St Patricks Day

Some cause for celebration, I guess. The reproductive labor of the prolific loins and wombs of my Irish ancestors kept the English from wiping us out. But enough already. (Full disclosure: I'm 25% Irish and 25% Scots Irish. The rest of me is various types of Mediterraneans and Native Americans. People sure did get around in the good old days, and still do, I presume, although I would not know that personally.)

Anyway, this is the Irish Potato King in the Chicago River, which has been dyed Green for St. Paddy's day. My mother said that once upon a time there were so many kings in Ireland you could not throw a stone without hitting one.

If you want to make your own St. Paddy's photo, go here.  Thanks to Beancounters. What a fun site!

 

Ms. Mahoney: Your tea is very strong, Ms. Macarty.

Ms. Macarty: When I make water I make water and when I make tea, I make tea.

Ms. Mahoney: But surely not in the same pot, Ms. Macarty.

 

I always thought that was my mother's joke, but Joyce used it, too.

I saw a musical play in NYC a few years ago called God Hates the Irish, about a boy, Armless Johnny,  much teased and scorned for having no arms. His father would toss a ball at him and laugh because he couldn't catch it. And he tried manfully to care for his mother, even after she was dead. Imagine how hard that must have been for a boy lacking arms! Her song was, "Just Because I'm Dead," excoriating him for his neglect of her, the poor old thing. If the play had stuck to its send up of Irishness it would have been good, but it strayed away from its original idea. I guess it needed work, as they say.  The players were young and cute, though, so it was fun.

Most Irish story: James Joyce's The Dead.

The famous Irishman Jonathan Swift wrote the bitter satire, A Modest Proposal,  which has never been surpassed. In it, he suggested slaughtering and preparing Irish babies for the tables of English gentlemen, because Irish babies were born to misery and might as well be put to good use instead of suffering degraded existences. The Irish were the first full on victims of British imperialism. The stock drunken Irishman was the Step 'n' Fetchit of his day. Humor was and remains the first line of defense for the Irish.

Most damning portrayal of the modern-day Irish: Saints, Scholars and Schizophrenics: Mental Illness in Rural Ireland (1979.) by Nancy Scheper-Hughes.

I've never been to Ireland. Maybe some day.

Comments

[marja-leena]

Maybe if we all mixed ourselves enough, we'd all get along better?

[Hattie]

Well, as they say, everyone is 100% Irish on St. Patrick's Day. Even Finns!
We can hope for an understanding some day that as a species we're all in the same boat!

[naomi dagen bloom]

Thanks for an opportunity to link to you, you 25-per-center on one of your many ethnic celebratory days.