Do As I Say, Not As I Do

It's my job as a mother to raise our children to know right from wrong.  That includes teaching them not to make bonehead decisions without considering the long term consequences.  As I used to so eloquently put it, get your head out of your butt and think over what you're about to do.  Look beyond the nose on your face.  Of course, these sage words of advice often fell upon deaf ears.  

Boys being boys, we had many moments where it was clear our children gave absolutely no thought to the ramifications of their actions.  It was all fun and games until the cops were called.  There was the time the cops fished one son and his friends from their hiding place in a dumpster.  And the time the police called at 2:00 a.m. to inform us our other son and his friends were handcuffed in the neighborhood park until we could come pick them up.  Before you get the wrong idea, these run-ins with the law were the result of boyhood pranks and no serious crimes were committed but it always begged the question, "What the hell were they thinking?"

Even though both boys are now contributing members of society with no criminal records, I still find myself trying to imbue them with sound decision-making skills.  For example, our oldest son recently informed us of plans for the 4th of July holiday weekend and instinctively I responded, "Don't do anything stupid to embarrass the family name."  Words to live by. 

I readily admit that I've done a lot of stupid things in my life and made a lot of really bad decisions.  But it's innate in parents to strive for our children to be better than us and to not make the same mistakes we did.  Does it often borderline on hypocritical?  Yes.  But are our motives pure?  Most of the time.

So back to the "don't do anything stupid" advice I gave our son.  Less than a week later I depart for Mexico to attend my girlfriends' wedding.  I travel along with 40 other friends to an all-inclusive resort for a long weekend of fun in the sun.

The first four days are great!  Everyone is having a fabulous time.

But on the fifth day, as my high school chemistry teacher Coach Bellipani used to say, "God was handing out brains, you thought he said rain, so you ran inside."

On the fifth day, we are hanging out at the "quiet pool" at the resort.  Everything is pretty low key.  Friends are laying under umbrellas reading books.  Some are napping.  Others are floating in the pool conversing with each other.  I am on a lounge chair observing all this quiet time when an idea to shake things up pops into my brain.  So with my head in my butt and not looking beyond the nose on my face, I make a split-second decision to cannonball my girlfriends floating in the pool.  Hilarious, right?  Wrong.  It is a terrible idea to cannonball anyone in the shallow end of the pool.  I can say that now with complete authority.  And I know what you're thinking and the answer is no.  Alcohol was not a factor.

I don't hit the bottom of the pool, but when I thrust my legs down to propel myself out of the water, I roll my right ankle in the most horrible way.  It is the worst pain I've ever felt, short of childbirth.  When I emerge somewhat victorious from the water, all I can say is, "I think I broke my freaking ankle!" (or something like that).

My friends, being the loving, sympathetic, kind friends that they are, die out laughing and immediately begin taking pictures.  And you know what, I deserve it.  But they also call a medic who turns out to be the silver lining to this vacation-ending cloud.  He is the super cute!

So here I lie, week 3, pink cast, no weight bearing, no driving and my cat using my body as a pillow.  Not the ending to my summer that I had envisioned.

As word gets around, my family members begin calling to check on me and get the story straight from the horse's mouth.  As I explain the circumstances to my brother, I tell him about my ironic "don't do anything stupid and embarrass the family" admonition to my son.  My brother dies out laughing and says, "Oh, Deborah.  That ship sailed for you a long time ago!"
  

Letters From My Father

It's funny how you can know someone your entire life, but not really know them. Your impression of them is often formed by what they allow you to see. I always thought my father was very reserved with his emotions, especially when it came to displays of affection. However, he had very strong opinions about other matters. And as my sister puts it, he liked to make pronouncements instead of participate in idle conversation.  Daddy let you know under no uncertain terms that it was “his way or the highway.” Strong convictions is putting it mildly.

After he passed away, a whole new man materialized and I realized my real father had been hiding in plain sight my entire life. I discovered this new man in the drawers of his desk at his law office which were crammed full of letters he had written over his lifetime.

My father was a modern day scrivener – a man who preferred to wax poetically in ink as opposed to face-to-face. From these missives I gained insight into the man behind the stoic facade and discovered what was of value to him.

Family was of utmost importance. I recall around Christmas time he loved to call his Air Force buddies and brag on us, his children. Regardless of what we were doing, Daddy made it sound like we were accomplishing great feats. This pride also extended to his nieces and nephews, as I discovered in a letter to my cousin Carol after she won the Miss Sunflower County title.

“Congratulations!!! I am ever so sorry that I was not present to see you win your title, but I am certainly very proud of you and am certain that you will represent Sunflower County well at the Pageant in Vicksburg. If at all possible, I intend to be present at the Pageant so that I might cheer you on and give you moral support.”

