Today (October 17th 2015) Kate and I celebrate 40 years of marriage. There are not enough superlatives in the Oxford dictionary to do her justice. Like me she is not a fan of schmaltz anyway although we both do nostalgia pretty well. As she is a budding Irish language scholar I’ll address a few words to her in the language of her O’Hart, O’Neill and O Conghaile ancestors. Mo Chait tá grá agam duit. You have been a steadfast mate for 40 years in good times and bad. You have been my saving grace. As someone has opined “Marriage is a garden, not a fruit stand; you have to tend it”. Kate always had a green thumb. A little over 40 years ago I ran into a friend William Kavanagh, a newly qualified MD, and his new wife near the Clarence Hotel down by the Liffeyside in Dublin, Ireland. We had a few pints in the bar of the hotel. When I left I was merry but definitely not three sheets to the wind. After bidding adieu to the happy couple it was my intent to set sail, to use a nautical term, for my “local” McDemott’s Pub on Leeson Street corner, a student hangout formerly known as Kirwan House. The proprietor was a returned Yank and decent skin from the west of Ireland via Philadelphia who had achieved his goal of life of running a bar in his native land. Luckily I never made my intended destination that evening. As I emerged from an alley beside the Bank of Ireland opposite Trinity College on College Green I made eye contact with a beautiful young woman with a beguiling smile and dancing green eyes. Archbishop Fulton Sheen has said that everyone has in their mind a blueprint of their beloved. All I can say to Kate, a budding Irish language scholar as herein before mentioned: Is fior é sin. Too true. To make a long story short we had an immediate tete-a-tete and I invited her for “a cup of coffee”. She agreed and I extravagantly, being a penurious law student cum law clerk, hailed a taxi and directed the driver to Brannigan’s Pub on Parnell Street where something a good deal stronger than a cup of Java was imbibed. The rest as the saying goes is our history. Forty years on we are on life’s pilgrimage together. I have one anecdote from the “olden days”. In the early years of our marriage there were lean times. Sometimes the only protein foods we could afford were eggs and beans. We had an unexpected visitor from Ireland, a former colleague and a former fellow Solicitor’s Apprentice from my Uncle Jim’s law office in Dublin. He was in the Big Apple on a business trip but flew out to Lansing for a few days to visit us and slept on a couch. Kate was a stay at home Mom at the time while I was trying to eke out a living peddling life insurance. One thing we had in the refrigerator was eggs. Kate was a veritable Picasso when it came to cooking eggs. Our guest was served various forms of egg dishes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I recall scrambled eggs, omelets, boiled eggs, fried eggs and even a quiche. Our guest was happy and proved it by buying Kate a luxury box of chocolates for her mighty culinary feats. I may have been imagining things but when our guest was bidding adieu I thought I heard him clucking like a chicken as he headed for the airport terminal. Anyway Happy Anniversary to my favorite musician, best friend and the most generous and loving wife a man could ask for. I’m blessed. We have been both blessed by two daughters who have made us proud, a fine son-in-law, and two grandchildren who are to use some Irish parlance “almighty craic”. The sayings that come out of the mouths of these babes make us smile and indeed break out laughing. When we met I was 29 and my lovely Kate 25. To me she remains young at heart and the person with the greatest sense of humor I know. I love you Kate.

Solanus Casey and "Cole" Younger.

      Venerable Solanus Casey O.F.M. CAP. and the outlaw Cole 

      Younger.

Two of my favorite "saints in waiting" are Venerable Father Solanus Casey who spent nearly 30 years in the Motor City at Saint Bonaventure's Friary on Mount Elliot  and the former radical who became a convert to Catholicism and a founder of the Catholic Workers movement; Servant of God Dorothy Day. Both had in common a love for the poor and marginalized in society . Father Solanus Casey was the son of Irish emigrants who arrived shortly after the end of An Gorta Mor or The Great Hunger in the English tongue. Dorothy Day's father was of Irish heritage although native born. Both came to lead lives of heroic virtues in the end.  The French poet Leon Bloy's comment " the greatest tragedy in life is not to have been a saint" certainly would not apply to these lovers of the poor for saints they were. Dorothy Day's autobiography The Long Loneliness is on my "to read list" and I am currently reading a biography of Father Solanus entitled Thank God Ahead of Time, The Life and Spirituality of Solanus Casey. So far it has been an enlightening read as befits a book written by a man who knew him well; Father Michael Crosby, O.F.M. CAP.

