KISS ME I'M IRISH - Mar Chuid Dá (Part II)

Jillian B. Hart

She found herself very melancholy and couldn't even explain why if she had been asked.  Rather then give into the blues she fashioned on a casual emerald green dress and zipped up the knee length, spiked, black boots. Slipped into a leather jacket and headed out the door.  People watching always lifted her spirits and gave her inspiration to write.  What better night to gather in the sights.  

She sat at the bar, taking in the blur of faces on the dance floor. The festive holiday sounds emanated through the room mixed with dance tunes.  Shiny plastic four leaf clovers and green beads dangled from necks and bounced across chests in erratic and off beat motions. Choirs of "Slainte" replaced the usual shouts of cheers followed by the clinks of beer mugs.  Green beer overflowed, yet, not her drink of preference so she had ordered Bailey's straight up.  Every one was Irish today.  Yet her Irish eyes were far from smiling.  Although she had never fancied this Irish pub in the city, perhaps this wasn't the right pub to observe the happy crowds, as something about the place reminded her of times gone by. 

KISS ME I'M IRISH - Mar Chuid Dá (Part II)

Jillian B. Hart

She found herself very melancholy and couldn't even explain why if she had been asked.  Rather then give into the blues she fashioned on a casual emerald green dress and zipped up the knee length, spiked, black boots. Slipped into a leather jacket and headed out the door.  People watching always lifted her spirits and gave her inspiration to write.  What better night to gather in the sights.  

She sat at the bar, taking in the blur of faces on the dance floor. The festive holiday sounds emanated through the room mixed with dance tunes.  Shiny plastic four leaf clovers and green beads dangled from necks and bounced across chests in erratic and off beat motions. Choirs of "Slainte" replaced the usual shouts of cheers followed by the clinks of beer mugs.  Green beer overflowed, yet, not her drink of preference so she had ordered Bailey's straight up.  Every one was Irish today.  Yet her Irish eyes were far from smiling.  Although she had never fancied this Irish pub in the city, perhaps this wasn't the right pub to observe the happy crowds, as something about the place reminded her of times gone by. 

IT'S THAT TIME OF YEAR!

Marion Pellicano Ambrose

It’s that time of year again! The holiday that I love to recall from my childhood! No, it’s

not Christmas or Halloween! It’s Saint Patrick’s Day!

Growing up in Brooklyn had many advantages. First, we had the best food anywhere!

There were Jewish delis, Italian, Chinese, and Greek restaurants, and food stores of every

nationality in between. My neighborhood was largely Irish and Italian and we reaped

the benefits of both rich cultures. Our school was closed on Saint Patrick’s Day so we

could all celebrate and watch the parade. The smell of corned beef filled the streets and

ally ways all day. You had to wear green or be pinched, and the Knights of Columbus,

where all our fathers were members, served green beer. The windows of our homes

had shamrocks, harps and leprechauns taped up and for breakfast – Irish Soda bread of

course! It was a wonderful time to be proud of your heritage, sing the old songs that my

father loved, and enjoy being Irish (even if you really weren’t).