Scottish Factory

By Hoosier Mom on Jan 25, 2010 | Reply

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“The American tourists kissed the Blarney Stone and they all came down with a virus,” I read. What a title for an essay! And for a fourth-grader at that…quite a challenge. But wait! No, you’re not about to hear what he came up with…instead, here’s DaDa’s (who is American Irish, never been to Ireland, to his chagrin) version, meant to be read as a bedtime story.

“Michael !! Please stop saying ‘top o’ the morning’ to everyone you meet. You’re Scottish…NOT Irish!” he announced precosciously to his DaDa’s best friend, who had accompanied them on the trip. To be sure, Michael was great fun, but surely not every other sentence could or should begin with “Top o’ the Morning to Ya!” ? Ah well, maybe things would get better when they reached the hotel.

Just then Ginny spoke up. “It says here that the hotel, which is an old, crumbly, grumbly Irish castle, is home to Bluebeard and Casper, among other celebrity ghosts. What a crock!”

“A HAUNTED castle?? But,but,but…..We booked a room at the Hilton,” sputtered Mom, who’d had about all she could take for one day and wasn’t any kind of Irish, except maybe what rubbed off on her from DaDa’s St. Patrick’s Day celebrations. “Surely a Hilton wouldn’t be housed in a real castle, nor a haunted one at that?” A few moments later, she found herself absently, helplessly responding, “A spot of tea WOULD be nice,” to the hotel clerk, who resembled a little green leprechaun more than she wanted to think about. And yes, it was a real castle, right down to the cold stone floor and eroding tapestries on the walls.

Finally (safely and soundly, she thought) sipping her tea in a surprisingly comfortable room, she almost choked when Ginny announced, “The hotel clerk reminds me of Anthony Perkins in “Psycho.” I am NOT taking a shower while we are here!!” We could faintly hear, “Funny, I thought he was green…” from Mom before Owen yelled, “Come quick!! The Cockroach From Hell is in the bathroom!!” Well usually Mom would’ve given a timeout for language at least, but she just turned a little green herself and started muttering about “authentic” Irish vacations. We heard something like “I may not be Irish but darned if they’re gonna run me out of the first international vacation I’ve ever had” or something like that. It was hard to tell ’cause she sorta said it all in one word instead of in a sentence, and she was talking very, very softly with really big eyes.

She looked like she was content to stay that way a while too, but DaDa said heartily, “How about some dinner? Pub fare sounds good – some Irish stew’ll stick to yer bones and warm ya right up!” Guess he thought Mom was cold or somethin’ instead of scared out of her mind. Mom didn’t answer, just kinda stared at him, then put her hand in his outstretched one. Without another word, not even the usual grumblings about coats and such, where we were eating and WHAT we were eating, we were out the door and on our way.

The local pub was playing music from Star Wars……VERY disappointing to the tourists from Idaho. Mom just grimaced and pretended she didn’t notice, but we could tell it was really getting on her last nerve. Mom snapped out of the blue, “Would you PLEASE speak ENGLISH !! Ohhhhh….You are…..My bad.” That’s when we really started to worry whether she’d gone right round the bend and wasn’t coming back. Even DaDa appeared startled, staring quite a bit as she appeared to be talking to a non-existent waiter. He looked pretty bleak there himself for a while, at least until the food got there. Everyone was pretty happy at that point.

Well, we went all over the next day. Mom seemed completely recovered, DaDa was speaking his version of “Americanized” Irish again, and everyone was all smiles and wonder at the amazing sights around us. Not one complaint to be had all day, with the exception our feet hurt and we wished we’d taken a nap by the time we trudged back to the hotel. As we turned onto the last little lane, more of a dirt track maybe, Mom fell. She hit her head – it looked pretty serious. Her eyes were wide open though and she said, “Casper and Bluebeard brought along friends last night. The wind howled, the lightning crashed and I’m fairly certain I saw several ghosts!!! Headless ones and skeletal ones, mummies and the newly dead. The worst thing was though, they were all wearing green and they either looked like that dude from Psycho or leprechauns, and they were laughing at my accent, my clothing (which was currently purple) and my attempts to get coffee instead of tea at a decent, civilized hotel instead of that monstrosity of a castle we got suckered into!” Here she looked at DaDa, who looked more than a little green around the gills himself. He made the “crazy” sign to us when he thought she wasn’t looking, and looked very, very sad. He’d seen the same ghosts himself last night, of course, but been up talking local history with them and getting their “statements” as he called it ’cause he thought he had a book or two in it, not to mention permanent memories of an incredible first journey to Ireland.

Mom said, “Carry me home to old Virginny !” and swooned. DaDa looked apopletic as he scooped her up and headed for the hotel at a run. “Call a doctor!” he shouted. “She’s lost it, we live in potato country. Ginny, run ahead and have them ring a doctor ’round!” For once, he wasn’t saying “Top o’ the mornin’!” to anyone. Mom winked surreptitiously at the kids, then weakly lifted her head and said, “The American tourists kissed the Blarney Stone and they all came down with a virus. Details include hallucinations and fever-induced dementia, as well as husbands who think they live, breathe and speak Irish!” The rosy-cheeked children were laughing because of course they’d been in on it the whole time.

“DaDa,” they chorused, “We haven’t actually been to Ireland yet, and that big old castle you’re so fond of is Cinderella’s Castle in Disneyland. The food was from a Disney Pub, too. You heard Star Wars music and saw ghosts ’cause we saw all those movies in the hotel on pay-per-view while you were sick. Mom wasn’t the one acting strangely, you were. Guess you won’t be buying any blarney stones from leprechauns anymore, eh?” And with that, they helped poor Mom off the ground, dusted her off, and helped DaDa to the closest bench. The fireworks started to go off for the end-of-the-day parade, but he was heard faintly to say, “It is at times like these that I realize I married an amazing woman. What she puts up with!” as he stared around and realized they were indeed in the Magic Kingdom, not Ireland. Even years later, they all giggled about it, even the children yet to be born as DaDa passed the story down to his children and grandchildren alike. “Your mother (or grandmother, as the case may be) is a very unique woman indeed,” he’d say. “She may not be Irish but she must’ve kissed the real Blarney Stone at some point, ’cause she sure is amazing! She nursed me back to health and took me on a trip to Ireland all in the same week, while handling seven children without missing a beat!”