 
Tponetom
Member
Username: Tponetom
Post Number: 218
Registered: 06-2007
| | Posted on Sunday, February 10, 2008 - 3:26 pm: |    |
This is not a thread of any relevance to the vast majority of Forum members. Rather, it is an appeal to that downtrodden minority known as, "The Irish."
Many years ago, I Heard? read? or was otherwise exposed to the following aphorism, saw, adage. axiom are maybe it was just the inebriated ravings of one of my blood relatives.
The statement was this:
"The three most beautiful things in the world, that an Irishman holds dear, are, A pregnant woman, a potato plant and the third thing is______________________?"
For the life of me and all my claims to having an excellent memory, I cannot recall what the third thing was.
This is not a frivolous request with some kind of a punch line or a joke. There is a lovely answer and that answer has escaped my demented, tormented mind for lo these many years.
To the nay sayers who might rebuke me for posting this request through this segment of the Forum, I plead, senility. |
Homer
Member
Username: Homer
Post Number: 266
Registered: 08-2004
| | Posted on Sunday, February 10, 2008 - 3:52 pm: | |
a bottle of Irish whiskey
the key to the liquor cabinet
disability check
his dear mother
corned beef sandwich
two nickels to rub together
I'm sure you can think of a few more........ |
Tponetom
Member
Username: Tponetom
Post Number: 219
Registered: 06-2007
| | Posted on Sunday, February 10, 2008 - 4:57 pm: | |
Homer, all of those are extremely relevant but they do not quite ring the bell in my memory tower. 'His dear mother?' is a good possibility. And yes, I am addicted to Jameson's Irish Whiskey
Your over all menu is excellent. Most palatable. Love it!. |
Ravine
Member
Username: Ravine
Post Number: 1919
Registered: 01-2006
| | Posted on Sunday, February 10, 2008 - 9:48 pm: | |
Tponetom, sure'n I regret to say that I do not know the answer to your question, but your mention of your heritage prompts me to ask if you have read the fabulous memoirs of Frank McCourt, "Angela's Ashes" and "'Tis." If you have done so, I am certain that you must have enjoyed them as much as, and quite possibly more than, I did. If you have NOT read them, you MUST. |
Bearinabox
Member
Username: Bearinabox
Post Number: 530
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Monday, February 11, 2008 - 12:50 am: | |
A fiddle? My Irish twenty-five percent says that belongs on the list somewhere. |
Ravine
Member
Username: Ravine
Post Number: 1922
Registered: 01-2006
| | Posted on Monday, February 11, 2008 - 9:57 am: | |
An obvious candidate is "a pint o' ale," but that is so obvious that I'm sure Tom thought of it. |
Gannon
Member
Username: Gannon
Post Number: 11569
Registered: 12-2003
| | Posted on Monday, February 11, 2008 - 11:45 am: | |
If a decent Irishman, he should be holding a Guinness Stout or near-equivalent! |
Tponetom
Member
Username: Tponetom
Post Number: 220
Registered: 06-2007
| | Posted on Monday, February 11, 2008 - 9:36 pm: | |
Talk about dementia. I was going to make a few short remarks on some of the above and then the bright light of 'eureka' went on.
Ravine: Yes, I read Angela's Ashes. Not once, but twice. Then I bought the book, in hard cover of course, and then I read it again. Then I used excerpts from it in some of my later stories.
In 1998, Peggy and I made our first trip to Ireland. A three week adventure. I took meticulous notes every day.
When we came home I began writing (from those notes) of each day's adventure. So I have 353 KB's and 23 files of our trip.
The epilogue takes 19.5 KB's.
The following is an excerpt from that epilogue:
“This country, and by default,, this nationality, has not just survived, it has thrived with a verve peculiar or unique to itself. It seems that adversity is not an obstacle but rather, a honing stone on which to whet their appetite for their fierce pride of nationalism. Small wonder that anyone with a modicum of Irish blood wants to be allied, if only vicariously, with such a dedicated heritage.”
Funk & Wagnalls definition of verve?:
verve, Excitement of imagination and feeling attending artistic
production; artistic enthusiasm.
Note: I wrote the above two paragraphs on Nov. 1. I laid them aside until today, Nov. 14. 1998.