The future Father Francis Solanus Casey was born, the sixth of sixteen children, on an 80 acre farm overlooking the Mississippi River and the neighboring state of Minnesota near Prescott, Wisconsin on November 25th 1870. He was christened Bernard Joseph after his father upon his Baptism at Saint Joseph Mission Church on December 18th 1870.

Before he entered the novitiate in Detroit on Christmas Day 1896 he led a somewhat peripatetic existence .
At age 17 he left the farm to work in a series of jobs in his home state and across the river in Minnesota, working as a lumberjack, a hospital orderly, a guard in the Minnesota state prison in Stillwater, and as a street car operator in Superior, Wisconsin. When my wife Kate and I took a swing out west to the Black Hills of South Dakota, Sundance,Wyoming, and the site of Custer's Last Stand on the Little Big Horn River in Montana, we decided to return via US 2 . The western segment runs from Everett, Washington to Saint Ignace, in Michigan's Upper Peninsula but it runs through Superior, Wisconsin across the Richard I. Bong Bridge from Duluth, Minnesota. We had intended spending the night in Duluth but the hotels were full so we stayed in Superior on that Saturday, returning back across the bridge the following morning for Mass and a bit of sightseeing. At the time I was unaware that in the past the then Bernard Joseph "Barney" Casey and his family had sold their farm and had gone to live in Superior and also that this same city  was the last port of call for the ill fated Edmund Fitzgerald.
 At one time Barney Casey had a shine on a 17 year old girl Rebecca Tobin and wanted to ask for her hand in marriage but her mother would have none of it and sent Rebecca off to boarding school. Barney never saw her again. As a youth Barney Casey had learned to play the fiddle and knew the popular dance tunes. While his playing was just passable he did so with energy and he and his fiddle were welcome guests at any party. Barney had worked as a prison guard at the penitentiary in Stillwater, Minnesota which brings us to his connection with Cole Younger, the sidekick of Jesse James.

Cole Younger was Thomas Coleman Younger, a former captain in the Confederate army and later a member of the James-Younger gang. After being wounded and captured during the infamous Northfield Bank on September 7^th 1876 raid he was imprisoned in Stillwater Penitemtiary and served 25 years of a life sentance before being paroled in 1901 along with his brother Jim who shortly thereafter committed suicide in a St Paul, Minnesota hotel. Cole Younger gave up his career as an outlaw and along with Frank James later joined a wild west show. He repented of his outlaw past when he found religion. During his time in the hoosegow he was befriended by Barney Casey, the future Venerable Solanus and gave Barney a clothes trunk, a handy piece of luggage which Barney probably took with him as he went on his trek to Saint Bonaventure Friary in Detroit to join the Franciscan Capuchin order. One would like to think that Barney Casey had an influence on Cole Younger. Certainly the old outlaw from a well to do family who had been an officer in the Confederate Army, a guerrilla fighter  with the infamous Quantrill's Raiders, and a member of the notorious James-Younger outlaw gang later amended his ways and died with his boots on.  Barney Casey would become in due course Father Solanus Casey, the friend of the poor and the downtrodden. I first made a visit to his tomb at St. Bonaventure's some years ago with a good friend, the late Jane McAuliffe, RIP, from Knocknagoshel, County Kerry along with a group from Saint Therese Parish in Lansing. Since then Kate and I have visited again and always found it to be a place of peace. There is no doubt in my mind that one day the venerable Solanus Casey will be canonized as a saint. "For Solanus," Father Crosby writes, "knowing God demanded a threefold response: appreciation, love and service. Solanus wrote that everyone's purpose as a rational creature is to recognize and to know his Creator, so as to be able, intelligently to love Him, confidently to hope in Him, and gratefully to serve Him" Great words to live by for sure.

