Slainte`
Slainte`
[Cheers in Gaelic and fittingly also the name of the website of the Scottish Information and Libraries Council: www.slainte.org.uk/]
When you’ve loved, let go, and loved again, sometimes it is hard to know how to feel about things so entwined with the love of your past. With the relatively recent revival of Celtic/Gaelic/Irish culture, I’m more than occasionally reminded of my former life. I always feel a little empty spot in my heart each St. Patrick’s Day. And, on that day each year, I always wear my little gold Claddagh around my neck in honor of my past.
It was during my college years that I was an honorary daughter of Erin. There is a smidge of Irish through the Neal (O’Neal) line on my mother’s side. I didn’t really know about it growing up, so I always felt left out on St. Patrick’s Day in my Irish Catholic neighborhood. I wasn’t even sure I was supposed to wear green on March 17 as I was a German Lutheran. At one time I thought I was supposed to wear orange because I was a Protestant. I love the person who coined the phrase, “Everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day!”
During the fall of my freshman year at college, some dorm mates dragged me to a pre-game breakfast at a fraternity. This impressionable music major spied a cute guy playing the hammered dulcimer in the corner. He was mostly Scottish with a wee bit o’ Irish mixed in. His major was advertising, but his true love was Celtic music. Of all the young woman swarming around in that fraternity house, he found me across the room. That combined with his interest in music caught my attention. A significant, positive, and memorable relationship began that fall day.
During the early days of our relationship, my friend introduced me to The Bothy Band, Planxty, and The Chieftans, among others. Until this time, I had only heard of the Irish Rovers and legend has it that my grandpa liked to sing, Danny Boy.
Traditional Irish music was virtually unknown to the masses and I was no exception. I was a classically trained ‘cellist and singer heavily influenced by the pop music of the day. And, in this day, U2 was barely on the charts and Sin`ead O’Connor had yet to insult the pope.
My friend played the Highland bagpipes and a little fiddle in addition to hammered dulcimer. During Christmas break, he took me to a Detroit Pipers Society meeting at the White Heather Club. It was there I first made the acquaintance of a group of musicians and friends who would play a big part of my life during my college years. Most of these people were a little older and already in the working world. They all loved to play Irish music and they were all good at their craft.
My friend became my boyfriend sometime between that Detroit Pipers Society meeting and the Detroit Irish Festival that summer. His original profession of love for me was with a bouquet of daisies and carnations delivered on March 17, 1983. The sentiment on the enclosed card was penned in Gaelic and translated as, “I love you”. It was really romantic and unexpected as we hadn’t dated or talked in weeks!
Most of our relationship was long distance. He graduated a year after we met and his career took him to Chicago the following Spring. I split my time between school, home, and visits to Chicago.
When we got together in the Detroit area, Irish music was always on the agenda. We patronized venues such as Cowleys Old Village Inn, McCarthy’s Party, Gaelic League/Irish-American Club; The Old Shillelagh, and so on. Irish festivals & Highland Games were always a staple of our dating life. If we went to a sports event or concert (classical or pop), the night was always rounded out with the ceili (jam session) of the night. Sometimes my boyfriend would join in the playing, but many times we would just sit and listen. The instrumentation would vary according to those in attendance, but usually included Uilliann pipes (Irish bagpipes), Irish flute, tin whistle, fiddle, concertina, fiddle, and bodhran. At the time, no one played Celtic harp, but now it is a huge part of the traditional Irish scene. I’m sure the absence of the harp was part of the reason for my boyfriend’s hammered dulcimer being so welcome to the circle. Highland pipes weren’t generally played in small indoor spaces, but I’ve been in a small boarding house room listening to them as well! They’re much louder in person!
To the real Irish, St. Patrick’s Day isn’t much different that any other great day for a ceili. I remember being the only one in our group who wore green one year! There are also the parades, but ironically, the Highland (Scottish) pipes are the primary parade instrument for the Celts. (After all, the Highland pipes were made for the battlefield!)
Keep in mind, this was in the early 1980s, well before The Lord of the Dance, Michael Flatly helped begin this era’s Celtic revival with Riverdance. These Celtic friends of mine were on the cutting edge. So much a part of the revival itself, Michael Flatly was part of this same scene.
The Detroit Irish scene and the Chicago Irish scene are closely connected. When my boyfriend moved from the Detroit area, he was encouraged to get in touch with the locals who were active on the Irish cultural scene in Chicago. The Flatley’s were frequently mentioned. One long weekend, I drove to Chicago with a couple of our friends to see my boyfriend and attend a wedding.
