Tabhair póg dom, is Éireannach mé

'Tis always a special day for me, this 17 March.

Some years ago, I embraced the Irish portion of my heritage and began celebrating the day in earnest. I once had a pretty sizeable collection of decorations, music, green clothes and party recipes with which to enchant and amaze my friends. And I'm not speaking of green beer and Irish potatoes. I had a corned beef dish that people still remember. And Harp, my friend, no McCoors or O'Millers here.

Sadly, a spat with a red haired girl took care of all those bits, including a very special set of crystal shot glasses (Rita, I'll never forgive ya.)

Anyway . . . there's nothing quite like marryin' an Italian girl to spruce up the St. Patrick's Day celebrations. No one I know of can compete with the culinary skills of this wonderful woman (and her skin even has an olive tone). The luvly missus treats me each year to a wondrous traditional Irish meal, this year being the Corned Beef and Cabbage, and we listen to the reconstituted library of Irish tunes and imbibe of a few good beers. A trip to the homeland a few years back afforded us the opportunity to add a nice bottle of Black Bush to the liquor cabinet and tonight I'll toast the ancestors with a few good friends and a wonderful wife.

Pionta Guinness, le do thoil

Alas, I do not always drink that true symbol of Irish Brewing superiority for the black beverage found in this country cannot hold a candle to that found in any pub on the emerald island itself in terms of freshness. But the tale be told, it's a sadder one than that of freshness and taste.

"Why's that?" says you.
"American's are heathens when is comes to drinking Guinness." says I.

Not four days after returning from Ireland, my wife and I made our way to the closest thing to a real pub we had at the time, a high stepped place in North Wildwood, whose name I willna mention. We walked in the door, overhung by a sign claiming they proudly serve imperial pints of Guinness, and squeezed into a table and ordered our pints. When they came, they were served in plastic cups (16 ounces) and had quite obviously only been drawn once. If you dunna understand the problem with that, you're a heathen too, my friend . . . but today of all days me heart embraces you despite your ignorance and I pray the good Lord sees fit to save ya, despite your failings and your woeful ways.

May the road rise to your footfall
and the wind be always behind you.
May the sun shine warm on your face
and the rain fall soft on your fields.
May the friends that surround you be true
and the hearts that love you be dear.
And until we meet (again)
May the Lord hold you safe in His hand.

Of course, what would the day be without another bit of Irish Music. I include this song, as I can remember hearing it time after time on our trip, including an early morning alarm clock radio wake up in Kenmare, and a live version in Doolin by a local patron who stood up and entertained the crowd along with members of the band. I know my dear heart might not agree with me, but to live my life out on the stoney coast looking out upon the Aran Isles would go a ways toward making me content, were it not for the loved ones I'd leave behind in America.

And I'm sending along a contortion picture as well. I don't believe she's Irish, but she bears an uncanny resemblance to the banshee that has me crystal, and it does me heart good to see her twisted like a pretzel, through no fault of me own.

I'm It!

Tagging . . . who came up with this idea, anyway? And its a good thing that I actually read Katie's blog, else how would I have known I was tagged . . . huh? WOULDJA TELL ME THAT!!

Four jobs I’ve had
Farm Hand (Every one should get their hands dirty once)
Parking Lot Attendant/Valet (An awesome job, I've driven Ferrari's, Lamborginis, Bentleys, Rolls Royces, Panteras, Aston Martins, you name it, but my fave is still the Porsche 911S)
Dog Sitter
Actor/Director

Four movies I can watch over and over (Other than The Natural and Rear Window, All Time favorites of mine)
The Quiet Man (Oh, boy St. Patrick's Day is coming!!)
Kelly's Heros
Used Cars (Dated, but "That's too F---'in" funny.
LOTR any or all

Four TV shows I love to watch
Deadwood
My Name is Earl and The Office (Gotta count as one)
Ken Burns "The Civil War"
5 minutes of Telemundo every once in a while ( What does the "T" in the corner REALLY stand for?)

Four places I’ve been on vacation
Ireland (the best)
Lucca, Italy (the best)
Bimini, Bahamas (the best)
West, baby (two weeks with D & K that ranks way up there)

Four favorite dishes
Diana’s Caper Pasta (sorry Chris, I gotta go with the original)
The Ugly Mug's Ocean Burger
Most every dinner that Diana likes enough to make three times
Pizza Hut's Pepperoni Lover's Pan Pizza (can't help myself)

Four websites I visit daily
NPR
Ebay
Google
Comcast

Four places I’d rather be
Doolin, Ireland
Key West, FL
The open air market in Rome ( ah . . the olive bread)
1876


Four bloggers I’m "tagging"

nope . . . not doin' it

Soundtracks - Mbube

Listening to PRI's The World last week, I happened upon an interesting story about a South African migrant worker, Solomon Linda, who wrote a song in 1939, Mbube, that has since been recorded by more than 150 artists. What made this a story, is that Linda sold this song for a mere 60 cents and died nearly penniless in 1962. However, on February 18, an out of court settlement with a US publishing company cleared the way to make Linda's heirs exceedingly weathly.

Okay, so what makes this one of my soundtrack songs? One of the more recently recordings of Mbube was made by Mahotella Queens. If you listen, you may catch a clue.

Pete Seeger heard this song in 1952, and he changed the Zulu word Uyimbube to a nonsensical word, wimoweh, and recorded the song with his group, The Weavers. Then, in 1961, it became a number 1 song in the US for The Tokens. For my generation, it was known as The Lion Sleeps Tonight.

Back in the early sixties, I shared a room with my brother, and much of my earliest exposure to music was what he'd play on the old forties style radio that sat at the foot of his bed. Well, either that or one the the 45 records he'd play over and over and over and over after he'd broken up with one girlfriend or another. (Actually, this happened only once that I know of, but has attained mythical proportions within the family with a song called Patches. . . .Down by the coal yards. . . . but that's another story.) Anyway in 1961 I'd have been just about 7 years old, but I carry a distinct memory of lying in bed in the dark bedroom looking out at the Christmas lights around my window listening to The Lion Sleeps Tonight. More than any other song I can think of, this one evokes memories of those early winter nights when all thoughts were about the impending holidays. Memories of Christmas as a child are some of the most powerful. I can remember everyday being filled with excitement and anticipation. How even school became festive with arts and craft projects and special bulletin board displays. It seems like every Christmas was snow covered and every Christmas tree was lush and beautiful and silver in my childhood. Every nighttime seemed filled with cookie baking and sledding on the hill behind the house. Each trip in the car with my parents seemed like an event, and each ride home filled with caroling in the car and oogling the snow covered Christmas decorations of every house we drove by.

I suppose it isn't true, of course. But it doesn't matter. As I listen to this song, I am still transported to those Christmas memories of my childhood, whether they be how they really were, or how I imagined them.

I suppose even in these days of political correctness, kids still are making memories that they will think back on as adults when the holidays come around, but somehow those golden sheltered years of my early childhood seem like the best memories anyone could have ever had. How odd that it would be THIS song, written by a Zulu tribesmen almost on the spur of the moment while sitting in front of a microphone way back in 1939, that should evoke such powerful and wonderful memories for me.


For the back story of this song and it's many twists, this website is most informative.