Friday, March 17, 2006

Shalee: Irish for Idiot...

As a wee Irish lass, I’ve always enjoyed St. Patrick’s Day. It was the one time when my little pixie self fit the part: 5’2”, light skinned, and freckled. Plus, with a name like Shālēē O’Rourke, you really can’t hide that ancestry.) Nothing has changed much.

Last year for St. Patty’s Day, Mr. Right and I, who happened to work close to each other at the time, met at O’Neill’s Irish Pub for lunch. We figured a good Irish meal and surrounding ourselves with fellow Irishmen would be a great way to celebrate the day. (Can I tell you now that I didn’t think people really drank that early in the day?! And people actually took a day of vacation to “celebrate” all day long… That’s even a bit too festive for me, and I’m Irish!)

The neat thing about it was that the pub had a DJ there to play Irish music and he invited others up at times to say an Irish blessing, an Irish poem or to give some example of how being Irish has played a part in our lives. Really a neat idea because I had never really thought about it so much.

Others went up and most of them gave a toast or quoted the most known Irish blessings:


May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
And rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.

May you live as long as you want,
And never want as long as you live.

May the saddest day of your future be no worse
Than the happiest day of your past.

Walls for the wind,
And a roof for the rain,
And drinks beside the fire -
Laughter to cheer you
And those you love near you,
And all that your heart may desire!

If God sends you down a stony path,
may he give you strong shoes.

One even offered this curse:

May those who love us love us.

And those that don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.

Anyway, imagine my surprise when my Mr. Right, shy, introverted Mr. Right, got up and took the mike. Now this is the same man who has openly stated that he can’t tell a joke because he can never remember the words. What could he want to say from memory?

“I may not be Irish, but I did the next best thing a man could do. I married my Irish lass, Shalee O’Rourke and have been ever so blessed since. Here’s to you, love.”

Everyone around our table turned to look at me and raised their glasses to me with smiles in their eyes and on their faces.

Oh.

Yeah, I cried. Who wouldn’t after that romantic declaration?

I’m just hoping that after writing this one he doesn’t remember any of the Irish curses.

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