I am a loud and proud Irish girl, so this is my month, but it is really challenging to feel lucky right now. I'll say it, I'm scared. I feel helpless to do anything to stop my country from crumbling or to protect the people I love. I know I am not alone in these feelings, but that somehow makes it worse. So many are suffering.
As an younger adult, I found Irish music, plays by O'Neill, poems by Yeats (especially when recited by Christopher Plummer), and the comfort of a Smithwick’s (pronounced SMI-tix) at a pub paneled in deep wood with stories flowing helped me stay grounded during moments of sadness, hopelessness, and uncertainty. I later learned that my great great grandparents came from Cork and went through Ellis Island before moving onto Illinois where they served as a pastry chef and cook for a young senator named Lincoln.
I think we could all use a little of the Irish spirit right now. The persistence and grit to stay the course through famine and The Troubles. The joy and community that nourishes sorrow at an Irish wake. And the freedom and fortitude of the grand laugh of a ginger haired Irishman.
So this, month as we eagerly await spring, may a bird poop on you (this is good luck), may you avoid getting scissors from a friend (bad luck for the relationship), and since itchy palms could mean wealth or famine, I think it’s best to avoid them all together (maybe try moisturizer). In college, I had the good fortune to sing my favorite Irish blessing. I offer you these three minutes of peace and beauty.
In Faith and Service,
Laurice Grae
Executive Director
gender pronouns: she/they
pronounced: LOR-ris GRAY
