Every #spring a St. Patrick’s Day

2018-032-15

Happy St. Patrick’s Day.  I’m a Canadian every other day of the year.

When I was a boy, my godmother bought me a coffee table book celebrating Ireland.  It followed that in grade school, I thought to turn a work assignment about other countries into homework on the subject of Ireland.   I flipped through the book to do the research (that I could do at that age) for the teacher.

2018-032-15
St. Patrick

The photos in the book illustrating Irish women helped shape my attitudes to the fairer gender, as well.  I briefly visited the UK in the fall of 1999, but I didn’t go to Ireland.

There is a friend I know whose parents are Irish.  This friend is not fond of the English, despite what I know from grade school about the role the English played shaping Canada.

At the same time, this person has a different understanding of how the Irish fared in history than I have got.  That said, when my mother asked me the other day whether I am prouder of Dublin or Belfast, I found myself answering Belfast.  Until then I didn’t know I felt that way.

I was born in 1977, two days before St. Patrick’s Day.  My mom and dad named me Patrick, after my father’s late brother Patrick.  This uncle died when he was a young man, in a motorcycle accident (he was riding).  My name remembers this Uncle Patrick of mine, and of my brother and sister.

My mom and my father’s mother had a bond.  When my mother was young, the two women would speak to each other privately having a coffee or Coca-Cola together or the like.

Another time In grade school I was instructed to ask questions about the family line. I brought to my paternal grandmother the question of the origin of our name.

I never knew my paternal grandfather.  He’d died before I was born.  I suppose I assumed we are an Irish family.

My grandmother let me know that the surname she took when she married is Welsh, of all matters.  At that age, I was not aware that Wales is a principality of Britain, or otherwise knew anything about it.

Many years later my brother took a strong interest in the Irish.  He went backpacking there with one or two of his friends.

He later researched our family line, and he learned of many of our living relatives in Ireland.  I am sure it is an Irish family, whether the surname is Welsh.

I work for my father as a cemetery groundskeeper.  When we were at the cemetery yesterday, handling a funeral, for which we were responsible, to my surprise, as we wrapped up our clean-up, we saw a hailstorm!

Louth United Church and Maple Lawn Cemetery

The spring solstice ahead:  it doesn’t feel like it.  Last week my father reminded me of the old expression, “In like a lamb, out like a lion.”  That’s what my father was predicting for the month of March here.

About Ireland, I know it is hard when times are tough, and I am empathetic of others experiencing suffering.  If you are Irish or love the Irish, God bless you.  It’s your chance this day, as it is every year, to be Irish.

I hope you’re having a great day.  Naturally, you are welcome to “like” this post, to follow my blog and/or to comment.  Thank you for having an interest.

The cemetery where I work with my father is on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/LouthUnited  My duties for the work I do are nominally tied to the posts I publish in this blog.

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Today Was a Good Day

July 16, 2015 was memorable because we were operating a back ho.  When I first learned that blogging could very easily be included in the operation of a small business, I was keen to get started and to have some fun doing it.   My introduction to WordPress I taught myself by learning with two WordPress poetry tutorials some tips on creating poems and while I didn’t intend to stop with poetry, I thought I would include some of the poems I wrote for the WordPress courses here.

These are photos I took that day of Peter, the senior manager of Maple Lawn Cemetery in St. Catharines, working on the cemetery grounds with a rented back ho, including digging a six-foot deep burial plot we required getting down for a funeral.

water

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The animals drink Thirst is quenched like airy breezes Who has provided?

journey

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To dismantle my pal was inclined Bold to bring down forever a bind Upon searching his soul Being sought by patrol Bliss of marriage and bounty his find

landscape

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my impressions tailored to the past updating from one to the next a lost dude where no one walks If there was once a man inside this, only was he there briefly. In other circumstances, someone else might have been thinking for him, but in this case, he believed he was responsible for his own thoughts. They were of his own devising this man was put here only for this single purpose, of making these thoughts. He was not to tread away Only when the setup files were completed, would he be set up and ready to run.

Poetry, Day Four — Imperfect, Limerick

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How many hours a lifetime is dark?At a point of vantage I park-the only light a star Shining down from afar In my virtual journal I mark