Kent Homecoming courtesy of "The Gathering 2013"

Kate with Killiney Bay and the Sugarloaf in the background. In 1975 while we were courting we climbed the Sugarloaf.

Standing at the threshold of Donore Hills graveyard in the Boyne Valley, County Meath. Kate's 6 times great grandfather Luke Connolly is interred here as can be verified by the records of Slane Historical Society. Kate's first cousin several times removed was born in Slane. He was Bishop John Connolly OP, first de facto Roman Catholic Bishop of New York.

Myself, my only surviving brother John and his wife Bernadette outside Schull, Co Cork en route to Bantry.

                         THE GATHERING TRIP APRIL 2013.

        

I must confess I did not become aware of “The Gathering” until the early Fall of 2012 when I was watching TV as my favorite college gridiron team Notre Dame duked it out with Navy at the Aviva Stadium in my hometown  Dublin. During the telecast commercials referring to “The Gathering” were being shown during breaks in the action. A day or two later when surfing the web I came across an invitation on “The Gathering” site to enter a competition with the prize being a trip for four to Ireland for the 2013 "Gathering". To enter the competition one was asked merely to pen in 300 words or so why one should be invited over for the "Gathering". I gave a brief synopsis of how and where I met the lovely lass who was to became my wife and anam cara(soulmate) and told about my interest in tracing my wife's Irish ancestors. To further elaborate,  the story begins in the late winter of 1975 outside the Bank of Ireland on College Green after an afternoon of carousing.  I was supposed to take a law exam that morning but had mistakenly thought the exam was in the afternoon and had arrived at an empty examination hall where I was informed that the test had been given that morning. Obviously I was chagrined to put it mildly and decidedly unhappy with myself for getting the exam time wrong. I had really been cramming for the test. After I left the examination venue I bumped into a family friend and his new wife. We retired to a quayside hotel bar, the name of which the march of time has eliminated from memory, and had some frothy libations which helped me forget my woes after a while. When I bid adieu to my friend and his wife I headed towards the "corner" at Leeson Street via the Bank of Ireland whereupon I first set eyes on the attractive green eyed American  girl with whom fate had ordained I was to fall in love  and to wed later that year. Our eyes met moments after I had staggered out of an alley next to the venerable Bank of Ireland edifice on College Green and I said hello. She was very friendly and we engaged in conversation. I invited her for a cup of coffee and when she accepted the invitation I  hailed a taxi with alacrity and directed the driver to drop us at a pub then known as "Brannigan's" on Parnell Street where the cup of coffee was soon forgotten and some stronger beverages were enjoyed. Kate proved to be a wonderful drinking companion and delightful company. I mentioned my first encounter with her  in my competition entry along with the fact that as a keen genealogist and amateur historian I had traced her father’s family roots back to County Roscommon. Her maiden name was Kate Conley, with Conley being one of the many Anglicized variations of the Irish name O Conghaile. At the  moment I first set eyes on her, I was as previously related, en route to O’Dwyers Pub on the renowned "corner" of Leeson Street to meet up with some of my student comrades.  The Goddess of Fate had intervened and I thank my lucky stars for that. Kate has stood by me through the rough and the smooth times for 38 years. Thankfully I had made a good recovery from severe health setbacks and two major surgeries in recent years and we felt ready for a trip back to my native land . We have been blessed with two lovely daughters Siobhán and Mary Brigid. Mary Brigid or Bridie as we call her is married to Bill Bereza, a recent law school graduate, and they live in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Through them  we have a grandson Oisín who has given us great delight and we are looking forward to meeting his little sister and our  new granddaughter when she arrives on the world's stage later this merry month of May. Bridie and Bill have decided on the name Maeve for her, after the legendary Queen of Connacht  .

