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Saturday, March 17, 2012

Sleeper Sofa on St. Patrick's Day

Ready to crash on the pullout couch at Sis and Don's in Connecticut. It's nice to be here. Sis made corned beef and cabbage and rented the movie "Hanging up," about three grown daughters and their Dad.

Thinking of my mother today--of the Irish record album she liked to play. It spun round and round on the stereo with mostly mournful lyrics, as my mother sat listening on the living room love seat. [The potatoes they grow small over there, the potatoes they grow small over there....] Thinking too of my Irish grandfather with the twinkling blue eyes. Jim Mahon.

Neither of them was perfect--no one is--and they both live on in me. The Irish eyes [my mother's a soulful brown], the gregarious personalities, the quiet contemplation, the love of New York City....the feet of clay.....the sadness, the fears...the Irish wit....the intelligence....

Despite the green moodiness that comes with it, I am proud to be Irish. No one can smile all the time. And one day I want to visit Galway, where my grandfather came from.

When Irish eyes are smiling, 
Sure, 'tis like the morn in Spring. 
In the lilt of Irish laughter 
You can hear the angels sing. 
When Irish hearts are happy, 
All the world seems bright and gay. 
And when Irish eyes are smiling, 
Sure, they steal your heart away.

Good night.

TCOY
  1. Early yoga class with Joe teaching. Very good. He's Irish and read an Irish blessing at the end.
  2. Walked Sug around block once.
  3. Nice walk near water here in Cos Cob with Sis and Sug. Sun glistening on harbor.
  4. One step at a time, one change at a time.


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