Just curious - am I blogging to myself or does someone actually read these things?
I have to ask because I haven't had a comment in ages (okay, weeks). I have to ask because I saw a Tshirt that said something like "more people have read this than your blog". I have to ask because maybe I'm just not posting anything interesting here and am boring you to death.
Give me a hint. Please. If you are reading this would you just let me know if I'm boring or uninteresting or perhaps increadibly interesting ( :) ) ?
I'd really like to know.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Ther's no business like snow business like no...
It snowed here overnight. About two inches of snow, heavy and white, clinging to trees and sidewalks and rooftops and lawns.
It's nearly April. Will we get more snow in April?
This really isn't bad, considering what they're going through in Fargo and other places.
But it IS rather annoying - and I like snow. Seriously. I wish we had a full winter of a foot on the ground - at least - rather than this rather pathetic two inches at a time crapola.
Sigh.
It'll be melted by this afternoon, I'm sure. But it sure did look nice.
KC
It's nearly April. Will we get more snow in April?
This really isn't bad, considering what they're going through in Fargo and other places.
But it IS rather annoying - and I like snow. Seriously. I wish we had a full winter of a foot on the ground - at least - rather than this rather pathetic two inches at a time crapola.
Sigh.
It'll be melted by this afternoon, I'm sure. But it sure did look nice.
KC
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Riverdance, ya scrod!
No I have no idea what that means, it just sounds kind of Irish.
Maggie and I went to see Riverdance this weekend, our third time, but first at the Rosemont Theatre. It's really more of an auditorium than a theatre - big, wide space. Of which we found ourselves sitting way way over to the right.
Oh, well, we'd see the show from an angle, that was okay.
Then an usher comes up and shoos us out of our seats. We weren't quite sure what was up.
She took us down to the VERY middle in the VERY front row. Best seats in the house, bar none!
What had we done to deserve this, I'll never know. She did fill in the whole row with other people, but we were in the exact center.
It was a good show, with a few minor tweaks from past performances. The men seemed to have hang time as they flew across the stage, with prodigious leaps (see the vocab you pick up from reading The Incredible Hulk?). The gals were fleet of feet as well.
All in all, a lovely night, made all the better because an usher decided we had "lousy seats" (her term) and she gave us better ones.
Thanks, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are tonight!
Maggie and I went to see Riverdance this weekend, our third time, but first at the Rosemont Theatre. It's really more of an auditorium than a theatre - big, wide space. Of which we found ourselves sitting way way over to the right.
Oh, well, we'd see the show from an angle, that was okay.
Then an usher comes up and shoos us out of our seats. We weren't quite sure what was up.
She took us down to the VERY middle in the VERY front row. Best seats in the house, bar none!
What had we done to deserve this, I'll never know. She did fill in the whole row with other people, but we were in the exact center.
It was a good show, with a few minor tweaks from past performances. The men seemed to have hang time as they flew across the stage, with prodigious leaps (see the vocab you pick up from reading The Incredible Hulk?). The gals were fleet of feet as well.
All in all, a lovely night, made all the better because an usher decided we had "lousy seats" (her term) and she gave us better ones.
Thanks, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are tonight!
A fine day... if you don't count...
It's about fifty degrees outside, grey clouds overhead, rain beginning to fall...
Beautiful day.
See, I'm kind of looking at it as half-full, or maybe three-quarters. I'm still employed, I have a roof over my head, I have enough food to eat.
This Sunday, like every Sunday, I headed over to Maggie's for a family-watching of The Amazing Race. Couples engage in a race around the world, and you get to see them at their worst and at their best. Mainly their best, because in this go-round, there's really no one you WANT to see eliminated (the lawyers, maybe, but they're by and large nice people like everyone else in this race).
This last Sunday they travelled from a rather nice, normally-industrialized place (Siberia) to, well, frankly, the dung hole of the world, that part of India. Children ran naked in the streets, cows and bison and oxen and monkeys wandered about, the place made "Slumdog Millionaire" look like Times Square.
It must have been "bad" - several of the teams... cried. Genuinely moved to tears, upset that they were travelling in cars when it was obvious that many of these folks never had.
No, I'm not one to fall for any old stunt by a "reality" show team, but these folks were genuinely upset. They didn't make a big deal out of it, but occasionally the camera caught them crying.
Which, I'm sad to say, I probably wouldn't have done. Oh, sure, I'd feel bad and all, but moved to tears? No matter how bad it got? Probably not.