At the reception, everyone kept saying that the bride’s brother was a championship Irish dancer and kept begging him to get on the floor and dance. So here I was, sitting at a wedding reception, c. 1984 watching the bride’s brother, Michael Flatley dance with one of our friends accompanying him on Irish flute.
I took this all for granted.
Here I was in the middle of this music/dance revolution, a trained musician and I didn’t even try to join in. One of the guys really tried to encourage me and one time, I tried to play along by ear which I had never done before. I felt so silly and never tried again. For what ever reason, I just figured that I wasn’t Irish and my cello just wasn’t supposed to be part of this “party”.
Looking back, it was such a missed opportunity, regardless of my romantic relationship or heritage. Today, Irish fiddling is a part of taking violin lessons for a lot of young players. Irish fiddler Natalie McMaster is playing with the Detroit Symphony this weekend. Celtic cello is also hot and it could have been me. (Although I wouldn’t recommend combining Irish dance with cello playing as you see done with the fiddle and dance!) And, thanks to the integration of the music and dance of other cultures into shows like Riverdance, you don’t have to be Irish to be an Irish musician!
When I ended our relationship (for no good reason, actually), I broke all ties to him and his music. I don’t know if it was a rebellion against that part of my past, sad memories it invoked, or loyalty to new loves, but I quit listening to Irish music altogether. Until recently, I’ve been afraid to see Riverdance because of what it might stir in my soul.
Last year at this time, I “Googled” some old names and found this website http://www.detroitirish.org/ about the local Irish scene in Detroit. A lot of the same faces were there smiling back. Some have passed on, but the brightest part was all the kids carrying on the tradition. My friend is pretty much absent, although I found a relatively recent picture of him and an old one. I’m not sure I want to know the rest of that story. I do hope to someday to have the courage to check out groups like Finvarra’s Wren and head over to Chicago for a bite of corned beef and cabbage at Chief O’Neill’s Pub. For now, I wear my small gold Claddagh around my neck and wish a wind at your back and a road to meet you
[Cheers in Gaelic and fittingly also the name of the website of the Scottish Information and Libraries Council: www.slainte.org.uk/]
When you’ve loved, let go, and loved again, sometimes it is hard to know how to feel about things so entwined with the love of your past. With the relatively recent revival of Celtic/Gaelic/Irish culture, I’m more than occasionally reminded of my former life. I always feel a little empty spot in my heart each St. Patrick’s Day. And, on that day each year, I always wear my little gold Claddagh around my neck in honor of my past.
It was during my college years that I was an honorary daughter of Erin. There is a smidge of Irish through the Neal (O’Neal) line on my mother’s side. I didn’t really know about it growing up, so I always felt left out on St. Patrick’s Day in my Irish Catholic neighborhood. I wasn’t even sure I was supposed to wear green on March 17 as I was a German Lutheran. At one time I thought I was supposed to wear orange because I was a Protestant. I love the person who coined the phrase, “Everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day!”
During the fall of my freshman year at college, some dorm mates dragged me to a pre-game breakfast at a fraternity. This impressionable music major spied a cute guy playing the hammered dulcimer in the corner. He was mostly Scottish with a wee bit o’ Irish mixed in. His major was advertising, but his true love was Celtic music. Of all the young woman swarming around in that fraternity house, he found me across the room. That combined with his interest in music caught my attention. A significant, positive, and memorable relationship began that fall day.
During the early days of our relationship, my friend introduced me to The Bothy Band, Planxty, and The Chieftans, among others. Until this time, I had only heard of the Irish Rovers and legend has it that my grandpa liked to sing, Danny Boy.
Traditional Irish music was virtually unknown to the masses and I was no exception. I was a classically trained ‘cellist and singer heavily influenced by the pop music of the day. And, in this day, U2 was barely on the charts and Sin`ead O’Connor had yet to insult the pope.
My friend played the Highland bagpipes and a little fiddle in addition to hammered dulcimer. During Christmas break, he took me to a Detroit Pipers Society meeting at the White Heather Club. It was there I first made the acquaintance of a group of musicians and friends who would play a big part of my life during my college years. Most of these people were a little older and already in the working world. They all loved to play Irish music and they were all good at their craft.
