Monday, March 17, 2014

GOD BLESS ALL HERE!

Why do I love St Patrick's Day?  Why is it as essential as Christmas in my annual pantheon of celebration?

It has never been about the green-beer-pub-crawling sort of revelry.  And I assure you, MY corned beef
Cardinal Paul Cullen, related on the green side 
and cabbage is not the washed out sort of mess that often comes out of other stew pots.  In fact this year I am not even going to have a chance to make "my" corned beef as my new housemate is not a fan of it (baked in Guinness and served over al dente steamed cabbage).  It will be all I can do to manage some colcannon tomorrow, after a big project is delivered.  So again, why?

I think the answer lies in my father, passed these twenty five years or more.  Somehow, in celebrating my very Irish heritage I am celebrating him.  I share his deep longing to travel to Ireland and visit the the places told of in family stories, learn about our ancestors.  It's a hope I haven't given up on.

So yeah, maybe my Saint Patrick's Day, and my writing of Irish tales, has a bit of the yearning that all children of the diaspora reflect. Or maybe I just loved my Dad, and I miss him.

How will I be celebrating?  It might not be all the corniness of "faith and beegorah", but I will be managing Corned beef and cabbage for lunch, and I will be reading Maurice Walsh's THE QUIET MAN in Second Life this evening, and watching the film with Mom (probably tomorrow).  My celebration might be a little like Sean Thornton's cottage in the 1951 film - with roses all around, the paintwork trimmed in emerald green and not the more durable red, and an Irishness that only comes from America. But my parents loved the John Ford film, and I have since fallen in love with the Walsh's short story - indeed with all his short stories.

Alas I cannot stream my reading tonight and share it, much as I would dearly love to - copyright still forbids. So I share these links with you who also yearn for a land beyond green, where the wee folk still dance around the oaks, and the air is ancient and fresh with heather.  ~ Slainte'

The Quiet Man - a short story by Maurice Walsh

The Quiet Man - an award winning motion Picture Directed by John Ford

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