Den, I don't think I have ever heard anyone postulate that the Pearse's were anything but caring and warm people. Everything I have read about the time at St. Enda's paints a picture of a passionate and caring family.

You are sure correct about the other leaders of the Rising. History always settles on a few leaders. I think it makes the telling easier. But it doesn't take much effort to find the contributions of Clarke, Kent, Plunkett, MacDonough and others.

I believe that powerful times are a convergence of a number of factors, such as political conditions, economic conditions, and the presence of powerful people who are willing to lead. In my own lifetime I have witnessed moments where you knew that the conditions were right for mementous change. And I always found myself praying that the right person(s) would step forward. Because the line between wonderful change and horror is very thin. Let me illustrate. Once there were two men. Both had the gift of bardic voice. Both could make masses of people do their bidding simply by suggestion. They lived in turbulent times, and change for their people was needed desperately. History has recorded their stories. One was Mahatma Gandhi. The other was Adolf Hitler. This is why I feel it is not a shame when people of honor do not pick up the mantle of leadership when they should. It is a mortal sin. The Brothers Pearse understood this. So did Connolly, Ceannt, Clarke, MacDonough, Plunket and the others. And it is why I have resolved that when I am in a circumstance that requires leadership, that I will do everything in my power to find the right person, or step into the breach myself. Because the other conditions will conspire to produce change. Good or bad is dependent on the person who steps up.

The story of Joseph Mary Plunkett and Grace Gifford is one of the greatest love stories ever written. It is about two young people, madly and immortally in love. These are two timeless spirits who grace us with their presence every so often. Of them, great love stories are written. When Plunkett left his sick bed to go to the GPO, he knew he would likely not survive. When he was captured and sentenced to die by firing squad, his beautiful Grace came to him in his cell. Knowing full well that he would not be alive in a few hours, she married him in the prison chapel. They were not even allowed to kiss. The next morning he was taken out and shot in the yard of Kilmainham jail. God be good to both of them.

There have been several threads on this song and story. Set the "Search the Forum" engine to "Grace" and you will find them.

All the best,

Big Mick