MY IRISH DIARIES (1): “Travels Through Ireland, North & South: Forward/Just DO IT” (by KPKeelan)

.

In my lucky life, I’ve managed to cross the big wet pond to visit Ireland 14 times. Halfway through the first trip I knew there was a book in it. I hope you agree. This serialized manuscript covers my first two Irish sojourns, laying the foundation for a lifetime of Celtic adoration. I had the rare foresight to scribble a freewheeling diary while these wonderful adventures were unfolding, giving me rich source material to draw from and accounting for the occasionally embarrassing confessional. Come along for the ride, in 171 daily chapters!

*

“Forward”

> Erin go bragh!

The first segment of this compendium of misadventure covers the events, impressions and feelings of seventeen quick but heavenly days in the early autumn of 1993. This part is as much romance as travelogue, because I had the distinct good fortune to fall in love with a country and a woman at the same time- the best of all possible worlds. Because of this, the reader should be warned that it gets all gooey and thick with equal parts triumph and self-pity, as romances are wont to do, you know- smothered in all that hormonal ‘love’ stuff. The reader should be further cautioned that in addition to the spicy bits that dot the segment, there is also a frank retelling of illicit drug use- some might say ab-use. I would not attempt to condone, or would I vilify drug use. It just was. It happened, so I am obliged to make it part of the story. After all, my only storytelling maxim is to Strive to tell the absolute truth, absolutely… to the best of my puny ability as a human warts and all. Sometimes the warts are the most interesting parts!

The second, much longer segment recounts the highlights of an entire summer spent fruitfully immersing myself in the Irish culture and performing for often flummoxed Irish audiences. Three miraculous months in the middle of 1994 encompassed the beginnings of my real Irish education. Unfortunately, there is no sex whatsoever in Part 2- and no actual drug use, though the opportunity arose- but each tale in its place, I say.

I hope it’s fun to read. It was fun to live. Life is cool. I suggest life.

*

“Just DO IT”

> Long before I ever went to Ireland, I was drawn there- captivated by the lure and lore of the oft-rhapsodized Emerald Isle, splendiferously carpeted by forty shades of glimmering green- one for each of the forty original counties.

I was fascinated by the paradox of Ireland: ancient enigma and modern miracle. So far, I’ve spent about twenty-one weeks of my life investigating the mystery and irony of this magical isle, jutting defiantly from the icy waters of the North Atlantic- and I don’t feel any closer to understanding it than the day I first set foot on Irish soil.

It was 1993 when I made this, the second important pilgrimage of my life. The first major journey happened in 1959. My family was migrating westward from Pennsylvania to the enticing promise of the Golden State. mom tells me that I wandered the aisles charming the friendly voyagers with my proud boasts: “I not French-I IRISH!” Even at three years old, I recognized this as something special. (Turns out, I was only part Irish really- on my father’s side, German on my mother’s.) The story says, that my father’s-father and his two brothers emigrated from County Armagh as O’Keelan, but upon disembarking from the ship and seeing all the signs barking NO IRISH NEED APPLY, they discreetly dropped the O. If this is true, I doubt this transparent subterfuge fooled anyone.

But now, after a childhood spent gazing lovingly at 3-D View Master pictures of the enchanted island, after a lifetime of absorbing the American bastardization of Irish icons, after a week of sleepless nights, I was finally going to see for myself. As the plane touched down, I was drowned in a bewildering flush of powerful emotion that quite stunned me. Stepping onto the tarmac at Shannon airport, I beamed with rapture and enthusiasm for the adventures soon to come.

Thirteen years! Had it really been over decade since my mother and her husband had retired there? It was in the early eighties that Arline and Paul Liley bought a cozy cottage in southwestern County Cork- near the tranquil village of Glengarriff, roughly translated from the Gaelic as “hidden glen”, an idyllic spot with a prime view of exquisite Bantry Bay. They christened their new home Toad Hall, after the splendid abode of amphibian-hero Mr. Toad in Kenneth Graham’s classic whimsy, Wind in the Willows, living there quite happily for many years without visits from me or any of my four siblings. Once I found out what I was missing, I couldn’t help but wonder what my damn problem was! Why had I procrastinated so? Oh, we Keelan kids were full of good excuses for not having yet made the journey: we were too busy- too disempowered, lacking vision, drowned by the overburdening responsibilities that life throws at you- too bottom-of-the-barrel piss-poor to purchase the tickets. We had dozens of reasons- lame excuses really. Clearly, we had been listening to our heads, and not our hearts. While we concocted bad new excuses, more than a decade passed us by.

It always amazed me how many kids I met, fresh from their education, mother’s milk still wet on their lips, and without two coins to rub together- who somehow managed to roam Europe and the world on amazing excursions. I knew these people. They were all but penniless. How did they do it? What was their secret? In retrospect, I think it was sheer desire that made their impossible journeys possible- the blessing of naiveté. They just didn’t know it wasn’t possible. They didn’t care. The fervent, tangible desire to BE in all those magical places they had seen in movies and TV and View Master discs, was simply more powerful that the fear or doubt that holds so many of us adults in jobs we hate, towns that have grown too-familiar, lives we feel disconnected with. “No” and “Can’t” were just not a part of their vocabulary. From their experience, and a lifetime strapped to the tarot’s spinning Wheel of Fortune, I decided that if one has the courage to want something badly enough, though one runs the risk of disappointment- one plays the roulette wheel of chance, where Magic is not impossible.

– Excuses are easy. As the ad-campaign suggests: just DO IT…

Next up: An introduction to Ireland, in: “Preconceptions”

*  *  *

© Kevin Paul Keelan and lastcre8iveiconoclast, 2024. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Kevin Paul Keelan and lastcre8iveiconoclast with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.