Being Irish

Beyond leprechauns, Guinness, and Notre Dame football

Photo by Steven Hylands

Never was a big fan of the American version of St. Patrick’s Day. It’s an excuse to drink, for bad behavior, and a license to proclaim you are somehow Irish when it’s only a tiny sliver of your ancestry, or worse yet, not a part of it at all. You just put on a silly hat, a green sweatshirt, go to the parade, listen to The Cranberries and U2, and suddenly you’re from County Cork.

On St. Patrick’s Day I would rather think more about what it truly means to have Irish ancestry, to have the Irish character.

The Dugan side of my family, my father’s side came from County Wexford. This makes me a third Irish, so I think that gives me just enough of the DNA to believe I have the appropriate amount of Gaelic in my blood to make a claim to my Irish character.

But what is the Irish character? What does that truly mean?

I know what it doesn’t mean.

It’s not about drinking green beer, or four-leaf clovers, or Irish coffee (an American invention), or sipping Jameson’s whiskey, or telling jokes about the priest who walked into a pub. Instead, it’s about a very particular way of seeing the world, of being alive, of looking at life.

I don’t pretend to have the ultimate perspective on being at least part Irish. But it is clear that there are many—Irish or not—who have sound insight into this “character.”

Let’s start with the Irish novelist Edna O’Brien.

“When anyone asks me about the Irish character, I say look at the trees. Maimed, stark and misshapen, but ferociously tenacious.”

I like that.

But then there’s Sigmund Freud.

“This is one race of people for whom psychoanalysis is of no use whatsoever.”

Hmm. He may have something there.

Traveling to Ireland, I’ve experienced the hospitality, the helpfulness, the friendliness, and wit. Sound like a cliche? It isn’t, not in my estimation. And my Irish friends, ones a lot more Irish than me, would agree. It’s part of the culture, the Irish nature, and yes, the Irish character. That’s my observation and the observation of many others more personally connected to the people of Ireland. It’s seems universal.

You’ve undoubtedly heard of the great storytelling abilities of the Irish. I could name dozens of famous authors, poets, and playwrights. My father had that storytelling gene. He told wonderful tales and great jokes, full of vigor, using accents, employing an actor’s sensibility. It came quite naturally.

But then the dread returns.

“Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.” —William Butler Yeats

I saw this trait in my father at times. His moodiness. I have a bit of that, unfortunately. Does that make it an Irish thing? Maybe not. But when a great Irish poet says it, well, you have to give it some serious credence.

Then there’s the tragic history of the Irish being considered the bastards of Europe and early America.

This from British novelist and philosopher Iris Murdoch.

“I think being a woman is like being Irish... Everyone says you're important and nice, but you take second place all the time.”

This undoubtedly plays into the larger puzzle of the Irish character.

But you can’t forget about that ever-present dread.

“To be Irish is to know that in the end the world will break your heart.”
― Daniel Patrick Moynihan, former U.S. politician and diplomat

Of course, too, there’s the devotion to family and friends.

“May the roof above us never fall in and may the friends beneath it never fall out.” —Irish Proverb

Do these quotes begin to give us a sense of the Irish character, what it means to walk this life with at least a good swath of Irish heritage? It gives a bit of a window, I think. But there are many windows to peer into. And at this time of year when St. Patrick is on our minds, maybe it is okay to claim one’s Irishness even if you have not an ounce of it, because “being Irish” may be a bit of blessing, even for those without the DNA history. So, go ahead, wear your green and claim your Gaelic heart.

I’ll leave you with this from novelist C.E. Murphy, the American-born author who resides in Ireland. It’s from her book Urban Shaman.

“In Ireland, you go to someone's house, and she asks you if you want a cup of tea. You say no, thank you, you're really just fine. She asks if you're sure. You say of course you're sure, really, you don't need a thing. Except they pronounce it “ting.” You don't need a “ting.” Well, she says then, I was going to get myself some anyway, so it would be no trouble. Ah, you say, well, if you were going to get yourself some, I wouldn't mind a spot of tea, at that, so long as it's no trouble and I can give you a hand in the kitchen. Then you go through the whole thing all over again until you both end up in the kitchen drinking tea.

In America, someone asks you if you want a cup of tea, you say no, and then you don't get any damned tea.

I liked the Irish way better.”

---

David W. Berner is the author of several books of fiction and memoir, including the award-winning novella, The Islander, the story of an unexpected bond between an American-born writer living on a remote Irish island and a young woman on a hiking adventure, hoping to recover from a tragic past.