My friend Danny began a countdown to St. Patrick's Day at the 14 day point. Each day he sends out an email to a group of friends and family with St. Patty's Day related facts, stories and music. I love a theme. I love stories. I love this countdown. Danny was kind enough to ask me to contribute a story for the countdown. My contribution was sent out today. Here it is:
From Danny:
San Francisco is a well-known destination for the Irish, and is right up there with Boston, New York, and Chicago. It is also the home of the Irish coffee, which was invented in 1952 at the Buena Vista Cafe right by Ghiradelli Square and Fisherman's Wharf. San Francisco is also where I met my close friend Mary Colleran, a true rock star happens to be one of the best writers I know! A world traveler, a musician, a resident of the Windy City, and one amazing creator of prose, I asked if she would be willing to submit a short, and very true, story of our San Francisco St. Patrick's Day from 2003-2004. And she absolutely rose to the challenge! I just wish I could remember the joke I told. But with one week remaining, I would like to share with you Mare's thought's on all that is good, all that is Irish, all that is St. Patrick's Day:
Hello family and friends of Danny,
I’m thoroughly enjoying Danny’s countdown to St. Patrick’s Day. Informative, funny and entertaining. Just like our Danny. When Danny asked if I’d like to contribute a story to the countdown I gladly accepted. It’s truly an honor.
I had the privilege of sharing St. Patrick’s Day with Danny in…2003? We were both living in the Bay Area, and met up to attend the San Francisco St. Patrick’s Day street festival. As I’m sure you’re all aware, hanging out with Danny almost always includes making new friends and enjoying a frosty beverage usually accompanied by some sweet tunes, and laughing hysterically. This night was no different. Except, in my experience, unlike this fateful St. Patty’s Day, nights hanging out with Danny don’t usually involve a 60-something named Barbara.
Danny and I befriended a group of strangers in the middle of the street. We shared stories and being the dedicated native of the Commonwealth that Danny is, he told a really long joke about Mainers. Danny went to go grab another beer and I stayed chatting with my new friends. A fair amount of time had passed and I went to look for Danny. I finally found him. There he was, dancing in the middle of the street, with an extremely overserved woman who looked to be twice his age. This gal was married, but her Irish eyes were clearly smiling for Mr. Richer. Danny, always a good sport, danced for a bit, occasionally looking over at me with a “WHAT is going on here?!” glance. I wanted to try to save him but I was doubled over in laughter and really couldn’t move. Finally, Danny broke away from Barbara’s stronghold and propped her up against her husband. He walked over to where I standing and quickly assumed the doubled over in laughter position. When he was finally able to speak, Danny said, “She said….she said…. (more hysterical laughter)….MY NAME IS BARBARA AND I THINK I LOVE YOU. And then…she kissed me….she kissed me…. (even more hysterical laughter) on the cheek!” I completely lost it again.
Now for the Irish music portion of this post. Raise your hand if you don’t know that Danny loves Springsteen. Trick question because there’s probably no way to get your hand up from that rock you’re living under. Being born and raised in Jersey helped me develop into something of an obsessed Springsteen fan myself. From my first conversation with Danny about Springsteen, I knew we had to see a Springsteen show together sometime. So when the 2009 spring tour dates were announced, Danny and I did some coordinating, and I booked my flight from Chicago to Pittsburgh. As Danny so accurately says, “Doers do.” On May 8, 2009, Danny drove up from West Virginia, picked me up at the airport, and we were off to the Bryce Jordan Area at Penn State. That show is another story entirely but all this to say, when I think of St. Patty’s Day and Ireland and Irish people…I think of hospitality, friendship, music, meat and potatoes, celebrating the little things, finding humor in all situations, honoring your family, and singing loudly with abandon when the mood strikes you. These are all things that also describe my friendship with Danny.
So on the evening of May 8, 2009 at the Bryce Jordan Center when Springsteen and the E Street Band busted out the song “American Land” during their encore, Danny and I both freaked out. An Irish jig of sorts with incredible lyrics. Here’s the performance from that night.
They died building the railroads, worked to bones and skin
They died in the fields and factories, names scattered in the wind
They died to get here a hundred years ago, they're dyin' now
The hands that built the country we're all trying to keep down
There's diamonds in the sidewalk, there's gutters lined in song
Dear I hear that beer flows through the faucets all night long
There's treasure for the taking, for any hard working man
Who will make his home in the American land
I mean, come ON. Lyrics like that are just one of many reasons that Springsteen rules. So, as we gear up for this St. Patrick’s Day, I feel particularly grateful for all of our ancestors, Irish, Italian, German, Jewish…you name it, who helped to make my home in the American Land. If not, I wouldn’t be here in this place, at this time, writing to you fine people. To those of you that I don’t know, I hope we meet some day. Until then…I’ll leave you with this Irish prayer:
May God give you...
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.
Peace and love,
Mary
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