It is well known in my family that my dad hates memorials to the potato famine. If you want to know why, just ask him! It’s a “ooh! ooh! Mr. Kotter! Ooh! We were victimized too! We were victimized too!!” desperation that my dad despises. A-boo-hoo-hoo there was a potato famine. Get over it. Stop wallowing. So you had to eat your great-grandmother when she died. SO WHAT!! She was old anyway. I love to get my dad going on the potato famine memorials. The O’Malleys are from County Mayo – one of the hardest hit counties – but whatevs. Is that any reason to put up memorials in every city about it? It was black ’47, a-boo-hoo. It’s 2006 now. GET OVER IT. You just want to be included in the roll call of the world’s biggest victims. Etc. I could go on and on, but you get the drift.<\/p>\n
In our walk yesterday I said something like, “Somewhere along here is a memorial to the potato famine. Which of course makes dad crazy.”<\/p>\n
I was talking to Bren, but of course Cashel heard this and I could feel his little brain turning it over. Then the inevitable: “Why does the potato famine memorial make Gampa crazy?”<\/p>\n
Bren replied, “Oh, because he’s cranky.”<\/p>\n
We walked and walked. We saw the Korean War Memorial. We saw the US Navy memorial. We saw the really cool memorial to the Merchant Marines<\/a>. That engendered a great discussion. Mainly about the seagull who perched on top of the main statue’s head. Then suddenly, we saw something that looked like a discarded set for a Flintstone movie. Seriously. Look at the potato famine memorial in Battery Park <\/a>and you’ll see what I’m talking about.<\/p>\n “What is that?” asked Cashel.<\/p>\n “Some memorial, Cash. I have no idea what it is.”<\/p>\n Then we heard some loudspeakered voice moaning on and on reproachfully and we heard the Irish accent and Bren said, “Oh God. It’s the potato famine memorial.”<\/p>\n “We have to go check it out.”<\/p>\n We walked through it. There’s a kind of recreation of – oh – Glendalough – but – it’s dumb. I didn’t say anything, though, because who knows – maybe Cashel would LIKE the potato famine memorial, and it’s not up to me to tell him how to feel. We stood in one of the little Glendalough-esque alcoves, listening to the a-boo-hoo-hoo loudspeaker voice – on autopilot – there was an “old” stove cut into the wall, and Cashel went over and sat in it. All around us was the overwhelming sadness of the millions of Irish dead. Not. It looked like a Flintstone set.<\/p>\n Then I said, “Oh my God. We have to call Gampa right now and tell him where we are.”<\/p>\n So we did. It was hysterical. I dialed – Dad picked up – and I said, “Hang on, Dad – we want to tell you where we are right now …” And on the count of 3, just like we planned, Cashel, Bren and I screamed into the phone: “WE’RE AT THE POTATO FAMINE MEMORIAL!”<\/p>\n Seeing Cashel, with the huge smile on his face, and his big-boy teeth, scream those words – and he doesn’t even really get WHY the potato famine memorial is funny – but he knows it’s a joke, and that we’re “getting Gampa” and that will be, in and of itself, funny.<\/p>\n My dad was HOWLING.<\/p>\n The funniest thing about it is that people were wandering around through the memorial – people of all nationalities – looking at the plaques, listening to the a-boo-hoo overhead, contemplating, being serious and respectful – blah blah – and 3 people of actual Irish descent stand in their midst, shouting into a phone about how FUNNY the memorial is.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" It is well known in my family that my dad hates memorials to the potato famine. If you want to know why, just ask him! It’s a “ooh! ooh! Mr. Kotter! Ooh! We were victimized too! We were victimized too!!” … Continue reading
![Merchant Marines<\/a>. That engendered a great discussion. Mainly about the seagull who perched on top of the main statue’s head. Then suddenly, we saw something that looked like a discarded set for a Flintstone movie. Seriously.](\"http:\/\/www.bobn10ab.com\/gallery\/0007\/P5010039s.jpg\"){kind=link}
![Look at the potato famine memorial in Battery Park <\/a>and you’ll see what I’m talking about.<\/p>\n“What is that?” asked Cashel.<\/p>\n“Some memorial, Cash. I have no idea what it is.”<\/p>\nThen we heard some loudspeakered voice moaning on and on reproachfully and we heard the Irish accent and Bren said, “Oh God. It’s the potato famine memorial.”<\/p>\n“We have to go check it out.”<\/p>\nWe walked through it. There’s a kind of recreation of – oh – Glendalough – but – it’s dumb. I didn’t say anything, though, because who knows – maybe Cashel would LIKE the potato famine memorial, and it’s not up to me to tell him how to feel. We stood in one of the little Glendalough-esque alcoves, listening to the a-boo-hoo-hoo loudspeaker voice – on autopilot – there was an “old” stove cut into the wall, and Cashel went over and sat in it. All around us was the overwhelming sadness of the millions of Irish dead. Not. It looked like a Flintstone set.<\/p>\nThen I said, “Oh my God. We have to call Gampa right now and tell him where we are.”<\/p>\nSo we did. It was hysterical. I dialed – Dad picked up – and I said, “Hang on, Dad – we want to tell you where we are right now …” And on the count of 3, just like we planned, Cashel, Bren and I screamed into the phone: “WE’RE AT THE POTATO FAMINE MEMORIAL!”<\/p>\nSeeing Cashel, with the huge smile on his face, and his big-boy teeth, scream those words – and he doesn’t even really get WHY the potato famine memorial is funny – but he knows it’s a joke, and that we’re “getting Gampa” and that will be, in and of itself, funny.<\/p>\nMy dad was HOWLING.<\/p>\nThe funniest thing about it is that people were wandering around through the memorial – people of all nationalities – looking at the plaques, listening to the a-boo-hoo overhead, contemplating, being serious and respectful – blah blah – and 3 people of actual Irish descent stand in their midst, shouting into a phone about how FUNNY the memorial is.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"It is well known in my family that my dad hates memorials to the potato famine. If you want to know why, just ask him! It’s a “ooh! ooh! Mr. Kotter! Ooh! We were victimized too! We were victimized too!!” … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a> Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[3],"tags":[1101,35,161],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5088"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5088"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5088\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17417,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5088\/revisions\/17417"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5088"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5088"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5088"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}](\"http:\/\/www.rsapc.com\/projects\/pictures\/irishhunger.jpg\"){kind=link}