Believe me, I'm not bragging.
It did make me evaluate life a little more. Yeah, I'm not rich - so what? Compared to these people I'm butt-kicking rich. I have family - I'll bet a lot of those kids were orphans. It just...
made me think, that's all.
And as the drizzle starts to fall, here, I look out over clean, open skies and thank God for what I do have.
A home. Food. Maggie.
Couldn't get much better if I tried for a hundred years.
Beautiful day.
See, I'm kind of looking at it as half-full, or maybe three-quarters. I'm still employed, I have a roof over my head, I have enough food to eat.
This Sunday, like every Sunday, I headed over to Maggie's for a family-watching of The Amazing Race. Couples engage in a race around the world, and you get to see them at their worst and at their best. Mainly their best, because in this go-round, there's really no one you WANT to see eliminated (the lawyers, maybe, but they're by and large nice people like everyone else in this race).
This last Sunday they travelled from a rather nice, normally-industrialized place (Siberia) to, well, frankly, the dung hole of the world, that part of India. Children ran naked in the streets, cows and bison and oxen and monkeys wandered about, the place made "Slumdog Millionaire" look like Times Square.
It must have been "bad" - several of the teams... cried. Genuinely moved to tears, upset that they were travelling in cars when it was obvious that many of these folks never had.
No, I'm not one to fall for any old stunt by a "reality" show team, but these folks were genuinely upset. They didn't make a big deal out of it, but occasionally the camera caught them crying.
Which, I'm sad to say, I probably wouldn't have done. Oh, sure, I'd feel bad and all, but moved to tears? No matter how bad it got? Probably not.
Believe me, I'm not bragging.
It did make me evaluate life a little more. Yeah, I'm not rich - so what? Compared to these people I'm butt-kicking rich. I have family - I'll bet a lot of those kids were orphans. It just...
made me think, that's all.
And as the drizzle starts to fall, here, I look out over clean, open skies and thank God for what I do have.
A home. Food. Maggie.
Couldn't get much better if I tried for a hundred years.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Green over red - Ireland forever!
Ah, the traffic light - red over yellow over green.
Not always.
There is one traffic light in all the land where the green supercedes the red. To see it you'd have to go to the center of New York State, to Syracuse. There, in the neighborhood known as Tipperary Hill, a light hangs proudly over the corner of Tompkins Street and Milton Avenue - green over the red.
When the Irish fled their homeland in the early part of this century, they came to Syracuse in droves. Hundreds of immigrant families huddled together could not stomach the British red over the Irish green, even if it was only a traffic light. Tired of replacing the light, the city fathers gave in to the "stonethrowers" and installed a light with the green on top - where it still hands today.
At the northeast corner of the intersection is the Tipperary Hill Memorial Park, paved with hundreds of commemorative bricks engraved with names of financial contributors or their loved ones.
The central feature of the park is the Tipperary Hill Heritage Memorial, bronze, life-size sculpted figures of a 1930s immigrant family. The scene includes a mother, father, daughter, and son. The father is shown pointing to the famous traffic light, as his family listens to the history of the hill. The son has a sling shot in his back pocket, hinting that he might know a little bit of the history of the light.
The sculpture, created by Dexter Benedict, integrates perfectly with the neighborhood and the light, giving one the feeling that the figures are as much ghosts as bronze.
My grandparents immigrated to the Hill and stayed their all their lives; my father was raised mere blocks from the famed light. When I was younger my father took us to see the light, and probably pointed to it in much the same way as that statuary does today.
Over the years our family has spread across the United States, but with the large number of relations and friends in Syracuse we all seem to come back quite frequently. On many of those occasions you can find us gathered at Coleman's Authentic Irish Pub, just a block down the street.
And after we've caught up with everyone and listened to some music and had a drink or two, we always take that short walk up the block and look at the light - green over the red.
Not always.
There is one traffic light in all the land where the green supercedes the red. To see it you'd have to go to the center of New York State, to Syracuse. There, in the neighborhood known as Tipperary Hill, a light hangs proudly over the corner of Tompkins Street and Milton Avenue - green over the red.
When the Irish fled their homeland in the early part of this century, they came to Syracuse in droves. Hundreds of immigrant families huddled together could not stomach the British red over the Irish green, even if it was only a traffic light. Tired of replacing the light, the city fathers gave in to the "stonethrowers" and installed a light with the green on top - where it still hands today.
