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Blogs > wickedeasy > wicked and that ain't so easy |
the blackdonnellys
the blackdonnellys did anyone else watch that show? that's my surname and i watched it while talking on the phone with my brother who was watching it as well. so, the show was a bit too stuffed with action for me, i mean how many people can 3 brothers kill in one flippin' day? but it made me think about my family and the stories my Da used to tell. he grew up very poor in a section of Cambridge called Inman Square - bars and more bars and then, oh look, more bars. when he was 5, he would take his red wagon down to the market and wait - for a nickel, he'd drag your bags home for you. later in the evening, Dad would go back and wait outside the Innsquare Men's bar and tote home those incapable of walking. His Da was a bookie and helped load the drunks into the wagon, before he went back inside to the phone and the numbers and the whiskey. there was a guy that lived in the same building as my dad's family. irish too. not married and so all the ladies kept fixing him up with all their unmarried sisters. Nannie and Bubbie (my grandparents) asked him to dinner - and he came expecting yet another irish maiden. but no - my Bubbie had decided that the man walked light in his shoes and so had asked the local monsignor to come for an intervention. cure him, yanno? poor man swore up and down that he wasn't gay. to no avail. finally, in order to prove his manliness, he grabbed my grandmother and gave her a deep kiss. silence. the monsignor coughed, poured another whiskey for himself and said, " did he give ya tongue Mrs. Donnelly?" my grandmother said, "that he did, father." "and was it any good Mrs. DOnnelly" "that it was, father." six months later, the monsignor left the church and moved in with the neighbor. He's my godfather - the neighbor, not the monsignor. that's what being irish is to me. You cannot conceive the many without the one. |
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2/28/2007 3:17 pm |
This has absolutely nothing to do with your post, but did you ever go to the Inman Square mens bar? (I think that was the name).....U Utah Phillips used to play there all of the time.
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I was caught off-guard, when you clarified the neighbor as your god-Father. Had he been your god-Son, I might have had somewhat less a reason for concern toward the Monsignor. Solar...
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2/28/2007 5:17 pm |
I can hear the Irish brogue, too!! "All you'll get from strangers is surface pleasantry or indifference. Only someone who loves you will criticize you." - Judith Crist, crack film critic
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Fantastic story WE. Now I understand where that gumption of yours comes from.
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3/1/2007 1:45 pm |
Interesting observation Silkditty, on an interesting story. When I was a kid, I used to play with the Driscol's daughter across the street. They had come over from Ireland but aside from an accent and a few religious icons, I saw nothing to distinguish them from the rest of my friends. Got my first introduction to Irish culture via John Ford's "The Quiet Man. "Is this a courtin' or a donnybrook? Have the good manners not to hit the man until he's your husband and entitled to hit you back." (One of Barry Fitzgerald's lines) Thnaks for sharing Oui.
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3/2/2007 6:07 am |
I'm learning so much from the blogs. If I understand you right, around St. Patrick's Day, people in Boston prefer taking their bit of Irish anally? BPB
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3/3/2007 8:40 am |
Loved the post..families can be so strange..I discovered as an adult that I am 1/4 Irish..my dad's mother was one generation removed from the old country..but she never talked about it, and while she was alive, I never had the urge, or opportunity to talk to her about family..it was only in working with one of my sons on a genealogy project that we discovered several surprises in the family tree..sad how, when I could have learned much, I had no interest, now when I have the interest, there is almost no one left to talk to..
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