When I submitted my entry I truthfully gave it no further thought. A good friend of mine from Derry, had been hospitalized for a second time in a short span of time and passed away shortly after his admission on October 8th 2012. We had been good friends since his arrival in the United States almost 35 years ago.Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam. Shortly after this very sad loss for his family and many friends I found out that I was the lucky winner of "The Gathering" competition.  I was naturally ecstatic, never having won anything of this significance in a lifetime. It was an easy decision to ask my late friend’s widow Pat to come to Ireland along with  her designated fellow traveler, her sister Eileen Malone. Pat had first met her future Irish born spouse James in Durty Nelly’s Pub in Bunratty, County Clare when she was over as a tourist in 1977. She is a native Michigander with Irish roots . Another sister of Pat’s Edna and her husband Jim, friends of ours also, booked flights on the same Aer Lingus flight from Chicago to Dublin  so we had great company for our homecoming journey. Having been pre-booked into hotels of our choosing in Dublin, Athlone, Castlebar and Inniscrone, County Sligo for the seven days generously paid for by “The Gathering” we were ready to enjoy Ireland. We had arranged to stay almost 3 weeks since Kate and I along with Pat and Eileen had relatives and in-laws to visit after the seven days taken care of by the Gathering prize. After Inniscrone Kate and I said our good byes to Pat, Eileen, Edna and Jim. During our seven days together we did pack in a lot of sightseeing highlighted by visits to Kilmainham Gaol, Joyce’s Tower in Sandycove, Clonmacnoise, Athlone Castle, the Deserted Famine Village on Achill, the Neolithic field system and soon to be UNESCO world heritage site at Ceide Fields on the coast of North Mayo as well as some delightful pubs and eating places. For our good friend Pat a sentimental side trip to Durty Nelly’s in Bunratty had to be on the agenda albeit bittersweet. Luckily the day we visited there were three dolphins cavorting in the tidal river outside Durty Nelly’s. This had drawn hundreds of onlookers to the village and I’m sure the local businesses benefited particularly Durty Nelly’s.

When Kate and I first became acquainted my father was living in Balbriggan, County Dublin and I had taken Kate down several times. The first time stands out. My father made her a boiled egg for breakfast and placed it in an egg cup as is usual in Ireland. This practice unbeknownst to myself and my father was not prevalent in Kate's home state of Michigan. She removed the egg from the cup and proceeded to crack it open with a spoon which bemused my father and amused me. My father in later years  sold the residence in Balbriggan to the Irish rugby international Johnny Fortune and moved to Naas. While we were back recently for the Gathering trip we spent a night at the Bracken Hotel in Balbriggan since we had been visiting the nearby Donore Hills graveyard looking for the gravestone of Kate's 6 times great grandfather Luke Conoly. After an evening meal in the hotel we decided to dander up to my father's old house. Kate took a photograph and since darkness had descended the camera flash drew the attention of Johnny Fortune's son-in-law who emerged from the house. I told him that I had lived in the house some years ago. He was a friendly sort and invited us both in to meet the owner Johnny Fortune, his wife, and his daughter. We had a nice time visiting with  the Fortunes, their daughter and son-in-law. We were served cups of tea and apple tart a la mode.The Fortunes were a great advertisement for Irish hospitality and if you will excuse the pun it was our good fortune to be a recipient of this hospitality. Johnny scored a famous try, as touchdowns are called in Rugby Football ,against the New Zealand All Blacks in 1963 when Ireland led 5-3 until the referee awarded the visitors a disputed penalty which unfortunately was goaled by the great Don Clarke and gave the men from the land of the long white cloud the victory 6-5. A photograph of Johnny's touchdown hangs on the wall in his home.

We worked with Amanda Kavanagh and Anne-Marie Taylor in making our "homecoming" arrangements and both have been a joy to work with and very kind. "The Gathering" are well served by these two lovely ladies. We are grateful to "The Gathering" for the prize and making all the flight and hotel arrangements. It meant the world to Kate and myself and also to our friends Pat and Eileen to visit Ireland at this particular time. Go raibh mile maith agaibh Amanda, Anne-Marie and all involved at the "Gathering".

Green Butter and Pink Butter Sandwiches. Yum Yum!

Green Butter and Pink Butter Sandwiches. Yum Yum!