At the northeast corner of the intersection is the Tipperary Hill Memorial Park, paved with hundreds of commemorative bricks engraved with names of financial contributors or their loved ones.
The central feature of the park is the Tipperary Hill Heritage Memorial, bronze, life-size sculpted figures of a 1930s immigrant family. The scene includes a mother, father, daughter, and son. The father is shown pointing to the famous traffic light, as his family listens to the history of the hill. The son has a sling shot in his back pocket, hinting that he might know a little bit of the history of the light.
The sculpture, created by Dexter Benedict, integrates perfectly with the neighborhood and the light, giving one the feeling that the figures are as much ghosts as bronze.
My grandparents immigrated to the Hill and stayed their all their lives; my father was raised mere blocks from the famed light. When I was younger my father took us to see the light, and probably pointed to it in much the same way as that statuary does today.
Over the years our family has spread across the United States, but with the large number of relations and friends in Syracuse we all seem to come back quite frequently. On many of those occasions you can find us gathered at Coleman's Authentic Irish Pub, just a block down the street.
And after we've caught up with everyone and listened to some music and had a drink or two, we always take that short walk up the block and look at the light - green over the red.
Labels:
Coleman's,
Deehan,
Grandma,
Grandpa,
Ireland,
Ryan,
St. Patrick's Day,
Syracuse,
Tipperary Hill
Irish Eyes
This song has always meant a great deal to me.
Of all the many Irish songs, this is one that speaks to true, heartfelt joy. I heard it a lot growing up, and over the years it became my grandfather's theme song of sorts.
I saw a lot of my grandfather when I was younger, living in the same city. Even after we moved away, I still got back to Syracuse several times a year. He lived quite a few years after seeing see me graduate from Notre Dame, but when his time finally came it grieved me terribly.
I've always thought of funeral Masses as some of the darkest hours on Earth, especially those said for loved ones - and in most ways that held true for my grandfather's.
Until, that is, the time came to carry my grandfather from the church - and they began playing this song.
Such a sprightly tune at such a dark moment was more than an affirmation of heritage - it was an affirmation of faith, that he truly was headed for a better place.
For me. to this day, he and this song are indelibly linked.
I even have a green stuffed bear with a leprechaun hat, perched on my nightstand. It "sings" this song...
When Irish eyes are smiling
Sure it's like a morning spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter,
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away.
There's a tear in your eye,
and I'm wondering why,
For it never should be there at all.
With such power in your smile,
sure a stone you'd beguile,
So there's never a teardrop should fall.
When your sweet lilting laughter's like some fairy song,
And your eyes twinkle bright as can be,
You should laugh all the while and all other times smile,
And now smile a smile for me.
Chorus:
When Irish eyes are smiling
Sure it's like a morning spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter,
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away.
Happy St Patrick's Day, everyone!
Of all the many Irish songs, this is one that speaks to true, heartfelt joy. I heard it a lot growing up, and over the years it became my grandfather's theme song of sorts.
I saw a lot of my grandfather when I was younger, living in the same city. Even after we moved away, I still got back to Syracuse several times a year. He lived quite a few years after seeing see me graduate from Notre Dame, but when his time finally came it grieved me terribly.
I've always thought of funeral Masses as some of the darkest hours on Earth, especially those said for loved ones - and in most ways that held true for my grandfather's.
Until, that is, the time came to carry my grandfather from the church - and they began playing this song.
Such a sprightly tune at such a dark moment was more than an affirmation of heritage - it was an affirmation of faith, that he truly was headed for a better place.
For me. to this day, he and this song are indelibly linked.
I even have a green stuffed bear with a leprechaun hat, perched on my nightstand. It "sings" this song...
When Irish eyes are smiling
Sure it's like a morning spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter,
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away.
There's a tear in your eye,
and I'm wondering why,
For it never should be there at all.
With such power in your smile,
sure a stone you'd beguile,
So there's never a teardrop should fall.
When your sweet lilting laughter's like some fairy song,
And your eyes twinkle bright as can be,
You should laugh all the while and all other times smile,
And now smile a smile for me.
Chorus:
When Irish eyes are smiling
Sure it's like a morning spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter,
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away.
Happy St Patrick's Day, everyone!
Labels:
Grandpa,
Irish Eyes Are Smilin',
St. Patrick's Day,
Syracuse
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