My column for The Scioto Voice, Jim Kegley
High Notes 11-07-2013 – Angela Gorman
Angela Gorman, is the “Irish Mom” who declares that fact on her auto’s license plates. She is my neighbor on Bihlman Drive, Portsmouth, who grew up in Belfast, Northern Ireland, and she told me a couple of stories about recent adventures she’s had while walking the neighborhood. Ms. Gorman likes to walk early in the morning. One recent morning she passed by a car, which was parked in front of a house,
and she noticed a lady’s purse sitting on the sidewalk next to the car. Angela
is one of those persons who responds to such situations and is eager to
help others, so she immediately went to the front door of the house and
knocked loudly, until a lady answered. The lady was in her house clothes, and seemed unhappy at being wakened so early, until the purse was pointed out. She
than exclaimed, “That’s my purse, I must have left it on the sidewalk
as I was taking my shopping bags from the car last night…that’s my life
in that purse!” Angela retrieved the purse and the lady was very thankful, she said.
Angela
continued with her story as I visited with her last week, “I was at
Wal-Mart a few days later, and while standing in line waiting to
check-out, I noticed a young man behind me, and he seemed too close, so I
turned to look at him, and he was smiling broadly. I thought that was strange, so I turned back around and tried to ignore him. He moved closer to my left shoulder, so I turned again and looked at him, at which time he said, “You live in Forest Heights, don’t you”?
Well,
I felt uncomfortable at the situation, and turned back around to ignore
him, and he said, “That was my Mom, whose purse you found! I’ve seen you walking in front of her house.”
“Phew, was I relieved!” Angela said.
“Then a couple of days later, I was walking east on Coles Boulevard, and just past Howard Street, I heard a strange whimpering sound. It was coming from up the bank among some shrubs, so I cleared them away and found a small injured looking dog. At
that same time, I saw a man walking another dog on a leash, on the
other side of the street, so I called to him, and ran to him and
explained the situation. He then hurriedly accompanied me to the injured dog. When he saw the dog, he started crying, and said, ‘That’s my dog, Coco,
and I’ve been looking for him
for two days,’ as he took him lovingly into his arms. I don’t know the
man, nor have I seen him since, but I’m glad he was able to get his dog
back,” she said.
Perhaps
Angela learned how to respond to adversity early in her childhood, as
she and the rest of her family had to leave their beds during the night
hours and go to nearby bomb-shelter trenches when Adolph Hitler’s Luftwaffe rained terror onto the city.
Luftwaffe means “Air-weapon” in the German language.
I wrote a column several weeks ago featuring Angela, and her book “An Irish American Dream” her memoir she published back in 2001. Angela is a healthy, active and fit woman, whose list of medications is “One multi-vitamin a day”. She loves to tend her flowers and the flowers which grace the front of the office space for Forrest Heights, across from her apartment.
Angela, her husband, Joseph along with their twin girls, Joyce and Linda settled in Portsmouth from Ireland in 1953. Her other two daughters, Colleen and Sonja came later.
Angela said her book has become somewhat popular again, and as some of her neighbors have learned about it they want copies. To me the book seems like her love letter to Portsmouth, and its people, and to America in general, and her poem, Beautiful America expresses that love best.
Beautiful America
Angela Gorman
I know you are probably thinking I have the title wrong
But there is logic to my reason as I sing this song
For those of you fortunate to be born in this great land
Grew up with freedom and its beauty at your hand.
To some it’s just a way of life and taken for granted
But to me this land is precious as a seed I have planted
You see, I’m from the Emerald Isle; that’s beauty in itself
But forty shades of green do not fill the pantry shelf.
I learned this at an early age, so I began to dream
Of one day going to the land of milk, honey, and cream
The only country in the world that could fulfill my goal
Was the one that had freedom and beauty to behold.
So my Beautiful America, the land of red, white and blue
It’s the gracious people here who made my life anew
They are loving and caring and they’ll go that extra mile
I call it Beautiful America and always say it with a smile.