I know I cannot post 350 KB's without dispensation from the Pope.
I do have the E-mail addresses of three of the above. I thought of sending myself an E-mail and included, via BCC, the addresses of the others. Would that work or is it not recommended?
I really do not know the protocol of interfacing personally with others through E-mail!
I'll try this first: Days 1, 2, 3.
So you want to go to Ireland!
For thirty years my wife never knew I was a drunk, until one night when I came home sober. (Irish wit)
The best laid plans of mice and men,,,,, but our plans did not go awry. We planned our three week adventure as well as could be expected, and all of those plans came to fruition. However, in retrospect there are three caveats that I would suggest to others planning a similar trip. Particularly, people our age. The first one is the ENERGY factor, the second is the RECUPERATION factor, and the third and by far the most intimidating factor are the narrow ROADWAYS of Ireland.. We did not anticipate how wearing these factors would be.
Day 1.
Packed and ready to go, including raincoats and umbrellas. We did not expect much sunshine and we were not disappointed. Tucson to Dallas, A ZIP! Dallas to New York, A PIP! New York to Shannon, ooops, A SLIP. Fog had shut down Shannon early in the morning and so we were diverted to Dublin where we sat in the airport for a little over two hours. We then boarded another plane and landed at Shannon about three hours late. That figured out to be twenty-three hours in transit. Our energy lag started to show. We waited about a half an hour for our luggage. (There were 330 people on our flight.) It took another half hour to get our rental car from Avis. For some unknown reason there were 20 people waiting for a car from Avis while all of the other rental companies had no customers. Go figure!
Our first objective was to get to the village of Adare which is about 50 miles from Shannon. Our first B & B was awaiting us. I wasn’t too concerned about driving on the left hand side of the road and I wasn’t worried about shifting the five speed manual transmission with my left hand. (I had the good sense at the last minute to upgrade our rental car to the next larger model which was an Opel Astra and that worked out very well.) We left Shannon on a new four lane (two in either direction) divided highway feeling somewhat secure. That security quickly dissipated as we entered the storied city of Limerick. The first trauma was my encounter with a “round-about.” In America we call them traffic circles. I have negotiated traffic circles in America pulling my 31’ travel trailer without blinking an eye. However, driving on the left side and trying to read, what we would soon discover to be, totally inadequate road signs, proved to be very unnerving at first. We managed 6 of those round-abouts without missing a turn and I have to believe that the GOOD leprechauns were watching over us. Limerick, as we would soon learn, was simply typical of every Irish Village and town that we would visit. Incredibly NARROW streets and haphazard parking practices, if you were indeed fortunate enough to find a parking place. The only route through town, again typical of all the towns, was anything but straight and if you missed a turn, as I often did, it was sometimes chaotic to get back on the right road. We did persevere and made it to Adare and found our BB. It looked like the Taj Mahal to me. Our hostess, Mrs. Harrington, would prove to be just typical of the other BB’s that we would engage. I made the remark to Peggy that if the rest of our future BB’s were this nice, I would be very happy. She agreed. As it turned out, Mrs. Harrington’s BB was the lessor of the 5 BB’s that we engaged. The others had so much more to offer.
A summation of our first day: American Airline service was good. Adequate. Aer Lingus was better, perhaps because they served complimentary drinks after taking off and also serving them with dinner. Making our way to Adare, exhausted as we were, was a moral victory. We were elated. We were greatly excited over the flora we had seen. We thought that perhaps it would be languishing, but it wasn’t.
These notes are being written in retrospect and they will contain observations and conclusions that we came to at the end of our journey.
Day 2.
