If it walks like a Duck...

I am so into this "Black Donnelly" show. I know it's extremely violent, but it's pulling at my heartstrings.

All the brothers, look like my dad...
tall and lanky, intense eyes, thin lips, very good looking! The show's motto, "there's nothing they wouldn't do to protect each other" is so George. Loyalty was everything to him.

The mom, who is introduced by the 3rd episode is definitely the matriarch. She runs everything, and knows everything. If she says so it happens. I believe that's very much what my dad grew up with.

It looks and feels like the Bronx's of my dad's era. They make all these references to the Irish and it's like they're talking about me.

This lady's husband dies and she's carrying around his sweater but then comments that he never wore it because he was always so hot. My ideal temperature is 50. I keep the thermostat at 62 in the winter. I just thought it was hormones, or being over weight. No. It's because I'm Irish!

Then this couple was going to break up and he says well if it's not going to work you'll have to leave because I'm Irish and the Irish stick no matter how bad it is(OK, that was from the other Irish show the "Departed" but I'm not suppose to watch shows like that). Still, my friend tells me I love a good wallow. It's hard for me to walk away from anything.

Maybe there's something about being in the middle of your life that makes you want to take a look at the beginning. Who am I, really? Why have I made all the decisions I've made. What motivates me?




I've stayed in a religion against a lot of odds. No real support for it at home as a kid. No real activity in it during my teen years. Yet I tell a guy that I can't marry him because he's not my religion, even though I'm not living my religion. Then I marry a guy who is my religion and I think we're living it but he's not. He cleans up his act and remarkably(well maybe not considering what I've just learned about the Irish)I stay with him.



I'm driving home from the Temple the other night and it occurs to me that I have no idea why I believe the way I do. It's just in me. I can't really explain it but it's the very essence of who I am.

I can't imagine being anything else. Even when I wasn't supporting my beliefs with my actions, I knew in my heart that I could never truly be anything else. It's crazy.

It's not my father's religion, it was my mother's. But my dad wanted it for me. I think somewhere in my head that made a huge impression. Even though he chose not to live it he wanted it for me and I knew he wanted what was best for me.

Maybe it's that simple. Living a religion, because it's what my dad wanted for me, for all of his children. Knowing that my dad would have done anything to protect us and give us the best shot at this life, because that's what's at the heart of being Irish.



He didn't have faith in his life, but he wanted us to have it in ours. That's gotta mean something.

Now, I Understand

TO BE IRISH IS TO KNOW THAT IN THE END THE WORLD WILL BRECK YOUR HEART

...DANIEL PATRICK MOYNIHAN...

My Irish Me

I'm Irish you know. Half Irish actually, which is a lot. My dad was born in Wicklow, Ireland.

I'm told that I look like my Dad even though he had black hair and very blue eyes. But it's the features, especially the smile...a little crooked. I also have a crooked right pinkie just like my dad's crooked right pinkie. He said it was a "Keith" thing. I love it. I'm also quite reserved like my dad. A little anti social. I prefer a lot of alone time.

I love water and I'd like to think that it's because my father was born near the Irish Sea. I think it's a genetic imprint because I grew up in the west far from any ocean. Water is magic for me. It does things to my soul like nothing else in this world. I could live on an island and be perfectly happy. Water, sand, sun.....perfection.

The closest I've come to heaven has been Boston. A close second, Rhode Island. So my genetic imprint prefers the east. Oregon, and California aren't quite as magical for me(though I do love Carmel).

I don't know if I'll ever make it to Ireland, so I've decided to give my house a name. I'm calling it "Wicklow Manor" in honor of my heritage. In honor of my dad.

March 17th has always been a special day for me. My eyes are very green. Irish green. I never wear green on St Patrick's day. When someone goes to pinch me, I tell them I'm Irish and my green is always with me....

My grandfather was born on March 17th and my dad believes he died on March 17th. He actually died on March 16th, but I believe God will somehow fix it.