Theme from The Quiet Man as sung by Bing Crosby
And, if you missed it the first time, my husband’s and my visit to Ireland in May 2011.
Ireland Vacation from Darleen Click on Vimeo.
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Kiss me, I’m Irish.
We Scots came from Ireland and brought the best of it with us — and then made it better. #KissMeImScottish
No offense, cousin, but I’ll have a wee dram instead.
Bittersweet St. Patrick’s day here, with the wounded Irish side’s loss to the Azzurri in Rome earning the wooden spoon, and what was likely the last appearance of the great Brian O’Driscoll for the Irish.
Don’t ask me. The best my “people” ever came up with was der bier und wurst day.
A bee-er unt a vusht’ in the now dying (if not dead, my Mom already a tangential speaker is 80 now and all her sisters and brothers are gone) gernglish local dialect. Uffda.
It was very sad for reading an article about how that central Texas German farmer enclave patois dialect is fast disappearing and realizing that I was in the middle of it my whole life and never realized it and now I am 40, and it is indeed almost gone. The isolated enclave life was first broke open during WW1 when English speaking and bond buying in public became a good thing to do to avoid the occasional beating or vandalism. By the 50’s kids were moving tot he city. By the 80’s they were selling the old family farms or putting a summer house out there and renting the land. Now it’s just about over. Both the catholic and protestant sides of the 1880’s immigration wave have finally melted. In another forty years the people who remember even seeing it in its waning days will be gone or going.
Meanwhile in Mexico there are still Gunther towns that barely speak spanish and the Mexicans love to spread wild rumors about strange religious rites and such despite the fact that most Gunthers in Mexico are catholic which is why they were allowed to buy land and settle there in the first place.
Typing all that made me want to read Ecclesiastes again. My only comfort when I ponder the worldly cycle of everything being raised up and plowed under is that it was seen and will be remembered only by the immortal god who watches all and that it is only his sight and judgement of it that gives it any meaning at all.
Alec, O’Driscoll may not play in the green again, but I expect to see him in the centre for the Lions tour of Oz this summer. He did finish his Irish career on a bit of a low note.
St.P.’s day again, 17 years the anniversary of that beautiful half-warm breezy early spring day in Philly, driving with the window down, elbow out, when suddenly, about mid-day or a little earlier, there was that dude, upside-down, 15 ft in the air in his Ford Bronco on Poplar St., headed in my direction.
Damnedest thing a car upside-down in the air.
I didn’t see him launch but only picked him up when there he was, suspended — albeit in motion — in mid-air while returning home from dropping off the kid, there, coming my way (but how far my way! Couldn’t tell, for want of seeing him launch!). That was one long-assed interval.
And then — BANG! — he lands on the car’s lid, skidding well short of my pickup, well short, even, of the sedan in front of me. Lucky stars. Yeah, that’s it.
A Bronco catching air is only good if it’s a Denver Bronco. Or a Boise State one.
Ah, a sad day all around. I saw the “stomp.” Your lips to the Lord’s ears on the Lions tour.
SW, for some levity:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r95VILKbOxg
If that’s twue, Alec, tell me, Schatzi, is it twue what they say about you people being gifted?