Ita McMichael 12/1/25 - 22/11/08

I t a was born in St James’s Drive in Belfast in January 1925, the second child of Jack and Catherine Bergin. Things weren’t always easy in the 20‘s and 30’s in Belfast and Ita soon knew the value of a strong supportive family. She spent time in her childhood with her Grandparents on a farm near Inver in Donegal and later she was to instill the same love of that place in her own children on family holidays there.

She attended St Catherine’s and then St Kevin’s primary schools and later St Domnic’s on the Falls Rd. She did a little teaching duties at Rosario Primary on Sunnyside St and also worked at the ‘Coop’ in York St before she entered her career in nursing at the Mater.

Wanting to expand her horizons in 1948 she travelled to England to East Grinstead, Sussex. There she tended to her patients, known as ‘guinea pigs’ - mainly airmen who had been burned in their cockpits during the War. Returning to Belfast she did Midwifery at the RVH but 1952 instead of taking up a post in Sligo she opted for midwifery in Ballycastle in the old Dalriada Hosp.

One night she and a friend went along to the Quay Rd Hall to join the Badminton Club. She met the Club Secretary, who insisted on getting her name and address as quickly as he could. He was a local pharmacist, James McMichael. Ita married James in 1953. Soon seven children arrived, all boys.

Despite bringing up 7 sons she always had other past times and over the years Ita got involved in the founding of Corrymeela, the local Writers Group, the Prayer Group and the Glynns Historical Society. She was great lover of Irish music and traditions and brought musicians to Corrymeela and held sessions in her own home.

The growing up years in the McMichael household weren’t always easy with so many boys around but Ita always poured calming oils on troubled waters. For anyone who knew Ita well during those years knew she was just as comfortable changing nappies as she was debating world affairs.

After boys had grown up she returned, at the age of 50, to midwifery in Ballymena and later came back to the Dalriada as a Staff Nurse. As one by one each son went off to University she missed the hustle and bustle but was always glad to see her family and their friends return on summers and holidays.

Ita always said she was blessed with her 7 sons but occasionally wondered if she would ever have a granddaughter. Along came the first grandchild in Galway, a boy and the second grandchild this time in Ballycastle, a boy, and so on until there was 7 boys again as grandsons – and Ita delighted in them all. Ita was so excited by grandchild No 8 in Wicklow – when she got news of the birth she drove into the town and told everyone she was now Granny to a new born baby GIRL!

She and James both took pleasure in creating individual special memories for all her grandchildren and loved their visits to Dun-a-mallaght and hearing all their news. Never having a daughter herself Ita found her daughter in laws were a terrific addition to her family.

Ita found writing a great outlet for expressing herself. In her retirement she gathered her poems together and the family have fond memories of her taking centre stage reading her poems at her book launch. The whole family were very proud of her writing. She loved the freedom that her writing gave her to explore memories and thoughts of Belfast, Donegal and Ballycastle and on her life experiences and being a mother.

Ita was very much an example of someone who could make people feel at ease and welcome and had a great understanding of human nature. She had a great sense of humour and would often be doubled over in laughter with the family around her. She was utterly devoted to her husband James and looked after him until his death just over 2 years ago. However her own health was also deteriorating. As with James’ passing, Ita will leave a huge gap in the McMichael family - she will be deeply missed by sons, Gerard, Malachy, James, Sean, Paul, Aidan and Eoin, their partners and by her sister Maureen, sister in law Mary, her brothers Aidan and Gerard and the wider family circle as well as her friends.

However the family are left with a wonderful memory of their mother, a strong Irish mother who instilled in them a sense of love, learning and an interest in all things around them as well as a sense of independence and practicality. They very much felt Ita’s understanding and unconditional love.

In Ita’s own words:

“...a sponge without its watery soul
shrivels and grows hard,
no longer functional or whole;
so Mothers, like human sponges, keep on absorbing,
wearing love like a garment..."

From her poem 'Mothers' in North Antrim Fields, Page 38

Day dreams at night

The song of a half remembered self
is out of body proof of once being there.
Green shoot thoughts
push through my mind's leftovers,
what seemed by day of some import
at night looks trivial.

Red letter days recalled
first hormonal stirrings
childbirth and mothering,
a satellite always circling others.
Along a path of wakefulness
Morpheus at last come creeping,
bringing sweet oblivion.

From Pink Flamingo - New and Collected Poems by Ita McMichael page 98 Impact Printing ISBN 0-948154-446-2

Retrospection

In that veiled suspended state
between sleep and wide awake
I climb inside my head
to walk on Black Mountain
and baulk white marbles in Falls Park.
With banana box ropes
I swing round lamp posts
'til a lamplighter with a pole
ignites the gas.

In the Bog Meadows
snipe and waterhen fall
to a rifle's crack;
innocent of the significance
I play in a natural habitat.

From Flamingo Pink New and Collected Poems page 56 Impact Printing ISBN 0-948154-46-2

Paul

He studied outdoors on sunbright days
under a Cherry bloom awning,
listening to his transistor.
Lifting his head when she brought
him a fruit juice drink
he looked at her quizically
as if to say
Shall I tell her now?

She gave him a kettle and cutlery
for his bedsit
when he departed for College
but somehow couldnt throw out
a toy hammer from his old toolset.

He bought her a cordless phone
to take to the garden.
She sits breathing yellow Broom scent.
When he calls asking 'Anything new?'
the air is heavy with what is between them.

From: Catching Breath Ed.: Brendan Hamill, Glandore Pubishing 2001 page 32

Storms and seals

In the Manor House
loose window frames
rattled through the night
cheating me of sleep;
taking me back to the fiercer time
of feuds and quarrels
among the clans
and life was cheap

Next day in the calm
that usually follows a storm
black seals bobbed their heads like bouys
or lay camouflaged on wet rocks,
their whiskered faces wise
with secrets of the deep
never shared with humans.

From 'Let me take you to the Island' a Rathlin Island anthology, Ballycastle Writers Group 2001 page 23

Mothers

Human sponges mothers soak up hurts
Filling their innner space
With family tensions fears
Wounded egos to be nursed
Within an emotional embrace
Saturated bursting into tears
Frayed nerves overwrought
Tolerance stretched and thinned
Striving to be fair but caught
'Tween the finely tuned and thick skinned

A sponge without it's watery soul
Shrivels and grows hard
No longer functional or whole;
Mothers go on absorbing
It's the nature of their role.

From Ring of Voices edited by Anne Lambert ISBN 0 948154 91 8 1996 page 55

Komodo Island

Turkey sized indigenous birds
on Komodo Island
hollow out a nest with feet;
the female lays her eggs
and with the male replaces the earth
both wander off for food.

With deep primeval urge
a dragon lizard slithers to the hatchery
consumes the incubating eggs
and lays her own,
making a getaway
before the absentees return.

Lizard offspring evetually emerge
and crawl to independent life
leaving empty shells
and confusion in the parent birds.
The lizard doesn't always
have the upper hand,
nature sometimes puts the birds
on 'Red Alert'
to stand on guard.

from Flamingo Pink
page 7