Here we are, on St. Patrick’s Day, March 17–a day to celebrate St. Patrick, the wearin’ of the green, lots of Irish music that, to me, as a folk music DJ, doesn’t sound Irish (but it’s what they play in pubs today), and even green beer (yuck).
In my family, however, we celebrate the birth of my grandson, Brendan Patrick Prevost.
Truth be told, my daughter, who has taught in middle schools, decided not to name him Patrick because then his initials would have been PP–a way for kids in schools to make fun of him. Another truth be told: My son Tim was almost named Brendan. It was kind of a toss-up between Timothy and Brendan. My husband leaned toward Timothy because his mother liked to have a family name in the mix. There was a Thomas Timothy way back when in her heritage, so Timothy won out. But nine years ago today, I got my Brendan. Brendan Patrick, to be precise.
Now, this child is nine years old, extremely successful at sports, but he excels at hockey. He lives in Michigan, where hockey is king. He’s a goalie, and he studies the game more than any other nine-year old I’ve ever met. He looks out at the ice like a lighthouse, scanning the play before him. He dons pounds of protective hockey gear and still skates as if he’s walking on dry ground.
By the way, he’s also a baseball, basketball, hockey star. At age nine.
Intellectually, he far exceeds his age group as well. That’s something he has in common with his Uncle Tim, who was just like this at age nine. Brendan can carry on a conversation as if he were a college sophomore. He devours books as if he were in a hot dog eating contest on Coney Island. Last year, he did a presentation on climate change. He read twelve books, cover to cover, and also watched the documentary, “An Inconvenient Truth.” In his presentation, he went over the damage that was done when the United States pulled out of the Paris Climate Accords under the previous president, point by point.
Did I mention he also does Irish step dancing? I just watched him performing at a pub today with two girls his age. He continues to amaze me.
He does have a major flaw, however: He doesn’t like to write. He will explain things verbally with an articular nature belying his years, but give him a pen and paper or a computer and ask him to write a sentence? You might as well ask him to climb Mount Evarest without wearing boots.
Maybe he’ll grow out of it. I have no idea. But in the meantime, how about that skating, dancing, hitting, basket-shooting, soccer-runner? Today’s his birthday! Happy ninth, Brendan!
And, since it’s St. Patrick’s Day, I do have to relate an Irish tale. This actually happened to me when I was in Ireland in 2011. We were touring a working farm in Ireland. The farmer was demonstrating how the Irish dug peat and used it for heating their cottages. Several animals were walking around freely, including a huge pink pig, who seemed to like my company, and a small, gray donkey. The two began walking by my side as we walked throughout the farm.
Of course, it was raining. I had a scarf around my neck and a blue, plastic poncho over my coat. It was the same poncho I wear to folk festivals in the rain. Suddenly, I felt my scarf tightening around my neck. I looked down, and the pink pig was eating the end of my scarf. Don’t know what flavor it was, but she sure seemed to like it. As I picked it out of her mouth, I felt a tug from the other side. The donkey started eating my plastic poncho. I was being devoured by two farm animals at once.
I knew I had to throw the scarf away after it had been in that pig’s mouth. The poncho, on the other hand, survived, with only a few donkey-teeth marks on it. The farmer thought the whole things was hysterical. He said he’d never seen his animals doing anything like that before. He wanted to know what I’d been drinking the night before.
“Water,” I told him. “That’s about all I drink.”
He gave me a quick Irish smirk, as if to say,, “Yeah, I bet. Tell it to the pig.”
Who, Moi?
Hi, Wanda,
This is so funny!😂 You were a delicious treat. If you ever write your memoir, this story should go there.
Happy Belated St. Patrick’s Day! Today is Monday, the 18th, and I am just making my round of commenting.
By the way, I love soccer! We are now gearing up for the Champion League.
Have a lovely day.
Shalom shalom
Hi Pat–We will be seeing all of this family, as well as my son and his family. on Easter weekend. My son and his son were able to see the Irish group The Jeremiahs on Saturday night. I wrote about them on Friday. The Jeremiahs played close to where my son and his family live (New Hampshire). I was thrilled that they got to go. He spoke to the lead singer and received a free CD from him.
We’re starting March Madness this week–NCAA college basketball. It’s always fun for me to watch while I’m waiting for baseball season to start.
Oh, that’s hilarious, Wanda! Maybe that is why you smelled so fresh. I doubt the farmer was ever sober. LOL! Happy birthday to your grandson! I know how enjoyable it is to watch a child play and excel in sports. My son is great at everything he does, but he, too, does not enjoy writing. He used to love reading, but even that has fallen to the wayside. Sigh…
Yvette M Calleiro 🙂
http://yvettemcalleiro.blogspot.com
My grandson loves reading. But here’s an example of his disdain for writing: “How do you think _____ felt after coming home from school?” Brendan: Tired.
No complete sentences here!
As the grandson of a writer, he should have at least written, “He felt tired.” Three words!
As a teacher, you’ve probably encountered this many times. Maybe even in several languages.
Hi, Wanda!
What a hilarious tale! Eaten by two farm animals! I’m still chuckling!
Happy Birthday to Brendon Patrick! If he’s devouring books while excelling in sports, he has no time to write! When he does put his hand to paper (or fingers on the keyboard), his writing will be superb. I didn’t start writing books until well into my sixties. Before that, I also inhaled books.
Blessings!
Hi Patty–I didn’t start writing books until my late sixties. I used to write in my jobs for other people. I had to learn how to write for myself! Love to read books, though. When I was working a “day” job and in radio, I never seemed to have time to read books–only manuals or things related to my job.
Wanda, your grandson seems to be a real gem. You are lucky to have kids like him in the family. Have a great day!
Thanks, Karl. You too. I will be seeing them all for Easter. Can’t wait!
Wanda, first of all, I’d like to say that is a nice ass you’re showing there. Pigs will eat anything – including people! That is a hilarious story! Congrats to Brendon on his birthday. He’ll soon be scouted by local schools who will be interested in having him on their teams…I’ll have to watch the newspapers in the near future for his name. Our granddaughter hasn’t decided yet what she wants to get into once she reaches First Grade next year. Can’t wait to go to her auditions, etc.
Oh, Brendan takes Shakespeare classes, too! Maybe your granddaughter will be in a play with him sometime.
Yes, a nice ass, indeed, John!
I’m laughing. A pig and a donkey by your side chewing on your garments. Hilarious! As for your grandson, you must be so proud of him. He sounds like a genius. They are the future and we have to help and nurture and protect all of them. They may have to take care of us one day.
The pig and the donkey! I notice no one made any comments about my husband and the leprechaun crossing sign!
What an adventure you’ve had Wanda and in Ireland too !!!
Hi Joy–I hope to get back there one day. My goal is one more time to Ireland and one more time to Scotland. We went to England in 1979, when my father-in-law flew his retirement flight for TWA. It was ho-hum for the rest of the family, since they’d been there so many times. It was exciting for me. Went to the Cecile Sharpe house, headquarters for British folk music!
Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Wanda, and happy birthday to your grandson. Our son’s birthday is on St. Patrick’s Day, too, so I understand the double celebration!
Two farm animals? What a riot!
Guess I’ll never be an Irish farmer! But I’ll always be Irish!