This one is a fairly new one, as it was just written in 2010. As with our other March stories we thought we’d share it once again! – BS 2013 UPDATE: Video corrected
Irish history is more than just words on paper. Like so many civilizations past we tend to put our stories, our mythos in to song.
Many have heard the songs of Ireland and found them any array of reactions from distinctive, to beautiful, to addictive. Music is not merely a form of expression for the Irish. It’s a way of reliving our past, and it is probably one of the few mediums in which blood has not been shade amongst ourselves.
The son of the god Lugh and Deichtine, Cú Chulainn was originally named Sétanta . He gained his better-known name, Cú Chulainn, as a child after he killed Culann’s fierce guard-dog in self-defense, and offered to take its place until a replacement could be reared.
(BloodSpite’s Note: I originally wrote this in March of 2011. I’ve republished here for this years Irish Heritage celebration. I hope you enjoy!)
I’ve mentioned before that my family hails from County Armagh. However, my family does not align itself with the Ulsters. It’s one of the reasons we left Ireland in the 1940′s my grandfather having had enough of the frictions between the North and South, “We were all Irish, dammit.” he would often curse in his latter years with a shake of his head.
This post isn’t about politics however, it’s more about a place that politics happened.
I originally wrote this in 2010 here. While I try not to add anything to my original posts when I re-post them I do try to correct spelling, punctuation, etc. I also have a bad habit of adding new pictures upon occassion. Otherwise you should find little, to no differences between the reposted material, and the original. – BloodSpite
Click for larger version
Danny Boy is one of over 100 songs composed to the same tune.
The author was an English lawyer, Frederic Edward Weatherly (1848-1929), who was also a songwriter and radio entertainer. In 1910 he wrote the words and music for an unsuccessful song he called Danny Boy. In 1912 his sister-in-law in America sent him a tune called the Londonderry Air, which he had never heard before. He immediately noticed that the melody was perfectly fitted to his Danny Boy lyrics, and published a revised version of the song in 1913. As far as I know, Weatherly never set foot in Ireland.
This isn’t really a Fathers day post. But in many ways it is. I wrote it originally in October of 2010. The more I go over it and see the relationship between my own father, and his father to me I am forced to think that despite the undertone…maybe it is about Fathers Day after all.
When your coming home Dad, I don’t know when
But we’ll get together then yea
You know we’ll have a good time then…
My Dad and I hold this song between us. Its a bit of a testament to when he was in the Navy and gone for months at a time. Before Facebook. Before Skype. Before E-mail. Before cellphones. Deployments on a Aircraft Carrier could keep him gone most of a year with little to no communication save letters via the ever so slow US postal service.
I got a lot of E-mails and Facebook comments with my rendition of Glory to Georgia. Couple of folks didn’t know I played.
I don’t…play well that is. I have a bad habit of repeating rifts over and over especially if I am singing.
Time to stretch the legs and break free for the weekend.
I got a marathon weekend myself so don’t look for me to be around much
But lets get it started right anyway aye?
Now I know that was Tuesday, but lets face it. It runs damn near all week in Louisiana. So howzabout a New Orelans Street Band for our music today?
For our quote howzabout one of the kings of Jazz?
Critics have their purposes, and they’re supposed to do what they do, but sometimes they get a little carried away with what they think someone should have done, rather than concerning themselves with what they did.
And with that folks, lets get out of here and get this day over so we can fire up the weekend!
Been too long since we posted one of these yes? Thank Gawd its Friday!
So lets get this party rolling!
It’s also helpful to realize that this very body that we have, that’s sitting right here right now… with its aches and it pleasures… is exactly what we need to be fully human, fully awake, fully alive.
As a boy things were pretty rough at times. Before we moved down to Taylorsville, GA our family home was a 2 room cabin in the hills of Big Creek. Our running water was a spring out front, our heat was a pot bellied wood stove, our bath a 50 gallon washtub and a bathroom that was as big as all out doors.
The military was a slice of heaven to me.
You learn to adapt. I don’t begrudge those things above, in fact in someways I miss them. I miss the cold mornings warmed by a cup of coffee listening to nothing but the trees and naught but Charles Dickens to keep me company. I miss the simplicity, and the quiet. I miss the peace. We were “off the grid” before there came to be such a concept. In those days “off the grid” just meant “poor”, but you couldn’t tell us that.
I spent the evenings after home work lost in Robinson Crusoe, As I Lay Dying, and Go Down, Moses. You didn’t need electricity for books.
In many ways I have often considered that song to be a story of me. The cabin is gone now, my father has built his own house on the property. It’s been a long hard road for us. Trials and tribulations. I have a education I thought I would never get, and I am still traveling that road. My daughter does not lack for things to have, and truth be told is probably spoiled.
I have a few regrets, who doesn’t? Some dreams lost to the wayside. I have made many mistakes in my youth, as we all do.
So it goes c’sera sera, or as my grandfather would say: De reir a cheile a thogtar na caisleain. It takes time to build castles.
The year is almost over and the new year solstice will be celebrated, as it should be with friends. Consider me with you in spirit. Try to think of the good things that have came your way, find grace in the things you could not change. Most of all have a Happy New Year, from all of us at Registered Evil. We are thankful to have you, dear readers, among our friends.
So back in the 1990′s when I walked out of Cass Comprehensive High School in Cartersville, GA I had tried to go to college. I was accepted to Piedmont College, but my folks were so broke and I was so (to put it delicately) inept in my studies that not only could I not fund my college experience, I couldn’t even pay for the gas to get there to have their Financial Aid department attempt to work their magic.
I had used my HOPE Scholarships attending North Metro Technical Institute (Its changed names about three times since then…it’s now Chattahoochee Tech), but at the time I had no idea what in the hell accreditation meant, and they didn’t have any. They did help me graduate high school though so don’t read that statement as a bitter one, because I am not.
Anyway long story short, college quickly became a second consideration versus “What in the hell do I do with my self now?”
Sitting by Allatoona Lake drinking beer with the boys worked real well for about a month, but it didn’t take long for me to figure out I couldn’t build boat docks for a living.I bummed around Nashville for about two weeks thinking I’d be the next Alan Jackson or Neil Young. I made $20 bucks one a street corner for my efforts. Intro family tradition and the Army recruiter stage right. I swore one day I’d never be so broke my kid couldn’t go to college when they had the chance.
It may not be a “traditional” school, but my University of Phoenix education was not a walk in the park, and I busted my ass for my degree. The turn over rate in students is pretty high, so to be one of the last folks standing makes me pretty happy. Anyone who says its a worthless degree, or a easy school, ask them if they graduated: If they say yes, congratulations on being smarter than me. I’m an adult I can handle it. If they say no…well…I guess it wasn’t so easy was it?
It’s also my last day at my current job.
Between the new job, surviving the deadly storms of last night, and just maybe a little something new to blog about, inspired by several storm-chasers and other NOAA Spotters I have networked with via Twitter, this is a good thing. A New dawn so to speak.
“The immigrant’s heart marches to the beat of two quite different drums, one from the old homeland and the other from the new. The immigrant has to bridge these two worlds, living comfortably in the new and bringing the best of his or her ancient identity and heritage to bear on life in an adopted homeland.”
- Irish President McAleese
How about a catchy tune this morning from The Irish Rovers? The Drunken Sailor