I guess the above title for this particular vignette of a boyhood in the 1950s, growing up at Wyckham Park,outside Dundrum Village in the shadow of the Dublin Mountains, is as relevant as others that come to mind. My bespectacled friend Dennis Cahalane or "Caha" as we dubbed him made his family's house and garden a welcome rendezvous for our gang which included myself, my brothers John and Eddie, the Kennys, the Henseys, the Higgins lads and other chaps mentioned in previous scéalta. Dennis's mother Evelyn was a Mayo woman who was a close relative, perhaps a sibling, of Eamonn Mongey the great Mayo Gaelic football star who played midfield and center half back on the great 1950/1951 Mayo teams which won  All Ireland Gaelic Football Championships back to back. Sad to say Mayo have not won the Sam Maguire Cup since then although they were in this year's final losing to Donegal.  In later years I would run into Eamonn Mongey in his capacity as Probate Registrar in Dublin's Four Courts while I was a solicitor's(lawyer's) apprentice with my Uncle Jim who was in practice at 18 Saint Andrew Street, Dublin. My wife Kate also worked for my Uncle Jim briefly prior to our marriage in the United States. Eamonn Mongey passed away in 2007 after a distinguished career in public service. But I digress. Dennis's father was from Cork and a captain in the Irish Army. He had two sisters. Sheila was the eldest and the name of the "young wan" escapes me although Denise seems to ring a bell. In addition there was a cat known as "Bobby Socks" Cahalane who resided with the family and whose litter box was in the garage. This pompous feline had it's own special swinging door built into the back door of the garage where it could come and go as it pleased. It was  Dennis's back yard which provided the main venue for the impromptu Wyckham Park "Olympics" which we organized one year. Without wishing to appear boastful this was my brainchild fueled by a love of chocolate bars and other sweetshop goodies. Money would be collected from all the participants in advance, delectable sweets such as Cadbury's Chocolate, Crunchies, Aero Bars, Smarties and the like would be purchased with the proceeds, and these would serve as prizes for the various events such as the mile run, sprints, long jump, high jump, and triple jump which we included in our "Olympiad". I was at this stage the top runner in Wyckham Park and a decent jumper so I made out like a bandit winning the lion's share of the aforementioned goodies. John and Eddie no doubt were beneficiaries of my winnings too.

My friend "Caha" went to the same Jesuit preparatory school as I did: Gonzaga College on Sandford Road, Ranelagh, Dublin. He was a class behind me. We would travel to school together on occasion taking the 48A bus. As I recall the bus stop was outside his front door on the Ballinteer Road . The game of importance at Gonzaga College was Rugby and I took to it like a duck to water. It was my favorite sport ranking just above running for me. I did like most other sports too but they paled in comparison to those I mentioned in my estimation although in later years after we had moved to Thurles, County Tipperary, I regretted the fact that I had not taken up Hurling earlier. In order to become proficient in this sport it helps to be born in a hotbed of this great sport like Tipperary where children pick up the camán shortly after they learn to walk. In my view Hurling and Rugby Union are the two best field games to play and watch. In Gonzaga I played on the successive underage Rugby teams, usually as center threequarter, from the under 8s through to the under 12s before our family moved to Thurles and Rugby became no longer an option. Our opponents in these matches included St Mary's, Willow Park, De La Salle Churchtown, St. Conleth's and Belvedere. A player who joined our team after I had been there a few years Con Feighery later played for Ireland as did his older brother Tom. The Feigherys lived on a farm in Dunboyne, Co. Meath, so they had a long commute to school each day. Later they moved to another Jesuit school Clongowes Wood College in County Kildare. A class or two ahead of me was the late Barry Bresnihan who became an Irish and Lions rugby star as well as a world renowned rheumatologist who treated my sister Anne in later years.  My father Gerry , sister Geraldine and perhaps my eldest sister Anne would come to some of the weekend matches to watch me play. We played against other school teams or practiced on Wednesdays and  Saturdays when we had  half days. One of our coaches Father O'Connell was in the mold of Vince Lombardi and would chew out ball hogs like Dennis Quilligan during practice sessions. Quilligan played scrum half and was oblivious to the fact that there were six other members of the backfield waiting for him to pass the ball. During class Father O'Connell rather than teaching us whatever subject he was supposed to  would have those on the rugby team gather around the board while he diagrammed rugby tactics on the blackboard. Talk about your Xs and Os; this man was a fanatic. The non rugby players would be told to study their books. Another priest who coached us would write a report of the previous inter school match and when he lauded your performance in writing and placed the report in the lunch room for all to see one would beam with pride. One time during practice Tony O'Reilly, the famous Ireland and Lions Wing threequarter and one of our heroes was invited in to give us a few tips. We paid rapt attention to the great Tony. The Jesuits were great encouragers to be sure whether in  academics or sports. Our school motto was Ad maiorem Dei gloriam  which means "to the greater glory of God". All the teachers that I remember were Jesuit priests with one exception: Signor Volpi, a short squat temperamental Italian, who taught us French. I remember the textbooks used En Marche (Cours de Francais I and II) by E. Saxelby. The books related the goings on of the Lepine family. One character in the book was named Toto but I cannot remember if this was a young lad or a family dog. The other sports played at Gonzaga were cricket in the summer and tennis. Neither game was to my liking but I did compete in the school sports and won prizes in the 100 yards and 220 yard dashes. Unfortunately one time the prizes I won were a cricket bat and a cricket ball. As mentioned cricket was not a game to my taste but to my mind any sport is better than none at all so I did make use of the bat and ball in Wyckham Park for a time during the summers.
Gonzaga College was on the same grounds as Milltown Park, a Jesuit training college and outside one of the school gates  was another Jesuit  institution then known as the Catholic Workers College.Taking classes there was Dennis Larkin, a son of the great James Larkin, General Secretary of the Workers Union of Ireland. This union had in its earlier days been affiliated with the pro-Soviet Red International of Labor Unions but had  entered the mainstream of the Irish Trade Union movement in the 1930s. During my time at Gonzaga my uncle Father Edmond Kent S.J. was rector of the Catholic Workers College. Subsequently the name was changed to the College of Industrial Relations.

