May those who love us, love us;
And for those who don’t love us,
May God turn their hearts;
And if He doesn’t turn their hearts,
May He turn their ankles,
So we will know them by their limping.
-An Old Irish Curse
This Sunday many people around the world will celebrate the life of a 5th Century Irish missionary and bishop known by names such as Padraig, Patricius, and most commonly, Patrick. Folks will wear buttons that say, “Kiss Me I’m Irish,” attend parades in major cities, and partake in a variety of food and drinks—well, except Italians. One of the greatest tee shirts made in recent years plainly states, “Everybody is a little Irish on St. Patrick’s Day except Italians. We are still Italian.” Ironic seeing as Patrick was himself a Roman citizen.
For those who find themselves in the company of someone from the old sod, here is a list of terms and phrases that will help you appreciate and understand what these unique souls are saying, and avoid making you look like an amadan—Irish for “fool.”
You’ll Love the Craic.
Though pronounced the same way as the illegal narcotic, craic is a term used by the Irish to describe the fun, carrying on, laughter, stories, and overall enjoyable atmosphere of a social gathering. I remember moments after landing in Dublin for the first time the old man sitting next to me on the plane leaning over and saying, “Welcome to Ireland lad, you’ll love the craic here!” To which I remember thinking, uh……no. Well, that first day—after learning what the Irish variety of craic was—I realized just how right he had been. You might say I’m now a craic addict.
Yer Man
This is a very Irish way to describe someone. It’s one of their more brilliant expressions. Here’s how it can be used:
So the other day I was out for a stroll and yer man walked right by me without so much as a hello!
The person in this scenario usually has not been mentioned up to this point in the conversation, but the Irish speaker assumes you know who they are talking about, so you have to rely on previous conversations and some quick deduction in order to properly identify who yer man actually is.
Himself or Herself
These two terms refer to the patriarch or matriarch of a family or household. Similar to yer man because the the individual isn’t specifically named, but more specific in who is being referenced.
For F*#k’s Sake
It seems like the good people of Ireland—in both the Free State and the North—use the mother of all curse words in conversation about as much as we Americans use the word the. It certainly is different-sounding—more like “hook” or “heck” than “buck,”—and everybody says it. Maybe the most surprising time I heard it used was by a kind and welcoming priest who invited my younger sister and me back for a cup of tea in the sacristy after a mass he had said in honor of my aunt in Dublin. As he was looking for something for us to enjoy with our tea, I heard him mutter to himself, “For f*#k’s sake, where’s me cakes?”
Jayyyyyyyyyysus
Also known as the famous carpenter from Nazareth. The holy name is used in vain by elongating the first syllable as only the Irish can. The longer it takes to say our savior’s name is usually based on how egregious the offense is.
I’m in Bits
This is not a good thing. Often used to describe a physical malady of some sort. “Me stomach’s in bits.”
I’ll Ring Ya
This is probably outdated as we seem to text rather than call nowadays. First time I heard it, my mind immediately went to my neck as I hoped I hadn’t upset the person who said they’d “ring me.”
Safe Home
This expression is used every time folks part company. After a good night of craic, it’s a way of saying farewell. You often hear folks wish the recently departed the same on their journey home to Heaven.
I will certainly miss being in Cleveland this weekend for the celebration. On the West Side there is no shortage of the beautiful, tri-colored flags of green, white, and orange. At many homes they are flown year-round beside the stars and stripes. One of those houses was right across the street from us and was home to the Corrigan family.
The head of the household was a soft-spoken, former POW during World War II. The Judge as we called him—he served many years in the juvenile court system—was extremely proud of his Irish heritage. A poem that originally hung in his basement now adorns the wall of my bedroom. It may be the perfect summary when it comes to describing the Irish.
What shall I say about the Irish?
The utterly impractical, never predictable
Something irascible, quite inexplicable Irish.
Strange blend of shyness, pride and conceit,
And stubborn refusal to bow in defeat.
He's spoiling and ready to argue and fight,
Yet the smile of a child fills his soul with delight.
His eyes are the quickest to well up in tears,
Yet his strength is the strongest to banish your fears.
His faith is as fierce as his devotion is grand,
And there's no middle ground on which he will stand.
He's wild and he's gentle.
He's good and he's bad.
He's proud and he's humble.
He's happy and he's sad.
He's in love with the ocean, the earth and the skies.
He's enamored with beauty wherever it lies.
He's victor and victim, a star and a clod,
But mostly he's Irish in love with his God.
-Unknown
Here’s hoping this year’s Saint Patrick’s Day celebrations—both in Heaven and on Earth—are filled with joy, laughter and plenty of craic! And as the old Irish blessing goes, “May the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day of your past.”
Dia shabhail Eire! (God Save Ireland!)
-Tommy O’Sionnach
Jayyyyyyyysus that was a fun read! 🇮🇪
It’s a wonderful place Nanette!