Was something profoundly personal. Richard and I went to Ireland in 2007 (I think). We had promised to go to Europe every other year. But Richard was ailing and afraid that waiting for 2008 would be a bad choice, so we decide to sneak it a mini-trip to Europe. One week in Ireland.
It’s not a thing that can easily be described.
We made more trips to Europe, but this one was different,
more desperate. More real.
And until I read this, I had forgotten the possibility of joy
in adversity.
This writing, appropriately enough was the founding for this
blog. I forgot the send it to my sisters.
So “Sleeping With Saints” owes its existence to Ireland.
Ireland.
Our week is over. The plane was boarded in Dublin. It touched
down in Shannon and Newark, throwing its passengers to the wind. Twenty-four hours
later two weary travelers disembarked a jet in Portland, Oregon. Real life begins
once more. Ah, but the memories, the highlights. So many highlights.
Richard would tell you of the Book if Kells at Trinity
College, the intensely moving tour of Kilmainham Gaol, the fascinating visit to
St. Augeons Church. He would describe the streets of old town Galway and the
amazing train ride back to Dublin; talking politics with an Irish barrister and
the wife of an official of the United Nations.
Richard would be sure to point out that while we had
precious little sunshine, we also had remarkably little rain. He would talk of
great foods; from traditional Irish meals to an upscale going away dinner. He
would tell you of an amazing performance of “The Big House” at the Abbey
Theatre, the National Theatre of Ireland.
Mac, on the other hand would ramble on endlessly in
incomplete sentences, replete with dangling participles. He would have one
subject: Guinness. The tall, dark and handsome glasses off nectar that gave him
sustenance; that made his life worth living. Guinness takes on something of a
mythical aura in Dublin, much like the Champagnes in Paris and the coffee houses
in Amsterdam. More than a stout. Guinness is a lifestyle, a verb, a raison d’ȇtre.
I hear you. “Mac, while Guinness may be an unfortunate
lifestyle selection and a poor raison d’ȇtre, it is most certainly not a verb. You
seem to be losing your rudder in life!”
Well, I beg to differ. I Guinnessed until the cows came
home. To Guinness. I Guinness. You Guinness. He, she or it Guinnesses. (Actually,
it seldom Guinnesses, but it could if it wanted to.) We Guinness. You Guinness.
They Guinness. Conjugated. Proof of Guinness’ verbiness.
To prove the flexibility of the verb “To Guinness”, we shall
take a short test. (The answers are at the bottom.) Questions #1 through #3 are
true or false.
#1. Mac was so Guinnessed that he forgot how to operate a
zipper. Nature called. Mac narrowly averted an embarrassing situation with a pair
of scissors.
#2. Mac was down at the Rose and Thistle Guinnessing with
abandon. Suddenly he was sucked off his bar stool, into a gravitational warp
and thrown to the hardwood floor.
#3. After a long and hard day of Guinessing, Mac was headed
back to his hotel on Lower Abbey Street, when a design flaw in the sidewalk caused
him to stumble and fall, scraping the top epidermal layer off his face.
Questions #4 through #6 are multiple choice.
#4. Mac seldom Guinnesses before noon because:
a.
It is morally reprehensible to imbibe in
alcoholic beverages before 5PM.
b.
Mac is too busy cleaning house to contemplate beverages
that early in the day.
c.
Frankly, vodka us easier to get into the flask and
gives more immediate relief to the drudgeries of the morning.
#5. If Ralph and Trixie were to take up Guinnessing, it
would be prudent to:
a.
Buy stock in Guinness.
b.
Maintain a 5’ No-Saint zone around your aura.
c. Purchase rain slickers.
d. All of the above.
#6. When Guinnessing in mixed company, it is imperative to:
a.
Offer middle aged, black lesbians the first
glass of Guinness.
b.
Establish a logical and morally defensible plan
to ensure that all members of the party receive ample Guinness.
c.
Pull the fire alarm at the earliest possible
moment. After everyone has fled the premises, lock the door. If the door does
not have a lock, barricade the entrance with heavy furniture.
I shall always remember the amazing Irish people; their love
of their island, their optimistic outlook on life. From Seamus the bartender
and Rosemary the guide at Kilmainham Gaol to Mrs. MacNicholl the official’s
wife and Michael the barrister, they all showed an amazing pride in Ireland!
Slainte!
Answers
#1.
False. Mac always wore Levis 501s (with buttons). No zippers were involved.
#2.
False. Mac Guinnessed at Digger O’Dells where the floors were slate.
#3.
False. It was shoddy craftsmanship, not design flaws that made the sidewalks so
uneven.
#4. C.
Must I go into more details?
#5. D.
Come on folks, this isn’t rocket science.
#6. C.
Political correctness has its limits in day-to-day life.
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Slainte!
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