                                         

Gonzaga College Building.

 

The years at Gonzaga were enjoyable. Academics for me were regulated to the sideline and sport and the craic were uppermost in my mind at this time. Apart from "Caha", schoolmates I remember were Michael Laffan, Adrian Kenny, Finnbarr Lloyd, John Murphy, Richard Rice, Dermot O'Brien, Alexis Fitzgerald, Esmonde Smythe, Brian Ruttledge, Stephen and Alphonses O'Mara, Michael Algar and Peter Deevey. I must have been one of the youngest in the class since lads in the class below me like Peter Sutherland, Conor Feighery , Dennis Quilligan and Gareth Sheehan were on the same underage rugby teams as I was. At least that is my recollection. I remember Richard Rice at age 9 or 10 having running spikes when the rest of us were running in bare feet or tennis shoes. Richard was a serious runner and fast enough too. A good friend was Finnbarr Lloyd who sadly passed away a few years ago while at a horse racing meet in the Philippines.  One of the kudos of being a schoolboy in Gonzaga was the availability of cheap season tickets to all Leinster branch rugby games both schools and club games. International match tickets for schoolboys were also readily available and I and "Caha" availed of the opportunity to get our paws on these. One game I can remember well is Ireland v. France in 1955. The great Jean Prat, a wing forward, from the Lourdes club was the pillar of the French team which won 5-3 that day. Other French stars were  Michel Vannier, the full back, and Maurice Prat, a brother of Jean in the center. Included in  the Irish team were the great Jack Kyle, his cousin Noel Henderson, Tony O'Reilly, John O'Meara, Jim McCarthy, Marney Cunningham, and A.C. Pedlow. "Caha" and me were  in the standing room terrace behind the goalposts at the Landsdowne Road end of the ground among some vociferous Frenchmen in red berets who appeared to have some strong drink taken and were in high spirits. We enjoyed their good humored carry on . On the way into the ground there was a mighty throng of rugby fans and the crush was such that we were a little panicky. I remember "Caha's" spectacles were almost falling from his head as the throng moved towards the stadium entrance with "Caha" actually lifted off the ground by the crowd.  He could not raise his hands to put his eyeglasses straight but in the heel of the hunt he was able to keep them on  and to see the match. "Caha" without his glasses would have been a veritable Mr Magoo. A year before we were in the same predicament for the Ireland v. Wales game when we saw the crowd behind us part to make way for a black limousine. We heard someone opine " It is the old shite himself". When the limousine drew level with us we could see a ramrod straight individual with thick glasses looking straight ahead and sure enough it was De Valera, who was Taoiseach(Prime Minister) at the time. In 1956 we saw the great Jack Kyle play what I think was his last game for Ireland when Wales were beaten 11-6. Kyle dropped a great goal from 45 yards out at an acute angle that day. "Caha" and I were in our usual spot behind the goalposts that day. Beside us were some drunken Welshman shouting " Come on the bloody onions!". Later we understood they were referring to the Welsh team whose emblem was an onion relative: the leek. The banter on the terrace added greatly to the occasion.

