Remembrance
At the time of the tragedy, it was one of the worst fires in Irish history, but the following St Valentine’s Day (14 February 1981), 48 people died in the Stardust fire at a club in Artane, Dublin (48 had also died in a cinema fire at Dromcolliher in 1926). The Bundoran fire was for a long time not commemorated physically, although in the aftermath of the RTÉ programme the town council voted in favour of a memorial plaque to the ten victims. There was a reluctance to place a plaque on the site of the fire from both councillors and members of the new hotel’s board. The site of the Central Hotel lay vacant for several years, but is now occupied by the Grand Central Hotel and Apartments.
However, on Sunday 8 August 2010, a memorial to those who died in the hotel fire was unveiled in the town, exactly 30 years after the tragedy. Families and relatives of the victims attended prayer services in two churches and an unveiling of the memorial seat with the names of the victims inscribed on it.
Read more about this topic: Central Hotel Fire, Bundoran
Famous quotes containing the word remembrance:
“I have been told, that in some public discourses of mine my reverence for the intellect has made me unjustly cold to the personal relations. But now I almost shrink at the remembrance of such disparaging words. For persons are love’s world, and the coldest philosopher cannot recount the debt of the young soul wandering here in nature to the power of love, without being tempted to unsay, as treasonable to nature, aught derogatory to the social instincts.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)
“Let me approach at least, and touch thy hand.
[Samson:] Not for thy life, lest fierce remembrance wake
My sudden rage to tear thee joint by joint.
At distance I forgive thee, go with that;
Bewail thy falsehood, and the pious works
It hath brought forth to make thee memorable
Among illustrious women, faithful wives:
Cherish thy hast’n’d widowhood with the gold
Of Matrimonial treason: so farewel.”
—John Milton (1608–1674)
“Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night,
That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide:”
—William Shakespeare (1564–1616)