He was always particularly proud of friends and family members who were furthering their education. To him education was essential to becoming a productive citizen. One letter I discovered congratulated a friend upon his graduation and impressed upon him the importance of becoming a life-long learner as well as challenging him to invest himself in the future of our country.

“I hope that you will look upon your graduation as the first step in an ever continuing education, and I am confident that the future of our state and country will be in good hands when it passes to responsible young men such as yourself.”

Another letter to his nephew getting ready to head to college shockingly acknowledged our family trait of being overly opinionated.

“When I think of our family, I often compare us to the statement that a person made about Harvard University at one time in which he stated that in any given controversy of any importance, you will always find a Harvard man on either side. This is just about true in our family, as you know and have been able to observe that we are quite well spoken, biased and prejudiced on any given subject.”

In addition to education, good customer service was paramount to him. Being in the legal field, Daddy was cognizant of the value of people's time. Nothing aggravated him more than when his time was wasted. My mother once dropped him off for a doctor's appointment while she ran errands. After an hour and a half, she picked Daddy up and headed back home. When Mama inquired as to what the doctor said, Daddy replied, “Nothing.” Shocked my mother retorted, “What do you mean nothing?” to which Daddy informed her, “I didn't see the doctor. I got up and left because I got tired of waiting on him.”

So when Daddy received punctual service at a doctor's office, he was quick to praise.

“I want to congratulate you and your staff for the prompt, courteous, friendly and efficient service that I received. It is indeed a refreshing experience to find people who appear to be genuinely caring about your situation and want to be helpful and friendly. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate this type of service.”

He often bemoaned the fact that clerks working in department stores had little or no interest in helping the customer. However I discovered that he liked to recognize these employees when he received particularly good service.

“I called your department to enquire about this order. I was afforded the utmost courtesy, respect and a genuine care and concern on the part of your staff. I just wanted to write and congratulate you and your staff for being unusual in a day when it seems that retail personnel couldn't care less whether a person bought their product or not. . . . It was a genuine pleasure for me to find out that there are still retail personnel who are cheerful, helpful and courteous to their customers.”

For all my father's earnestness, a lighter side emerged in his letters as well. My father was quick witted and like to dispense one-liners. He also loved music.  He played clarinet and guitar and at one point in his life took organ lessons.

“I am pleased to announce that the Hammond organ that you sold me last fall has certainly been a pleasant addition to my life. I have been taking music lessons on the organ and I can now play 'Silent Night' almost as well as you can. My instructor informs me that I am one of the few people that she has instructed possessed of so great a talent, including a particular type of ear (tin, I believe she said). Being completely exhilarated with the knowledge that my genius has at last been discovered by someone other than myself, I am now stepping boldly ahead and would very much appreciate your sending to me the Hammond instruction series for intermediate students.”

It's been hard culling through my father's things. His former existence is reduced to a few boxes of papers, pictures and memorabilia.  As I reflect, I realize that he was larger than life; a complex man who was mysterious to me in so many ways. I didn't always agree with him or understand why he was the way he was, but I loved him. Unconditionally. And in the end, I found evidence of my love in, of all things, a letter.

Kiss Me I'm Irish!

We've come full circle and end up in Dublin on St. Patrick's Day.  We make our way to O'Connell Street to the parade route along with throngs of other revelers.   It is bitter cold and rainy but it doesn't dampen our spirits or the others there to celebrate the Patron Saint of Ireland.

The moment we reach O'Connell Street the bagpipes begin piping, people start cheering and the parade commences.  It's quite a surreal moment.



I'm dismayed as initially all I can see are the backs of heads.

We notice everyone there has ladders and realize we are woefully unprepared.  I see a family with a ladder and ask in my best Southern drawl, "Do you think I could step up on your ladder for a quick look-see?  We've come all the way from Texas and I just want to get a glimpse of the parade."  Well, that's all it took.  This woman let me climb up her ladder and get a great view of the parade.  She explained that they are locals and that her family has come to the parade every year for the past 20 years so if I came all the way from Texas, I deserved to see the parade.  

Like Moses, I descend from my mountain where my new friend makes me an honorary Irish citizen and bestows upon me the a most awesome hat and banner that declares, "I'm Irish!"  Being Southern, I feel a strong kinship with this woman as she goes out of her way to make us feel welcome.  KISS ME I'M IRISH!

It literally begins to rain on our parade so we seek shelter in a pub along with hundreds of other leprechauns.

No one cares that the pubs are packed and you have to wait a couple of extra minutes for your Guinness.  We're kindred spirits.  We wander from pub to pub to pub to pub, enjoying Guinness and listening to live music.