                 " Before the match was over, before the whistle blew

                    Henderson got the ball and up the wing he flew

                    He passed the ball to O'Reilly and O'Reilly brought it through

                    and that was the great defeat of the bloody English crew"

The legendary half back Doctor Jack Kyle runs at Wales. Kyle was voted Irish player of the 20th Century and is a member of the International Rugby Hall of Fame. 

Two Jesuits who I fondly recall during the few years I spent there were Father Leahy and Father Seán Hutchinson. The former priest taught us Geography in my first year there as an 8 year old. My classmates for some strange reason found the names of two African Rivers: the Limpopo and the Zambezi absolutely hilarious. When Father Leahy mentioned these rivers one of us would start chanting:

          

“The Limpopo, the Limpopo, the Limpopo,

 The Zambezi, the Zambezi, the Zambezi”

Father Leahy would try to suppress a grin which would only encourage us to keep up the crazy chant. Eventually order would be restored. Father Leahy was a new Jesuit and perhaps we took advantage of him but he kept his good humor. Fair play to  him. Father Seán Hutchinson came to Gonzaga from another Jesuit School Coláiste Iognáid in Galway where instruction was through the medium of the Irish language. He taught Irish and was our singing teacher or rather choirmaster. A lady would play the piano and the inimitable Father Seán would lead us in belting out patriotic songs such as :A Nation Once Again, O'Donnell Abú, Kelly of Killane, the Bold Fenian Men, Kevin Barry, The Mountains of Pomeroy, On Carrighdoun, Boolavogue and many more including songs as Gaeilge such as Cill Cais, Maidrín Ruadh, and Trasna na dtonnta. We may not have been the Vienna Boys Choir but we had fun and sang with gusto. One of his expressions was "Tá mé ar buile libhse" which can be translated as "I'm mad at ye". This would be said with a smile on his face when we maybe became a little inattentive . There was not a mean bone in his body and he was a very witty and good humored priest. He certainly contributed greatly to the enjoyment of my time at Gonzaga College. Other Jesuits teaching at the school back then were a Father Redmond, Father Willie White and our rector Father Charles O'Conor Don who was Chief of the Name of the Clan Ó Conchubhair, titular Prince of Connacht and senior descendant of the last High King of Ireland, Ruairí Ó Conhubhair(O'Conor) who died in 1198 AD.

To get back to the title of this vignette we must return to the Cahalane household. When Dennis's birthday would come around there would be a small party for him at his house with his friends in Wyckham Park invited. Mrs Cahalane would invariably make macaroons with a maraschino cherry adorning the top. I  did not find these too desirable but did go for her piece de resistance which were green and pink butter sandwiches. But for the food coloring used which was in actuality without taste we were eating bread and butter which was a staple back then for all of us. The color lent an exotic touch to the bread and butter. Though there was no discernible difference in taste Mrs Cahalane would ask us whether we wanted a green butter or pink butter sandwich. We invariably sampled both since "variety" was the spice of life. Haute Cuisine could be counted on for a "Caha" party. There are more stories to be told of our days in Wyckham Park, Dundrum in County Dublin but my pen or rather my middle finger on my right hand must go into recovery mode for now. More anon.