Day 2 was actually an extension of Day 1, because of the time difference. We left the morning of Sept. 9, and our arrival at Shannon was Sept.10, and it was 12 noon. Our BB, in Adare, was just two blocks from Main Street. Our enthusiasm, along with a sense of relief, gave us the strength to make a quick tour of the town on foot. Adare has been rightly described as the quintessential Irish town. It was delightful. I will make a somewhat unusual description of Adare. As we walked along Main street an atavistic image struck me almost immediately. This was America in the 1930’s! There were all the small stores of our youth. The corner grocery store, the candy and patent medicine shop, the chemist (read drug) shop, the small clothing shops, and the proprietor sweeping the sidewalk in front of his store. By far the most conspicuous sights were the local citizens. There was absolutely no way to confuse them with the tourists. The tourists came in all shapes and sizes and dress. The Irish were all uniformly attired and coiffured. I don’t mean the clothes were identical but the style was consistently simplistic. Many of the men wore a tie and shirt with either a sweater or jacket and the haircut was not too far from soup bowl chic. The women’s hair was cut short and hung straight. Even now I can’t recall seeing any lady on the street with what could be called a stylish hairdo. Their dress can only be described as overtly plain. The number of redheads both male and female was quite astonishing. These descriptions will be in sharp contrast to what we encountered in some of our future social engagements. John Ford made some Hollywood movies over here and I am sure that the costume department had very little to do in providing dress for all the extras. They only had to wear their own
A stereotype has to be mentioned here. That is, the drinking capacity of the Irish citizen. I can only say, It AIN’T no myth. Morning, noon and night it was normal to see more than a few citizens walking down the street with a bleary eyed, glassy eyed and/or blood-shot eyed facade.
Our first dinner in Ireland that evening was, what else? Irish Stew! It was made with a lamb and barley stock. I found it to be delicious. Peggy did not care for the lamb flavor. It was served with 3 boiled potatoes on a side dish. I will mention another stereotype at this time. The myth of Irish potatoes. Again, it AIN’T no myth!
I am fond of saying, “I have never met a potato I didn’t like.” That was before we started growing Kennebec’s up north. Then I became fussy. For the uninitiated, Kennebec’s are the Cadillac or Mercedes of the potato world. You will not find them in the super market because they are too hard to grow and hence, not profitable unless you sold them like I did for 60 cents a pound when new potatoes were selling for 5 cents up north. They are rock hard, pure white and incredibly delicious.
Those potatoes served to me on the side were every bit as good. There was ample juice in the stew. I would cut a slice of potato, spear it with my fork and then slosh it around in the stew juice and then put it in my mouth. Then ambivalence set in. As I savored the sweet taste of that potato I was reluctant to swallow it because it tasted so good. But then my greedy hungry eyes were on the next slice to come and I couldn’t wait to get at it.
We went to bed that evening at 8:00. We had been up for 32 hours.
Day 3
We slept 11 hours last night. Awoke at 8:00 am. We felt rested. We told ourselves that we were rested, but the brain seemed to be bathed in a surrealistic atmosphere. We did not know it at the time but jet lag was still firmly entrenched.
The breakfast\dining room was delightful. The menu was varied and the food was very good. Cereal or porridge, juices and fruit sections, eggs, bacon, ham and sausage, waffles or French toast, tea or coffee, and a delicious brown bread greeted us at all of the BB’s. The coffee was invariably strong but it was accompanied by a pot of hot water to dilute it. The one and only criticism we had with Irish cooking was the egg. If you ordered it sunny side up, over easy, poached or soft boiled, it still came out,,,hard boiled.
We made our second excursion into town. I felt too unsteady to drive and so we walked. Adare is a small town, about eight blocks long. We cruised the shops and were enchanted by the proliferation of bakery shops. Another throwback to our youth. We stopped in our first pub for a glass of Guinness stout. Peggy said she liked it but I was not very impressed. I thought it a bit too sweet.
The epicenter of Adare was two blocks long. It contained the Heritage Center, ( read Tourist Information Center) which also contained a nice restaurant named The Abbots Roost where we would have our first two dinners. Adjacent to the Center was the Holy Trinity Church. This is a stone edifice that seemed strangely out of place in terms of size and magnificence in such a small town. We would very quickly become aware that the CHURCH was the “raison d’etre” for the existence of the town, instead of the other way around. The church was monumental, the town, incidental. The structure was made entirely of stone. The gothic columns bore a crown of stone and mortar arches as opposed to the more common ‘poured’ arches that one would expect. Stones are probably the most prolific natural resources of Ireland.
