By James F. Murphy Jr. The following article, written by my late father, was originally published in The Boston Globe Travel section on December 3, 1995.   Much like Ishmael in “Moby-Dick,” I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is damp, drizzly November in my soul, I head for Ireland.  Ireland? At…

By Sarah E. Murphy I stopped caring last year. Not about life, or living. To the contrary. I was reminded far too many times how fragile and fleeting this journey is.  I stopped putting my priorities on the back burner in order to please. I stopped denying my dreams by thinking I’m not deserving. I…