| The Irish Pride thing
Pride: A word loaded with so much ambiguity and fierce power. Pride. The greatest of all sins and the greatest of all duties. Now stir Irish Pride into the mix… Well, that didn’t clear anything up. Lets talk about the Irish and their pride. You've done it, haven't you? You're in a bookstore and you pick up a book of interest – say, the US Civil War. The first place you go is to the index to see if they mention Ireland or the Irish or Murphy or O'Toole or maybe even your own family name. Maybe some son of Ireland got medals for "conspicuous gallantry in the field" a hundred or more years ago. Maybe it is a book about folk or traditional music or pop music. You want to see if they mention The Dubliners, The Chieftains, U2, The Corrs, or whoever. I flicked through an international cookery book to see if they had anything from Ireland, other than the old staple Irish soda bread - which I would not eat if I could get rocks (Sorry, Mom!). Nope. Nothing. Nada. I often get let down on that one. I picked up a book about different beers from around the world and hoped against hope that they mentioned at least one Irish beer. I mean if the world stereotypes us as drinkers, and they do, one would think they would at least mention our beer in an encyclopedia of drink. Well, lo and behold, there was my home county beer - Smithwicks to the cognoscenti - which was very accurately described if my taste buds are anything to go by. Finding that beer brought a sense of relief - not unlike the discovery that my great grandfather was not "hung for sheep stealing" after all. I was once told the most medals of highest conspicuous gallantry won by any ethnic group in the US, the famous Congressional Medal of Honor or Great Britain's Victoria Cross were held by men with Irish last names. I haven't checked. It is such a great story. Lie to me. Please. How we thrill when we hear of the "Fighting O' Sullivans" - all the five sons of an Irish-American mother who were lost in a single war. What about the Civil War battle where, given impossible odds, the Irish regiments, fighting on the Union side, stormed the entrenched Southern forces repeatedly until finally the Southern soldiers in their invincible position stopped firing and in clear admiration of the Irish courage - and like the Southern military gentlemen they were- applauded up and down their lines. That rings down through time to my heart. Where the cockles are. When Sinead O' Connor was booed off the stage at the Bob Dylan 30th anniversary concert, I felt a pang of shame - matched only by the shame I felt when she tore up a picture of Pope John Paul II on US national TV a few weeks earlier, which had led to the boos in the first place. The only Irish person to be booed off an American stage, possibly ever. Americans are very polite. Booing is anathema to them. She really crossed a line on that one. Oh, the shame of it! I was fit to be tied. Yet when she was absent from the CD made of that concert, I missed her voice. Hers is a talent that transcends. I am so proud of her being Irish too in an odd cantankerous way. The world gives her talent enormous recognition. How could such talent be denied? Maybe her next CD will be more - how to say it- inclusive. Would an apology work if she sang it? I'd buy the CD. When an American friend asked me what the population of Ireland is I answered, "around 5 million if you include Northern Ireland”. He looked at me oddly.
I was getting ready to lay a hurling stick to the side of his head (that Irish insecurity thing you know), when he saved himself from the onslaught by saying, " My God, is that all? There's no way. You guys are such a huge part of the US it is hard to imagine you being from a country that has so few people. Your influence in the US is soooo way out of proportion to your size". The glow of national pride on an Irishman when he hears that praise of his own native home – can’t be beat I tell you. Get the man an ice cold Smithwicks! He has a wicked drought on him. This is Texas. Hurry, man!
Thomas A. Cahill © | 
