In her teens and twenties, my mom was a singer. She had a lovely, haunting voice and great style. By the time I came along and was growing up, Mom mostly sang while she did chores. She always seemed to have her hands in the sink with a load of dirty dishes from our good Irish Catholic family of five.
Mom was a Connelly and her mother a Kennedy. Yes, we’re related. But then, Ireland is a small island; everyone is really related to everyone else.
So on St. Paddy’s day, here is the closest thing I could find to my mother singing her very favorite song.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day up there, Mom. I hope your Irish eyes are smiling and dancing up there with Dad.
Everyone else keep safe! Me, I have dishes to do.
FiftyFourandAHalf 