Well, since Josh and Berno want to know, here it is, my Ireland story...
It all began when I was a youngster walking through the rows of books at the Hempstead County Public Library. There was a video that depicted the poem "The Owl and the Pussycat," a poem loved by vast amounts of Irish children, in animated form. I fell in love with the poem. Little did I know the effect it would have on my very being...
Later in my youth I read Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift, who is of course Irish. Great book! Anywho... in eleventh grade I read "A Modest Proposal," which is also by Jonathan Swift. It was hilarious! By then I knew that there was something different about the Irish. I went on to read more poetry by Irish folk, and eventually read my favourite book ever. Angela's Ashes. I recommend it to everyone. The humor, the wit, the story, the plight, the River Shannon, it all put things in perspective. Of course, then I had to read 'Tis, which was just as witty. This led to the reading of Frank's brother's book, A Monk Swimming. Malachy is every bit as good a writer as the brother.
Thus, being intrigued by the little I knew of Ireland's history, I read up on the subject a great deal and fell in love with the place. How could one not want to visit such a place after seeing just one picture!? And everything about it is so interesting... the history, the legends, the traditions, the language, the plight, the culture, the music, the names, the immigrants, the troubles, the literature, the food, the climate, the landscapes, the pint... there is no end to the reasons I want, no, need to visit the Emerald Isle. Perhaps I shall live there one day...
I could raise sheep and own a Bed and Breakfast for people all over Europe to praise. I'd drink the pint every now and then when I need a break from the children, John Liam and Carmen Beatrice, who would of course be hurling stars and support me in my old age as I am feeling the effects of the damp from the River Shannon. Moore and Broaders will come back to where they belong and provide entertainment for the aging seashell, and I will eat fish an' chips all the day long. Then my ashes will be scattered across the great Irish landscape.
May no Cluricaun steal my sheepdog for a race,
seashell
