Then and Now

Yesterday my Dubliners CD arrived. I’d gone looking for some Irish music with which to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with my tiny students. The Dubliners brought back memories of a second story apartment in an old house in Omaha, Nebraska. Two doctors shared quarters, one Irish and the product of a Jesuit education, a repository of rude limericks, and the maker of one mean beef and lime curry.

As I started to sing along with familiar lyrics, I found myself caught up in the rhythm, my feet tapping out a jig of their own invention. A fiddle, a banjo, and whiskey-rough voices softened by the lyric sound of Eire spun me and waltzed me and set me back down, a little lighter on the Earth than I’d been before.

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