As thoughts of Spring fast approach with the start of the new year, those with Irish
heritage look ahead to St. Patrick's Day. Sayings like "luck of the Irish" truckloads of green
beer delivered to countless bars, and cashiers with clumps of green hair and shamrock and four leaf clover hair pins abound mid-March. So do the old jokes, "My grandmother Irene was Irish. When she stayed at our house she would starch EVERYTHING! One day I fell out of bed and broke my pajamas!" Actually I did have a grandmother Irene Riley. And I am Irish , so bound to take on some passion for the Blarney Stone on St. Patrick's day.(even though I don't drink!)
St. Patrick, by the way, wasn't even Irish! In fact, born to English aristocracy in the late 4th century, and of the real name Maewyn Succat , he was thrown in prison when he took on the role of Priest back in Ireland. There he learned about Irish culture and its people before being sent to serve as a sheep shepherd in remote villages. Allegedly, he hears the word of God, speaking through the sheep. The message was to convert every Irish citizen he could to Christianity ,which he did so until his death. Whether a blessing or a curse to the people is still debatable , and the Shamrock, a three leafed symbol represented the holy trinity.
Our well displayed four leaf clover represents something different. Good fortune is said to go to those who come upon it in the form of a pot of gold! The four leaf clover in mid century was employed as a symbol of luck as the Irish gold miners succeeding after travelling to Australia
during the gold rush after 1851.
Whether searching for god ,gold or laughter, with symbols , songs and limericks the truth is we celebrate the Americanized St Patty's after painful dues paid in history. The great famine in Ireland caused a huge immigration between 1845 and 1949. Absentee English landlords sub divided the lands of thousands of poor enslaved Irish families. The failure of the potato crop for one year caused wildfire sickness and 80% of the produce that was slave raised in Ireland was exported to England.
The Irish were starved on their own land, and the lucky ones were sailing on good ships to America. Many died in the coffin ships, that ran on Irish muscles and blood. Many also arrived only to be greeted by "No Irish Need Apply" posted signs on many business entry doors.
Despite the tragedies of the Irish past, a loving spirit still lives on, in songs, poetry, books
and preserves the memory of a fairy tale like place .The truth is good for us not to forget.
One of my favorite Irish songs, is the Green Glens of Antrim. I sang it in a one woman show I had written about a immigrant who works as a cook aboard an Erie Canal Boat. It expresses the lyrical beauty that's engrained in the Irish soul .
from the ...Green Glen's of Antrim(excerpt only)
Far across yonder blue, lies a true fairy land
With the sea shining over the shingle and sand
Where the gay honey suckle is luring the bee
And the Green Glens of Antrim are calling to me
Oh if only you knew, how the lamp of the moon
makes a blue Irish bay from a silver lagoon
You'd imagine the picture what heaven would be
Where the Green Glens of Antrim are welcoming me
.......
And I know every stone and recall every tree
Where the green Glens of Antrim
Are heaven to me
And I'll be where the people are simple, and kind... ( image by Sticks, www.cbsitcks.com)
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