St. Patrick's Day 09 thread

Dad was lucky. 4F...bad eyes. He spent WWII in Detroit- working in an office and serving in the National Guard. Dad was always ashamed of that and didn't like to discuss it, but I'm sure part of him was glad not to have gone.

 

Damn. Wish he didn't feel ashamed. Not like there was anything he could have done about it...

At my Catholic high school, we had class pictures along one hallway. Around WWII and Vietnam, those who were KIA have little black sashes the nuns made of ribbon affixed to them in the photo. Absolutely eerie to look at those pics. Sticks with me to this day.

 

Had some Irish stew and a few Guinness last night after work. That will probably about do it for me.

 

Don't mess with this guy if you see him out and about today.



And, of course, in honor of the day, courtesy of Jem Casey, The Poet of The Pick:
(Altogether now).



When things go wrong and will not come right,
Though you do the best you can,
When life looks black as the hour of night -
A pint of plain is your only man.

When money's tight and hard to get
And your horse has also ran,
When all you have is a heap of debt -
A pint of plain is your only man.

When health is bad and your heart feels strange,
And your face is pale and wan,
When doctors say you need a change,
A pint of plain is your only man.

When food is scarce and your larder bare
And no rashers grease your pan,
When hunger grows as your meals are rare -
A pint of plain is your only man.

In time of trouble and lousey strife,
You have still got a darlint plan
You still can turn to a brighter life -
A pint of plain is your only man.

 

I love the advantages from working day shift, but St. Patty's day during the week isn't one of them. So a buddy and I did our drinking this past Saturday. Tonight, a few friends from college will have a couple brews while watching George Mason get blasted by Penn State. Good times.

 

I'm with Ryan - the gals and I did our St. Paddy's Pub Crawl on Saturday as well ... though I may convince the husband to go out for a beer at our local Irish pub after he sets up his new TV.

 

Yeah, it wasn't my dad's fault he couldn't see worth a damn. But his father earned a Purple Heart in WWI, so there's the whole father-son thing.

My dad also once confided to me that he felt a little guilty about all the hot ass he was able to score during the war while most other guys in their early 20s were gone.

Fenian, thanks for Cuchulainn and Casey. No St. Patrick's thread is complete without them.

And may I add-

The Cadillac stood by the house
And the Yanks they were within
And the tinker boys they hissed advice
'Hot-wire her with a pin!'
Then we turned and shook as we had a look
In the room where the dead men lay
So big Jim Dwyer made his last trip
To the home where his fathers lay

But fifteen minutes later
We had our first taste of whiskey
There was uncles giving lectures
On ancient Irish history
The men all started telling jokes
And the women they got frisky
At five o'clock in the evening
Every bastard there was pisskey

Fare thee well going away
There's nothing left to say
Farewell to New York City boys
To Boston and PA
He took them out
With a well-aimed clout
He was often heard to say
I'm a free born man of the USA

He fought the champ in Pittsburgh
And he slashed him to the ground
He took on Tiny Tartanella
And it only went one round
He never had no time for reds
For drink or dice or whores
And he never threw a fight
Unless the fight was right
So they sent him to the war

Fare the well gone away
There's nothing left to say
With a slainte Joe and Erin go
My love's in Amerikay
The calling of the rosary
Spanish wine from far away
I'm a free born man of the USA

This morning on the harbour
When I said goodbye to you
I remember how I swore
That I'd come back to you one day
And as the sunset came to meet
The evening on the hill
I told you I'd always love you
I always did and I always will

Fare thee well gone away
There's nothing left to say
'cept to say adieu
To your eyes as blue
As the water in the bay
And to big Jim Dwyer
The man of wire
Who was often heard to say
I'm a free born man of the USA

 

Uh oh, could there be an avalanche of Blair Waldorf posts to celebrate St. Paddy's Day?

 

Well, if you've read my recent posts, it's not like I really have much to do these days.

 

WI:

My father went to Catholic School on the North Side in the late 1930s. When he graduated from elementary school, the head nun walked up to him as he was standing with his mom and dad.

"Someday you'll look back on this as the best time of your life," she told him.

"Bullshit," he replied.

For the rest of his life, he insisted that the subsequent beating he took was worth it.

And, yes, Mrs. Lono and I have toasted him with proper Catholic whiskey on more than one occasion.

 

And, because apparently we needed a reminder, this, as well:

My song for you this evening, it's not to make you sad
Nor for adding to the sorrows of this troubled northern land,
But lately I've been thinking and it just won't leave my mind
I'll tell you of two friends one time who were both good friends of mine.

Allan Bell from Banagh, he lived just across the fields,
A great man for the music and the dancing and the reels.
O'Malley came from South Armagh to court young Alice fair,
And we'd often meet on the Ryan Road and the laughter filled the air.

There were roses, roses
There were roses
And the tears of the people
Ran together

Though Allan, he was Protestant, and Sean was Catholic born,
It never made a difference for the friendship, it was strong.
And sometimes in the evening when we heard the sound of drums
We said, "War won't divide us. We always will be one.''

For the ground our fathers plowed in, the soil, it is the same,
And the places where we say our prayers have just got different names.
We talked about the friends who died, and we hoped there'd be no more.
It's little then we realized the tragedy in store.

It was on a Sunday morning when the awful news came round.
Another killing has been done just outside Newry Town.
We knew that Allan danced up there, we knew he liked the band.
When we heard that he was dead we just could not understand.

We gathered at the graveside on that cold and rainy day,
And the minster he closed his eyes and for no revenge he prayed.
All all of us who knew him from along the Ryan Road,
We bowed our heads and said a prayer for the resting of his soul.

Now fear, it filled the countryside. There was fear in every home
When a car of death came prowling round the lonely Ryan Road.
A Catholic would be killed tonight to even up the score.
"Oh, Christ! It's young O'Malley that they've taken from the door.''

"Allan was my friend,'' he cried. He begged them with his fear,
But centuries of hatred have ears that cannot hear.
An eye for an eye was all that filled their minds
And another eye for another eye till everyone is blind.

So my song for you this evening, it's not to make you sad
Nor for adding to the sorrows of our troubled northern land,
But lately I've been thinking and it just won't leave my mind.
I'll tell you of two friends one time who were both good friends of mine.

I don't know where the moral is or where this song should end,
But I wondered just how many wars are fought between good friends.
And those who give the orders are not the ones to die.
It's Bell and O'Malley and the likes of you and I.

There were roses, roses
There were roses
And the tears of the people
Ran together

 

If there's ever a day to dig you some Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem, this would be the day.