Irish Weekend Redux
Well ‘twas Irish weekend past and there was the jam-packed imagery of so many sights and sounds that it’s difficult to unpack them all. The Hooligans were their marvelous selves and I drank one beer pre-noon for toasting purposes and to yell “LUNCH!” at the proper moment (i.e. during 'Finnegan's Wake'). And one beer was all it took, the music was so good. The smell of peat carried from the turf shop as the sound of music responded back. Ham o’ Bone was a no-show, protesting that alcohol is dead to him, which is a bit of non-sequitor since drinking is not required. And since he drinks twice or thrice a year now anyway, I ask how would he know?
Irishfest holds a certain timelessness begat by timeless jigs and reels that go on for periods of time that stretch timelessly. There was the familiar shops holding the gem squares of Irish CDs and t-shirts and varia. There were girls in various stages of immodesty and at the other extreme a man walked by with “I love my German Shepherd” with a picture of the Pope on the back. Fr. Hayes held forth as a 13th century Celtic warrior. It’s good to see some things ne'er change.
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