We walked down the road to see the Adare Manor Hotel and Golf Course. We did not make it because the shoulder of the 2 lane roadway narrowed to nothing. Cars were roaring by us a scant foot or two away so we turned around and walked back to where the service road was serving the hotel. We followed that and were rewarded with just a magnificent stroll through a lush (I will use that word repeatedly in this narrative) pasture filled with trees and flowers. We arrived at the back entrance of the hotel overlooking a golf course, the likes of which I have never seen in my life. We thought the back of the hotel was the front. The course had been designed by Robert Trent Jones who has always been designated as the almighty Guru golf course designer. The Maige river runs through the course and we stood on the bridge where we had a perfect view of everything. Peggy was afraid we might be evicted as interlopers on the property, but I told her to just look arrogant if anybody questioned us. Intimidation is the key to success in situations like that. I found out later that the greens fee at this course was 15 pounds or about 22.50 American. Truly a pittance. The next time I go to Ireland I will take my golf clubs and leave Peggy home. Well, not really
On the way back to town we explored the ruins of the Augustinian Priory. Another stone, what else, edifice. We would soon tire of looking at ruins. They are like MacDonald restaurants in America. Turn a corner and there is another ruin.
We returned to town and by that time there were tour buses and tourists all over the place. This is September. What on earth is it like in June, July, and August???????
We both had fresh cod dinners at the restaurant along with the side dish of Irish Potatoes. We were strangely tired. |
Ravine
Member
Username: Ravine
Post Number: 1926
Registered: 01-2006
| | Posted on Tuesday, February 12, 2008 - 5:09 am: | |
Tponetom: Once again, I thank you for sharing that story. Is my e-mail address one of the ones you retain? |
Tponetom
Member
Username: Tponetom
Post Number: 221
Registered: 06-2007
| | Posted on Tuesday, February 12, 2008 - 10:55 am: | |
Ravine,
Yes, it is. |
Ravine
Member
Username: Ravine
Post Number: 1929
Registered: 01-2006
| | Posted on Tuesday, February 12, 2008 - 3:46 pm: | |
Tponetom, I welcome, with unreserved enthusiasm, any chapters of your tale (or anything else, for that matter) which you might feel willing to share with me.
Also, if you send an e-mail, it will provide me with an e-address by which I could reach you privately, which is, of course, wholly different than reaching for your privates. |
Scs_scooter
Member
Username: Scs_scooter
Post Number: 44
Registered: 07-2006
| | Posted on Wednesday, February 13, 2008 - 6:10 pm: | |
A boyfriend from one of my past lives was from Limerick. His family moved here when he was 16years old. He is 50 yrs old now and the whole family has since gone back to Ireland. I loved his accent and the stories he told. Please do keep telling the tales of your Irish adventure. Facinating!Brings back memories of my dear boyfriend Tim!
(Message edited by scs scooter on February 13, 2008) |
Tponetom
Member
Username: Tponetom
Post Number: 224
Registered: 06-2007
| | Posted on Thursday, February 14, 2008 - 11:06 am: | |
Day # 8 was quite titillating and unforgettable.
Irish Trip, Day 8.
Oct. 16, l997. Tuesday.
A wet, gloomy and overcast day. Moira O’Gorman, our hostess, told us that the tour bus for the Ring of Kerry would pick us up at the house at 9:00 AM.
The southern part of County Kerry is made up of three peninsulas: Dingle, Iveragh and Beara. Iveragh is the most scenic one and its mountainous perimeter route is promoted as the Ring of Kerry. It is 110 miles in length. The highest mountain in Ireland is only about 3000 feet in elevation.
The bus was right on schedule and our ‘good’ leprechaun was still on our shoulder. We were the first passengers on the bus and we grabbed the two choice seats on the right hand side of the bus, directly behind the driver. ( Remember that we are driving on the left side of the road and the ‘right-hand’ seats put us in the center of the highway.) His seat was 3 feet lower than ours, so our view through the panoramic windshield and the huge side windows was excellent. Later on I would qualify my enthusiasm for these seats for 2 reasons.
The first hour was spent stopping at various BB’s and hotels, picking up more passengers. After the bus was full, he made one more stop at a BB next to a pub. I noticed that he went into the pub and then came out about ten minutes later without any additional passengers. As he took his seat, I caught the fragrance of peppermint. He had obviously fortified himself with a bit of ‘Irish’ breakfast. Soon we were off.
