Songs, Stories & Shenanigans, Podcast6: In My Father’s House First and foremost, Happy Father’s Day to all the dad’s and acting as Dad’s out there. It is not the title that gets the happy, it is the action’s that you exhibit – the things you do when no one is watching, that makes me send the sentiments. I don’t have any kids myself; it hurts, especially at Christmas and family gatherings. I squeeze what joy I can out of my 25 nieces and nephews, when they let me. I thank you for everything you do, noticed and not, to make this big wide world, a better place. Father’s Day took a long time to become an official holiday in the United States. The first Father’s Day was celebrated on June 19, 1910 in Spokane, Washington. In 1924, United States President Calvin Coolidge recommended the day as a national holiday. In 1966, President Lyndon Johnson made a proclamation for a day to celebrate fathers and declared that an official Father’s Day be held every year on the third Sunday in June. In 1972, President Richard Nixon made the proclamation a law. While the holiday originated in the United States, other countries, including Ireland, have adopted the celebration. I asked my dad if he would take me to the zoo? He answered, 'If the zoo wants you, let them come and get you.' So Happy Father’s Day to those who live out all that being a father to someone means. Then, personally, I offer Congratulations to John & Eileen O’Brien, my parents, celebrating their 60thWedding Anniversary tomorrow. How they raised 4 kids, sent them all to Catholic grade school, HS and college, I will never know. We were and are so blessed for their love, self-sacrifice and guidance, instilling love for each other, values, volunteerism, pride in heritage and pride in America and being American, as well as awareness of just how blessed we are. Imagine leaving your home, your country, often having never seen a building taller than a few stories, then going to Canada, America or where ever you landed, only for want of a job, any job, and some food. Just wanting a chance to make your own way. My dad was not the oldest son; he knew he would not get the farm.Many, many of my friends have lived the song, My Grandfather’s Immigrant Eyes, with their own fathers or grandfathers. To a lesser degree, I did with my own dad, who emigrated in 1956. The isle of tears in the song refers to is Ellis Island. It was written by Guy Clark For me, my favorite singer of this song is Alec DeGabriele, of The New Barleycorn. Here is an excerpt: My Grandfather’s Immigrant Eyes Oh, Ellis Island was swarming Like a scene from a costume ball, Decked out in the colors of Europe, And on fire with the hope of it all. There my father's own father stood huddled With the tired and hungry and scared, Turn of the century pilgrims, Bound by the dream that they shared. They were standing in lines just like cattle, Poked and sorted and shoved. Some were one desk away from sweet freedom. Some were torn from someone they loved, Through this sprawling tower of Babel Came a young man confused and alone, Determined and bound for America, And carryin' everything that he owned. Sometimes, when I look in my grandfather's immigrant eyes, I see that day reflected and I can't hold my feelings inside. I see starting with nothing and working hard all of his life, Don't take it for granted, your grandfather's immigrant eyes. I never knew my grandfather’s, on either side. My dad’s dad died when he was 2. My Mom’s dad died before I was born. These lessons from my parents have lasted for all of us kids, and their 25 grandkids, my nieces and nephews, with a life of living for others. We arise each day knowing that each day, we exchange 1 day of our life, for SOMETHING; make it be worthwhile O Lord. At the end of that day, when we look back, did we make our world better, that day? To me, it is amazing to think, we started in America with just my folks. They met in Montreal after my dad emigrated there from Ireland in 1956. They married in 1960, and had 4 kids, 2 in Montreal, and two in America. We grew up not having any relations in the U.S., when our friends were meeting cousins at seemingly every gathering or pub. Now, our 6 pak has become nearly 3 cases full, in what seems like just a few years, though it is actually six decades, and 3 generations. The grandkids are learning so much from my folks too – we were all raised in houses were volunteerism is a natural, given, right thing to do. I hear my dad’s voice, in their shouts. I see my mom’s ready laughter, and always the singing, the helping, when I gather round my sister’s dinner tables, when I am so lucky as to visit them. I love the song, In My Father’s House. I first heard it sung on Joanie Madden’s Folk & Irish Cruise, in a mad late session in some corner of the ship. I don’t know the young woman’s name who sang it, but I still recall her ...
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Jun 19 202018 min
14 min