As I got older, my mother developed this obsession with Ireland (focused around Leon Uris and U2 music) and due to this and her alcoholism, SPD became a BIG DEAL at our house. Mom would always start talking about the party mid-April, figure out which of her friends was speaking to her at the time, argue with whatever her current husband had to say in the matter, and then go buy lots of alcohol.
When Mom was being slightly more responsible, the party would happen on whatever weekend was closest to the holiday. During the years when responsibility wasn't such a priority, the party happened on SPD, no matter what day of the week that happened to be. Mom would get up early and start cooking things, corned beef and potatoes and whatever else she decided to do. As soon as she was cooking, she was drinking. So I guess you could say the party started then.
Everyone else would arrive around two (or whenever they got off work on those less responsible years). More drinking would happen and eating would go on. Most of my mom's friends were into Irish stuff too, or would pretend to be. Okay, there was usually some idiot jackass new boyfriend or something who would make idiot jackass comments and Mom would scream at him ALL of Irish history. That was fun. But not as fun as the next stage in the party.
Somewhere, only perhaps St. Bono and St. Patrick know where, my mom obtained this collection of Irish folk songs on vinyl. I can say for a fact there had to have been at least 35 million songs on those albums. Quite drunk by this point, Mom would gather everyone around her old beat up record player and announce that we were now going to sing with the songs.
You need to keep certain things in mind here.
- Most everyone here was drunk.
- Basically no one knew these songs, but that hardly mattered because:
- Damned near everyone of them was in Gaelic.
None of these facts mattered to Mom though. We were to sing. And she was drunk, very drunk, and had a temper. And it was her party.
So the first album would be put on, happy pipes and other Irish sounds would begin. Someone would start singing and in the room around me, all the drunken adults, myself, and my little brother, would begin to sing as well. As much as we could.
When I was a teenager, I started listening to the Cocteau Twins (of course) and in Elizabeth Fraser's vocals, I found what my mom's parties were like. Jumbled, nonsensical sounds that had the potential to be words, but really weren't. Something like, "Hounga bounga wounga taygee. Shuba wanka walla kaybee."
As we would sing, Mom would talk about significant points of Irish history. Then she would sing with us. Because there were so many drunk people in the room, half the time, people would start dancing as they sing nonsensical things.
In the midst of this one year, I noticed the dogs were watching us from the hallway. Mom always had dogs and during parties, they tended to just fend for themselves. As people sang and danced and Mom educated us, I noticed that one of the dogs cocked her head to one side and looked at us as if to say, "Okay, whatever the humans are doing, it has to be the bested and funnest thing ever. Because they look like fools and seem perfectly happy about it."
The dogs joined in after a while, bouncing from person to person and howling as we sang our nonsense. However, I like to believe the dogs felt they were missing some key element to truly understand the abandon around them. They thought it was a joyful thing. Sometimes, it's great to be so innocent.
So the first album would be put on, happy pipes and other Irish sounds would begin. Someone would start singing and in the room around me, all the drunken adults, myself, and my little brother, would begin to sing as well. As much as we could.
When I was a teenager, I started listening to the Cocteau Twins (of course) and in Elizabeth Fraser's vocals, I found what my mom's parties were like. Jumbled, nonsensical sounds that had the potential to be words, but really weren't. Something like, "Hounga bounga wounga taygee. Shuba wanka walla kaybee."
As we would sing, Mom would talk about significant points of Irish history. Then she would sing with us. Because there were so many drunk people in the room, half the time, people would start dancing as they sing nonsensical things.
In the midst of this one year, I noticed the dogs were watching us from the hallway. Mom always had dogs and during parties, they tended to just fend for themselves. As people sang and danced and Mom educated us, I noticed that one of the dogs cocked her head to one side and looked at us as if to say, "Okay, whatever the humans are doing, it has to be the bested and funnest thing ever. Because they look like fools and seem perfectly happy about it."
The dogs joined in after a while, bouncing from person to person and howling as we sang our nonsense. However, I like to believe the dogs felt they were missing some key element to truly understand the abandon around them. They thought it was a joyful thing. Sometimes, it's great to be so innocent.
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