Yet another installment in the mortifying exercise known as Diary Friday. This is also from my Ireland journal. I am 14 years old, I think. 13, something like that. I’m posting this one, in particular, today, my parents wedding anniversary … because it tells the story of an experience we had, as a family, in Ireland which none of us will ever forget. We all probably have different memories of it, different snippets remain – because of our ages – Siobhan was only four years old – but it made a HUGE impact. This was what our parents gave us, by taking us out of school, taking us out of America, and bringing us to Ireland. It was an extraordinary experience to have for small-town kids such as the O’Malley kids. And I love it, because this little journal entry, written by me – a self-absorbed adolescent – recognizes it – I recognize that this was an amazing experience, a glimpse into another world entirely, something that did change me forever. I lived in America, sure, but I never forgot my visit with Auntie Bridgie in Killarney. And I seem to know, even back then, that I would always see the world just a little bit differently, because of our experience that day.<\/p>\n
Also, I LOVE the detail about my mother telling us to eat whatever Bridgie gave us … that it was important for Bridgie to be able to feed us … saying “No thank you” is not an option, when someone who has pretty much nothing offers you food. You say, “YES!”<\/p>\n
We left Dingle. It was a quaint little town. We are on our way to Killarney. Mum said we were going to do some visiting today in Cahirciveen – Grandpa’s father’s brother’s wife — Aunt Bridget (Bridgie) who is about 83 years old. Mum told me about her. She has no teeth, serves whiskey any time of day, does not have a toilet in the house, and once when Mama was there [that’s my grandmother<\/i>], a cow walked right in.<\/p>\n
I was kind of nervous, but it was so funny. Auntie Bridgie [that’s what we all called her. She was not an “Aunt” – she was definitely an “Auntie”<\/i>] was so delighted to see us. She waited at her gate with her arms stretched out to us. She had no teeth, wore a black dress, red sweater, and black boots, and she talked so much. She was a riot.<\/p>\n
Her house is 150 years old, very dim, with two chairs, green mirrors, and an extremely <\/i>farmy smell. Cows live in the garage. On the wall is a picture of the Pope. And Bridgie’s husband’s Irish Army medal or whatever. He’s dead.<\/p>\n
For such an old lady, she is in great shape. She bustled around, making tea, and setting the table, and boy, did she talk. She laughs a lot, too.<\/p>\n
Flies were everywhere. It was kind of disgusting, but I was very in awe of her.<\/p>\n
She was born <\/u>in that house and she has lived there her whole life.<\/p>\n
Her son, Jackie, came in. He’s about 38, and very good-looking. He was really nice and he went upstairs to get the whiskey to give to my parents. Mum and Dad were trying not to laugh. I can tell that Bridgie thinks that Jackie is just wonderful<\/u> – the most wonderful<\/u> man who has ever been born. She repeats everything<\/u> he says, and beams at him, toothlessly.<\/p>\n
I love her.<\/p>\n
Jackie came up to me holding out a big glass of orange liquid – or golden liquid – and I thought it was whiskey and I was like: “Well … uh …” but it turned out to be orange soda.<\/p>\n
Bridgie wanted all of us to eat eat eat and she sat us down at the table, and I did not want a thing at all. But she kept saying, “Have some tea\/bread\/meat\/milk\/mints” and I felt so stupid and rude saying, “No, thank you” “No, thank you” – But she really kept at me, so I had a ham sandwich, and had a sip of tea. The plates were really really dirty. But I ate off them anyway.<\/p>\n
Mum said that it is very important for Bridgie to serve us, and also to have something to give us … and so that we should eat whatever she offered. To be polite.<\/p>\n
Then Jackie took us up to look at the new house he had built for them, that they would move into in June. It is new and modern. Jackie showed us how the toilet flushed. We all watched the water go down. A modern toilet is new for these people.<\/p>\n
I really cannot picture little old Auntie Bridgie in that modern house. Mum said that she probably would walk down the hill every day, and just sit in the doorway of her old dim cottage, watching the cows.<\/p>\n
We stayed there for a while. We petted the cows. We listened to Jackie and Bridgie talk. He drives a milk truck into Dublin, I think. Mum and Dad drank whiskey, even though it was only 11 o’clock in the morning. Bridgie has a huge TV in that dim room. HUGE. Bigger than ours. Cows walk by the door and moo in at us, and there’s the huge TV. So funny.<\/p>\n
Jackie and Bridgie. What a pair.<\/p>\n
They are both so wonderful. I think it was so great for all of us to meet them.<\/p>\n
The whole thing was a very learning, broadening experience and I am going to write about it for one of my English assignments.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Yet another installment in the mortifying exercise known as Diary Friday. This is also from my Ireland journal. I am 14 years old, I think. 13, something like that. I’m posting this one, in particular, today, my parents wedding anniversary … Continue reading