Since it’s St Patrick’s Day and a lot of people know that I’m a 5th generation Irish storyteller and a 4th generation Texas Bull Shipper (you notice how carefully I said that word) that it might be appropriate to say a few words.
My Irish heritage goes back further than 5 generations, that’s just as far as I can document the storytellers in the line, although I suspect they all are. My great-grandmother was an O’Green from Cork County, although they dropped the O on the boat on the way over and it just became Green. I know her daddy could spin a wee tale, so that makes five for sure.
On St Pats day everyone wants to be Irish. I was at a conference in San Antonio when it rolled around a couple of years ago and everyone in the place was trying to be Irish to the core. When they found out I was the real deal I became something of a celebrity. Given my size they speculated that I might actually be a leprecauhn disguised in a ten gallon hat. Someone pointed out that leprecauhns were very little men but someone else quickly pointed out “not in Texas.”
I neither confirmed nor denied it and still stand by that position. If you look up the definition of leprecauhn it says “they usually take the form of old men who enjoy partaking in mischief.” Ask my wife if that isn’t true.
Should any of you be superstitious, or if you just don’t want to take chances, the famous “Luck of the Irish” is only transferable on this day by receiving an Irish blessing, preferably from a real leprecauhn. For that reason I will now pronounce upon you the most famous of all the Irish blessings:
May the road rise to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
The rains fall soft upon your fields
And until we meet again
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.
Oh, yes, it’s also said that you can capture a leprecauhn and find the location of their pot of gold, but that’s back in the old country and you’d have to catch one over there to accomplish that.