fields. i saw in one cottage a royal of rats feasting on an infant. no one where i witnessed anything like it not in calcutta. the voiceless children silenced by hunger the bodies burned at night leaving i don't trace. descending the drum hills i turned off the main road following signs and i language

lost before i was born. this was land observe the land was renamed and hushed. what was left for me, generations gone. a purfume of smoke freshened my nostrils. pastures reached to the head of the bay. thick roads where locals greeted with slowly raised hands or a nod of a cap to my car the postcard my eye framed in it's longing. moony's pub where i stopped for a pint and slipped my quest. so, you are a to bein accomodating my english. they're all about here. she showed the photograph with dark hair and features unlike my own but a resemblance of an uncle. what was the ring happened on my chance or grace. why not trace through lost

norman crests or track dna to tribes 6,000 years gone from the banks. or further back through each human cell to african eve her grunts are tuning savannahs. i felt the gift shared from the bones later that night in the crowded room when all the instruments had gone silent and a man rose up shyly alone and sang sean moss one of the singer's songs. beautiful country, i take you to by the black water screens of the beast the thrush and the black bird sings sweetly and the wild deer over the mountains branches with fruits and blossom the and hives with honey. and the corn creek lifts it's cries in the grass. [applause]

>> your poem has a sense of place and you mentioned earlier the sensation of going to canada and what it felt like to be in that place in canada and in other opportunities to be in that land in ireland. i wonder if you can reflect and margaret as well, what were the physical experiences you were having and what was the importance ever going to the place by way of informing your story? >> i don't know if anybody seen there is a series on now on called african-american lives? >> yeah. >> and it remindses me so much of my experience and some of the things that were said that rang through for me are things like, if we don't know where we come from we don't know that we are

somebody. it's like, the effects of colonization when -- when our story is taken from us. in when our language is taken and we are disoriented and we come to a new country, we are not literate, it's a way to keep people oppressed. so, part of reclaiming ourselves as irish americans and having the biggest life possible means knowing everything there is to know about ourselves and our people. >> i will talk briefly about the going to saint john i set that trip up and 911 happened. and so i endsed up going on this journey back to where 3450i family came over a week after 911 which was a remarkable experience in itself because the airports were empty much

everybody was gone. until we got to canada where there was a crush of people moving through with added security and so forth. when i got to saint johns i went to the perish rejist ree. met the woman i spoke with on the phone and she gave me complete access to the archives. ship lists and when they came over 1550 or 1851. there was no marriage record. they probably got married on the boat which happened often. that's where i found out that the trade with the merry times and county cork was a lumber trade. they brought lumber over and humans were brought back.

profound history that, you know, my ancestors were a part of. not just mine bithousands and millions of people have this story deep in their background. i also found out the location of where my great, great grandfather was buried in saint johns which is ruinned by acid rain because they built a refinary over it. this is an irish american grave yard a memorial to the experience of coming over her in famine times partridge islands is where they had to go through. i stood about where the plot was which was a mass grave. there was no marker at all. they were buried together with the other poor in a little area. to be standing there in the

space where your great, great grandfather was and other members of your family and have no marker they are the grass. they are the grass underneath your feet or their bodies are. that is a humbling experience. we are part of a remnant if we think we are not we are diluting ourselves that genealogy searchs should humble you. because it's only traces left. there are only signs left. those signs are not empty. you know, they transsubstantiate the lines that were that were there that were gone and yet are somehow encoded in us. >> thank you.

>> the person i am excited to meet her. her book is called, my miserable, lonely lesbian pregnancy. please, partake our free pens. andrea. >> thank you for wearing my buttons. it comforts me to see sad faces. my miserable, lonly lesbian

pregnancy. tonight i am going to read, to snip or not to snip. >> conception. i drive to the california cryo bank. there's no waiting room. just a glass window. a woman changes me $350. a vile half the size of my pinkie encased. this way up. i head to the clinic. i carry the sperm box inside. it's unwieldy. this is my second attempt. so i know the routine.

the first time, i brought my friend. even some crouch shots. most people don't get good shots of conception. i feel confident this time, like i'm doing my part in the world. the war in iraq started. may be this kid will be a piece maker, a modern day jesus christ as this jew understands jesus. i don't know what does. week 21, everyone thinks i'm

having a boy. by everyone, i mean the waiter and my grandmother and neighbor across the street. i was getting out of my car and she yelled "your having a boy". week 22, my family is involved in an all out campaign on the names i'm considering. she mocks the mothers calling after their sons, sebastion. i didn't realize lisa is racist. makes me like the name more. i say good, because i'm hoping

for a fag. week 25, it's 4:00 a.m. and i'm give up for an hour. who do i do for circumcision. it's a covenant with god. it seems like they feel plenty of pleasure. may be we should reduce a man's pleasure. may be this was god's way of reducing a man's libido.

may be my son is not going to study the torah. we need to identify proudly. but then, am i imposing my will on my child? i can't have a child. week 30, i have an appointment at the hollywood birth center where i will have natural childbirth, which i don't recommend. alex is my primary caretaker today. i read your medical records, do you want to know if it's a boy or girl? yeah, but don't tell me. i ask if she had children. not yet i said. i said it sucks. then i try to be funny. do you think epidurals have

contributed. she opens my chart. is says you're having trouble holding urine. i pee every time i sneeze. may be i should wear depends. are you doing your cagels? let me teach you a way that will be fun. i think she's about to make a joke. as you squeeze, save, i love my body. four counts hold. notice your vaginal area

tightening. i love my body. squeeze a little harder. i love my body. good. that does make it fun, i say. alex presses on my belly and says seven pounds. how am i going to get it out? i am hoping for a super wide vagina. i will have one after the birth. i know this is not sexualy, ideal. i think lesbians like a super

wide vagina on their partner. the more she can shove in, the more sexual. you shouldn't sircumicize. do you have any articles about the benefits of circumcision marks a jewish boy. i know she's not a lesbian. then you don't understand.

week 31, i'm not going to sircumicize. i heard on the radio that thomas jefferson owned slaves. he bowed to cultural pressure. some things are just wrong. week 32, i make the mistake of telling my mom i'm struggling with circumcision. i don't think so. i think of the stuff that can get caught in the vagina. that's not nice. andrea. if this child is jewish. he needs to be sircumicized.

you don't want your boy to feel strange. that's true. i think my anxiety is fear of having a boy. i am terrified of boys. they are wild and smelly. i said, there is no way to know that. well i know for a fact you don't need it. like i wanted to talk to my dad about his penis. week 34, i don't have the double wide vagina i was hoping

for. with just six weeks to go. instructions for peroneal massage. lock hands. apply lubricant. extra virgin olive oil. hold the thumb in place for two minutes or until it becomes numb. slowly massage over the vagina. it's best done with a partner. instead, i take a back door

approach and use my finger. i have a lot of stretching to do. week 41, 3:45 p.m. it feels like i have to pee and poo. she says long contractions indicate early labor. she says call in a few hours. >> dana comes over. she feeds her tea while i'm having contractions. i am in active labor. i am surprised you're so calm.

i say, i'm surprised you're so calm. 11:30 p.m. dana drives to the birth center. i tell her right now i am not sad to do this. this is a solo expedition. i dark brown blob of slim e falls out. the mucous plug has to fall out. it's the mucous plug. i am in awe of dana.

1:30 a.m. i am naked. i modified downward dog. i think of the view everyone is getting. no one cares. 4:00 a.m., i am nine centimeters. i am pruned and exhausted. you are doing great dana says, i am not interested in being great. it's still nine centimeters. it's not time yet. she says me to blow out with my mouth. i say i might barf.