This guy obviously has a sense of humor!

We pub hop the rest of the day before heading back to our hotel.  As we leave the last pub, I catch sight of the poem On Raglan Road painted on the side of the pub.  This is a famous poem written by Patrick Kavanagh about a love affair he had with a young woman.

"I saw the danger yet I walked along the enchanted way.  And I said let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day."  This is our love affair with Ireland.

Dublin Day 2 - Books, Bells and Beer

"A tavern is a place where madness is sold by the bottle."  Jonathan Swift

First night in a foreign country no one sleeps well.  Our body clocks are off and we are apparently sharing a room with a bear.  Note to self - take the hotel's suggestion and use the ear plugs they provide.

We head out with our first stop of the day at Trinity College.  The college was founded in 1592 and modeled after Oxford and Cambridge.  According to Wikipedia, the ecclesiastical origins of the College are reflected in its motto, which is directly derived from Christian Scripture (1 Thessalonians 5:21), "Prove all things; hold fast that which is good."  This also happens to be my McLeod family motto.

There are many noteworthy structures on the grounds but perhaps the most impressive is the Library which is the largest research library in Ireland.  The Library holds the Book of Kells, an illuminated manuscript of the four Gospels Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.  Written on vellum it contains a masterwork of calligraphy and illustrations.  No pictures of the book can be taken so you'll have to take my word on how magnificent it is.

The Long Room of the Library is over 200 feet long and holds more than 200,000 books.  Being a book lover, I am overwhelmed when I walk into the room. I wish I could crawl into every nook and cranny to peruse all the dusty, old tomes.

It's here that I become obsessed with all things Swift.  Not the great American poet Taylor Swift but Jonathan Swift, the great satirist, essayist, poet and author of Gulliver's Travels.  One of the displays in the Long Room pointed out that Swift wrote an inflammatory response to a pamphlet written in 1714 where he called the Scots a "poor, fierce Northern people."  This inflammatory remark was considered an act of rebellion for disparaging the 1707 Union between England and Scotland.  I think this is why I feel a kinship with him - he was not only funny but a rebel rouser!

The library also holds Swift's desk mask.  We marvel over the macabre display.

Apparently Swifty, as I now fondly call him, was quite the ladies man.  He was "hanging out" (as my boys used to say) with a girl named Stella who was 15 years younger than himself.  Now I know the man is dead and all, but judging from this death mask, he was not blessed in the looks department which leaves me wondering what young Stella saw in Swifty.

A local informs us that Swift is buried in St. Patrick's Cathedral standing up!  Intrigued, we head off to have a look-see and are welcomed by St. Patrick's bells tolling loudly as we round the corner.

We locate Swift's grave but no one confirms whether he is really standing.

The cathedral is breathtakingly beautiful.

And like all good Irishmen, we end our day in a few pubs.  We order pints and toast to Swifty . . . and to standing up.  Slainte!

Galway Girl - Days 6 and 7

We land in Galway, a hopping town on the west coast of Ireland.  The National University of Ireland is located here.  It's definitely a college town.  It has a lively nightlife along Quay and High Streets.  It also boasts the lovely Eyre Square at the city center.

While in Galway, we opt to take the Aran Islands tour.  We tour Inis Mor, meaning big island, which is one of the last Irish Gaelic speaking islands.  We set out early and catch the ferry to the island.  The sea is turbulent and we rock and roll all the way to Inishmore.  It's not a good sign when the crew passes out barf bags.

We spend the day touring the entire island including the Seven Churches and burial grounds which dates back to the 8th century.

We stop for lunch at the finest restaurant on the island (maybe the only restaurant on the island) run by some lovely ladies and where I finally get my traditional Irish stew.  It's a frigid and blustery day so the stew hits the spot.

Our bellies full, we make the trek to the Dun Aengus Fort, a prehistoric fort dating from the Iron Age. For the uninitiated, that's 500 BC - 500 AD.  (Ok, I had to look it up.)  It sits on the highest point of the cliffs of Inis Mor.  The view rivals the Cliffs of Moher.  I've heard some say it's better just because it's not as touristy.  Whatever your opinion, the views are spectacular!

Perhaps the most fortuitous event of the day is meeting our Galway Girl and new friend, Mandy.  She's a Yankee traveling alone on business and hangs with us the entire day.  She is affable and intelligent and as we like to say in the south, we can tell she's been "raised right."   We enjoy her company so much that we invite her to join us for dinner that evening as we celebrate Peyton's birthday.  

We vow to keep in touch after we part company and send Mandy on her way.  We're definitely feeling the luck of the Irish as we end our time in Galway.