WTIT: The Blog

Saturday 9: Unicorn

“The Unicorn” was selected because Monday is St. Patrick’s Day. Unfamiliar with this week’s song? Hear it here.

1) This song was recorded by The Irish Rovers. While it’s said that on St. Patrick’s Day everyone is Irish, can you honestly claim Irish heritage?  Why, is there a fucking prize? And if there is, what do I win? My mother’s maiden name was Brennan. Next question.

2) According to the 2000 Census, Massachusetts is the state with the largest percentage of residents of Irish descent. Have you ever been to The Bay State? Only on weekdays. I sell liquor in Western Mass. As I have said, I try to keep Massachusetts safe from sobriety. (I live just over the border in Connecticut.)

3) Other than St. Patrick, what is Ireland famous for? Beer. Guinness I’d speculate. Not because I know a lot about beer, I don’t. I know the irony with my name and the like. But I chose the name when I was 15. I didn’t drink anything at that age. I did serve it. For some reason dates went better when the lady was smashed.

4) St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated the world over. They even watch marching bands and wave Irish flags on St. Patrick’s Day in Moscow. Does your town have a St. Patrick’s Day parade? Nope. But as fate would have it, the second biggest parade in the country after New York is in Holyoke, Massachusetts. I mean you cannot throw a dead cart in Holyoke without hitting a person of I Irish decent. Why people throw dead cats around is a question for another day. I was in the Holyoke Parade once when I was Gary Hunter, the morning guy at WMAS in nearby Springfield.

5) “The wearing o’ the green” is one way to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. Will you wear something green in honor of the day? If I think of it I do. I’m not big on the “Kiss My Ass I’m Irish” stuff. One of my wives (not the current one) wrote on a government document under “nationality” that she was “Irish-Italian”. I nearly pissed in my pants. I stuttered out, “I think you may want to write ‘American’” I think ‘s time we stop the nonsense of what part of Europe, Africa, Vulcan or Asia our people came from.

6) Have you ever had green beer? Yes.

7) Have you ever ordered a Shamrock Shake at McDonald’s? No.

8) A four-leaf clover is considered good luck. Do you have a lucky charm? In the previous incarnation of this blog, I would have responded “Yes. Wanna rub it or kiss it?”

9) Speaking of Lucky Charms, they are magically delicious.  What brand of cereal is in your kitchen right now? Probably just oatmeal or the like. Whatever me lady me wife eats.

My day had is 15 day hearing from the “Behavior Ward” of the hospital that’s treating him. He is both paranoid and suffering dementia. He last report said that he is so intelligent that he answers the hard questions easily but it is the simple ones is where he fails. He is in a horrible section. I mean the “community room” looks like a Star Wars bar. Seriously. The problem is the paranoid part. He’s refusing meds, but that one that they inject him with. They haven’t found a combination that works yet. When he stops thinking that they are trying to poison him and that everyone is brainwashed (including me) we can find a more suitable place. It is a long process; since I first wrote about it I’ve worked nonstop for documents so he can go on Title 19. I finished the list Thursday. The judge ruled against his release, much to our relief.

I haven’t seen him in two weeks. I did go a week ago but missed the visiting hours. It is so hard to have him “his old self” for a while the burst into “If you don’t take me home today then you are no longer my son…” The drugs should eventually cure his paranoia. The dementia will only increase.

With apologies to the late Daniel Fogelberg…

The youngest child alone and wild
A clothing maker’s son
His hands were meant for different work
Yet his heart was known to some
He married mom then I came along the way
And he gave to me so many gifts I know
I never can repay

A boisterous man of music
Denied a simpler fate
He tried to be pro athlete once
But his family couldn’t wait
He earned his love through discipline
A thundering, velvet hand
His gentle means of sculpting souls
Took me years to understand.

The leader of the band is tired
And his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through my humor
And his songs are in my soul
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man
I’m just a living legacy
To the leader of the band.

My dad and I at my wedding to Kathy, October 2012