When I was a tot I remember always being jealous of the Irish kids on Saint Patrick's Day. Here was a day only for the Irish. We got to hear that there's no smile like an Irish smile, there were no finer people on Earth like the Irish. They got to have a holiday all to themselves, got to take off school and go to a parade. And you couldn't join in the fun unless you had an ancester in old Erin.
Then when I was in college, I roomed near a group of Irish American patriots who would go to MacSorley's on Saint Paddy's day and come back to the dorms full of the magic spirit of County Cork. Then they would get drunker still, break a chair or two, perhaps have a good fist fight, and celebrate the wonderful day in their own way.
Today, however, the day seems diluted. It starts too early for one thing. The day after Valentine's day, the stores start decorating with shamrocks and leprechauns. The parades start the first week in March. People who have no Irish blood at all start eating Irish soda bread and drinking Guinness beer. Everybody it seems is Irish not just for a day but for half a month. Saint Patrick's Day. Bah humbug. Time for another Irish coffee.
E 'una città bushwa., Είναι μια πόλη bushwa., Het is een bushwa stad., Is baile bushwa., Это вздор города., 這是一個 bushwa城市。, انها مدينة bushwa, Is baile bushwa. However;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FAoePg3fGLM
ReplyDeleteIn other words Don. I think that your the sweetest, most interesting man I know(like the best).
ReplyDelete"It's a Bushwa town" (Lead Belly). Were all in the same boat when we are little and niave. And although the grass is greener on the other side of the fence,sometimes it isn't. I felt awful about having red hair my entire chilhood and now I love having red hair and being a red head. I still envy people that don't sweat for no reason; like I do. Susan
There's nothing like little Orphan Annie hair
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