The dark and overcast day diminished our views of the lovely landscape but it was still a treat. After about ten miles I decided that the smartest thing I had done so far, was NOT to drive this route myself. I was wincing every time an approaching vehicle appeared. I KNOW that this bus is 8’ wide and those cars coming at us are between 5’ and 6’ in width and I KNOW that the roadway is barely 12’ wide. Is our bus eating those cars and stowing them in its underbelly? More than once our bus had to come to a complete stop and allow a larger car or truck to inch its way past us. At first I became fascinated, then obsessed, then I finally said, “Oh, to hell with it. Our Leprechaun will take care of us.”
The scenery, quite spectacular in many places became of secondary interest. The oncoming traffic was of primary concern. Eventually, I lost interest because I found something else to occupy my mind. At our first comfort stop of about 20 minutes, our driver made a beeline for the local Pub. He came out smiling and once again the fragrance of peppermint assailed our olfactory tract. At the second stop, ditto. Now I noticed that his forehead was a bright red and his eyes were a bit shiny. The third stop was our lunch break of about an hour. As we walked into the restaurant, the driver walked into Mac’s Pub. We had a quick lunch of soup and scones and we then took a walk through the tiny village. As we headed toward the bus the door to the Village Pub opened and who should be walking out? Yep. Our Driver. His red forehead was now purple and his shiny eyes were now bleary. We were halfway through the tour and two more comfort stops were scheduled. To paraphrase the immortal words of Al Jolson, “We ain’t seen nuthin yet.” Hairpin curves, short stretches of one lane traffic only and incredible duels of the game of ‘chicken’ that our driver won every time. Finally, I became a convert. I said, to myself, “Thank God this guy is drunk because if he was sober, we would never have made it.”
It was a most interesting journey. Someday I would like to go back and see the scenery.
We got back to the BB where Moira had prepared a cold salmon dinner that we had requested previously, knowing that we would not want to drive back to Killarney for dinner. It was a very wise decision. We were whipped.
About 50 % of all tourists are either English or Irish people living in England.
25% are American. Then smaller amounts of German and French. Then, Orientals.
Land is the most precious commodity in Ireland. As I said earlier, all the roads are lined with stone fences and there are few if any shoulders off the road. I am sure that those stone fences have been there for many, many years and that they must mark the property lines for the land owners. In order to widen the roads, the fences would have to come down and the owners would lose precious acreage.
In America we are used to roadside parks, roadside tables, scenic turnouts, shopping centers in town with big parking lots, fast food restaurants with parking and toilet facilities and any number of places where you can just pull off of the highway for whatever reason.
Nearly all of the BB’s that we seen had converted part of their front yards into parking lots. Private parking was one of our major priorities in selecting a BB.
Dinner at the BB was very relaxing and satisfying. We knew that we would avail ourselves of this service more often in the future.
We slept well that night. |
Balduckpark
Member
Username: Balduckpark
Post Number: 1
Registered: 03-2008
| | Posted on Tuesday, March 11, 2008 - 5:27 pm: | |
Do we now know what the third things is "that an Irishman holds dear?" |
Tponetom
Member
Username: Tponetom
Post Number: 265
Registered: 06-2007
| | Posted on Thursday, March 13, 2008 - 8:48 pm: | |
Balduckpark:
I thought I had replied to your question but I suffer from CRS.
The answer to your question is, NO. It is not a 'trick' question or a silly answer. Some of the above suggestions could be a practical answer but they do not ring the bell for me. I will keep on soliciting for an answer.
If you have a suggestion, please submit it.
Our last home in Detroit was on Lannoo just west of Mack. That was four or five blocks away from Balduck Park. |
Thames
Member
Username: Thames
Post Number: 85
Registered: 02-2007
| | Posted on Saturday, March 15, 2008 - 12:45 pm: | |
A full-rigged ship, a woman with child and the full moon" |
Tponetom
Member
Username: Tponetom
Post Number: 272
Registered: 06-2007
| | Posted on Sunday, March 16, 2008 - 12:19 pm: | |
Thames:
With all of the above 'excellent' remarks I might have to revise my question to:
"What are the THIRTY best things in life that an Irishman holds dear?" |
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