The title of my book Irish White Light comes from Newton's discovery that white light was actually made up of all of the colors. Life is like that. Irish life especially is like that. Having been the refugees in their own country, they welcome others. They welcome the things of refugees that can't be taken. They welcome the songs, the dances, the laughs, and the children. This novel/play is my Grandparents' voyage through that prism, mine is yet to be told and the great-grandchildren my cousins and I are raising will tell theirs. You can bet they'll have new color to add to that Irish White Light. My grateful dedication to my Father, his brothers and sisters, my aunts and uncles, to my brothers and sister and my cousins some of whom share these memories with me, some broke my heart by telling me once not only that they couldn't remember what my Grandparents looked like, but what they sounded like. Sound is so important to an Irish family. The songs, the jokes, the stories, the music, the love all are given with sound. My Grandfather's voice is in Irish White Light