My friend became my boyfriend sometime between that Detroit Pipers Society meeting and the Detroit Irish Festival that summer. His original profession of love for me was with a bouquet of daisies and carnations delivered on March 17, 1983. The sentiment on the enclosed card was penned in Gaelic and translated as, “I love you”. It was really romantic and unexpected as we hadn’t dated or talked in weeks!
Most of our relationship was long distance. He graduated a year after we met and his career took him to Chicago the following Spring. I split my time between school, home, and visits to Chicago.
When we got together in the Detroit area, Irish music was always on the agenda. We patronized venues such as Cowleys Old Village Inn, McCarthy’s Party, Gaelic League/Irish-American Club; The Old Shillelagh, and so on. Irish festivals & Highland Games were always a staple of our dating life. If we went to a sports event or concert (classical or pop), the night was always rounded out with the ceili (jam session) of the night. Sometimes my boyfriend would join in the playing, but many times we would just sit and listen. The instrumentation would vary according to those in attendance, but usually included Uilliann pipes (Irish bagpipes), Irish flute, tin whistle, fiddle, concertina, fiddle, and bodhran. At the time, no one played Celtic harp, but now it is a huge part of the traditional Irish scene. I’m sure the absence of the harp was part of the reason for my boyfriend’s hammered dulcimer being so welcome to the circle. Highland pipes weren’t generally played in small indoor spaces, but I’ve been in a small boarding house room listening to them as well! They’re much louder in person!
To the real Irish, St. Patrick’s Day isn’t much different that any other great day for a ceili. I remember being the only one in our group who wore green one year! There are also the parades, but ironically, the Highland (Scottish) pipes are the primary parade instrument for the Celts. (After all, the Highland pipes were made for the battlefield!)
Keep in mind, this was in the early 1980s, well before The Lord of the Dance, Michael Flatly helped begin this era’s Celtic revival with Riverdance. These Celtic friends of mine were on the cutting edge. So much a part of the revival itself, Michael Flatly was part of this same scene.
The Detroit Irish scene and the Chicago Irish scene are closely connected. When my boyfriend moved from the Detroit area, he was encouraged to get in touch with the locals who were active on the Irish cultural scene in Chicago. The Flatley’s were frequently mentioned. One long weekend, I drove to Chicago with a couple of our friends to see my boyfriend and attend a wedding.
At the reception, everyone kept saying that the bride’s brother was a championship Irish dancer and kept begging him to get on the floor and dance. So here I was, sitting at a wedding reception, c. 1984 watching the bride’s brother, Michael Flatley dance with one of our friends accompanying him on Irish flute.
I took this all for granted.
Here I was in the middle of this music/dance revolution, a trained musician and I didn’t even try to join in. One of the guys really tried to encourage me and one time, I tried to play along by ear which I had never done before. I felt so silly and never tried again. For what ever reason, I just figured that I wasn’t Irish and my cello just wasn’t supposed to be part of this “party”.
Looking back, it was such a missed opportunity, regardless of my romantic relationship or heritage. Today, Irish fiddling is a part of taking violin lessons for a lot of young players. Irish fiddler Natalie McMaster is playing with the Detroit Symphony this weekend. Celtic cello is also hot and it could have been me. (Although I wouldn’t recommend combining Irish dance with cello playing as you see done with the fiddle and dance!) And, thanks to the integration of the music and dance of other cultures into shows like Riverdance, you don’t have to be Irish to be an Irish musician!
When I ended our relationship (for no good reason, actually), I broke all ties to him and his music. I don’t know if it was a rebellion against that part of my past, sad memories it invoked, or loyalty to new loves, but I quit listening to Irish music altogether. Until recently, I’ve been afraid to see Riverdance because of what it might stir in my soul.
Last year at this time, I “Googled” some old names and found this website http://www.detroitirish.org/ about the local Irish scene in Detroit. A lot of the same faces were there smiling back. Some have passed on, but the brightest part was all the kids carrying on the tradition. My friend is pretty much absent, although I found a relatively recent picture of him and an old one. I’m not sure I want to know the rest of that story. I do hope to someday to have the courage to check out groups like Finvarra’s Wren and head over to Chicago for a bite of corned beef and cabbage at Chief O’Neill’s Pub. For now, I wear my small gold Claddagh around my neck and wish a wind at your back and a road to meet you
posted by Susan at 1:38 PM
1 Comments:
A very sweet story. Thanks. Have you been busy? Haven't seen much writing.
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