"Thank You to a true Celtic
Soul"
written for Bob Packer by
D.Clarke
A man walked into a bar one
night,
An inconspicuous man, at
first sight
His voice was soft as he
took my hand
Then he said "Hello" and
changed the land
in which I live.
Yes, a man walked into a bar
one night
and changed my life.
Many times I passed a small white building trimmed with green and wondered
what I would find there. I had never walked into a bar unescorted,
however, one evening I summoned the courage to walk alone into the small
pub called "O'Halloran's Tipperary Pub". It sat surrounded by vacant
lots next to one of the many freeways in Detroit, Michigan.
I walked timidly inside and found a cool darkness. When my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, I was looking at shields lining the walls. They told the story of a brave and ancient people. I choose an empty stool trying to be as inconspicuous as possible while I listened to the folk singers chant the songs of a distant and troubled land.
Then a strange thing happened,
just as the musicians took a break and ambled
from the tiny stage, a man
walked over to me and introduced himself as Bob Packer.
I wondered at the strange
man. He carried no subterfuge or ulterior motive.
His was an open and friendly
manner as he introduced me to his wife and told me of
a daughter he wanted me to
meet.
Throughout the following week
I wondered about the strange man in the strange pub, for this was a large
city and I was not accustomed to well meaning, friendly strangers boldly
approaching me. I decided not to return to the otherworldly place,
for the rare unassuming friendliness of its denizens was very suspect in
its large, crime laden surroundings. What, I asked myself, were their
intentions and what, pray tell, was in store for me there where the haunting
strains of ancient melodies brought long forgotten memories from lives
once lived and long buried to color
my hurried present?
Within a few days I found myself returning, my heart bending my will and forcing my body to go back to where my neglected Celtic soul found comfort and familiarity. The man was there too and this time he brought his daughter, the one he wanted so desperately for me to meet. Her name was Colleen and that meeting changed both of our lives in ways we had never suspected such a meeting could do.
For now, this was the 'reason' my heart could present to my resisting and cautious will in order that its suspicions be allayed so that I returned easily again and again to the haunting melodies and stories of a land distant to my life but, close to my heart.
It was here that my soul found its wings expressed in a poetry now risen from the dusty recesses of a long shielded heart. It was here that I found the friendship of the folk singers, pub goers and Tommy, the owner, and it was here I took my first taste of Guinness, undemanding camaraderie and the unassuming friendship that is Celtic and expressed so well in the character of the man called Bob Packer. Until this time, I believed that bars were for drinking and that the people who frequented them were, for the most part lost or ill intentioned. Now I knew differently and Colleen and I visited the Gaelic league where my daughters and myself found the joy of the Irish language, Coeli and Irish step dancing. My girls and I competed in dancing and Irish language recitation and found a community of friendship and memories we could cherish all of our lives. I joined the Gaelic League's plane trip to Ireland, visited my relatives in Kerry and brought back part of my heritage to feed my hungry soul.
And all because a man walked into a bar one night and changed my life, forever.
"Friends"
by D.Clarke
As we travel this garden path
of life
It's the friends we remember,
not the strife
For friends are the flowers
along this road
Grown from seeds of memories
shared and sowed.
In ground of both happy times
and sad
Watered down with tears both
gloomy and glad.
Fed by sunshine smiles, laughter
light and sweet
To soften the pebbles beneath
our feet.
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