This week’s subject is one of my favorites. Ireland.

The dilemma? What can I write that can possibly capture the essence, the spirit, the completely lovable, affable place that is Ireland. Impossible. Although I am a Murphy, I’m not James Joyce or Oscar Wilde or William Butler Yeats or George Bernard Shaw or Jonathan Swift or Edna O’Brien . . . not even CLOSE!

But I’m gonna try . . . .

No – I’m gonna cheat.

I’m going to share some Irish prose with you that will warm your heart and captivate you and get you reaching for your calendars and indelible Sharpie markers to block off the dates of April 1 – 11 . . .

I’ve mentioned his name before. In a blog post dated June 13, 2014, I wrote about my long and treasured relationship with my favorite Irishman, Pat Crowley. It’s the story about how I chose him – a quarter century ago! – to collaborate with me on arrangements for a large group of electrical contractors who wanted to go to Ireland. It’s a pretty good story (I think) if you want to read it before continuing with the rest of this week’s blog . . . (Go ahead, click the link, I’ll give you time…) . . .

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(this is the space I’m giving you to read the blog post from June 13, 2014 . . .)

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I’ve been doing business with Pat for years and years and years. The mere thought of going to Ireland and participating in the stuff he creates on my behalf . . . well – it just makes me smile – knowing how much joy and delight my guests will have. As you might know, I do amazing, amazing experiences in countries all over the world, but the stuff I do in Ireland . . . it’s got a measure of pixie dust sprinkled on top. Maybe it’s the leprechauns who, according to Wikipedia, are described like this:

“He is about three feet high, and is dressed in a little red jacket or roundabout, with red breeches buckled at the knee, gray or black stockings, and a hat, cocked in the style of a century ago, over a little, old, withered face. Round his neck is an Elizabethan ruff, and frills of lace are at his wrists. On the wild west coast, where the Atlantic winds bring almost constant rains, he dispenses with ruff and frills and wears a frieze overcoat over his pretty red suit, so that, unless on the lookout for the cocked hat, ye might pass a Leprechawn on the road and never know it’s himself that’s in it at all.“

I’m not suggesting that Pat is a leprechaun, and I can’t imagine him wearing frills of lace at his wrists – (although he’d probably do it if I insisted . . . ) but whatever wizardry a leprechaun bestows . . . that’s what Pat does for my clients in Ireland.

In researching what to write this week, I searched through old email correspondence. I found one that tugged at my heart strings as much as it did the day he sent it to me just over a year ago. This little missive – as much as anything I could write about Ireland – captures the heart and soul of the experience Pat and I are creating and concocting for The WOW! Travel Club this April – topped with heaping helpings of pixie dust! (In case it’s not abundantly clear: I’m inviting you to join us!)

 

December 12, 2014

From: Pat Crowley

To: Marilyn (Spud) Murphy

Subject: What a difference a day makes …… 800 years, at least

 

Good Morning, Marilyn,

I really have to share this with you, as I think back on earlier this week, and specifically on what a difference a day can make.

Diary:  Saturday December 6^th, 2014.

Time :  4.20 pm  On board United 646, inbound from Chicago O’Hare and queued in a holding pattern at 15,000 feet over Liberty Airport, Newark.

No need to worry (yet) about my onward connection to Shannon, Ireland.

It hardly mattered that I had an aisle seat, 36J ….. the low cloud that was swirling all around us went right to ground level, so I didn’t miss out on anything as regards a view.

A pity, nonetheless, as I do like that view over towards Manhattan, the Hudson and the Statue of Liberty.

Cabin lights are now dimmed “in preparation for landing” …… they actually stayed dimmed for a further 15 minutes.

Diary: Sunday December 7^th, 2014.

4.20 pm. St. Flannan’s Cathedral, in Killaloe, on the banks of the River Shannon, Ireland’s longest river.

I’m not in 36J, but rather in a beautifully carved wooden pew in St. Flannan’s Cathedral, built in 1180. That’s 300 years before Christopher Columbus discovered the Americas.

I’m at ground level, not at 15,000 feet, but I’m already on Cloud Nine ……  and climbing!!

The cathedral lights are dimmed, and filtered by the magnificent stained-glass windows, the last rays of the setting sun create stunning rainbow patterns on the centuries-old walls.

The Irish Youth Orchestra are in full flight, weaving their own magical musical tapestry of melody and harmony. Sixteen hugely talented harpists warm our hearts and lift our spirits with lullabies and madrigals , interspersed with rhythmic jigs and hornpipes from Ellie on tin-whistle and Conor on bodhran … one of those goose-bump moments that we all seek for our clients at one time or another.

As we left, the haunting final chords of Amazing Grace seemed to just hang in the air ……  lingering …… reluctant to part company.

Remember our motto: “We don’t sell Ireland …… we share it“.  A moment like last Sunday afternoon in a 12^th-century cathedral is definitely for sharing. With a chosen few. 

Happy holiday!
  Pat

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I can’t promise you the Irish Youth Orchestra. I can’t promise you a double rainbow. I can’t even promise that you’ll see leprechauns. But I CAN promise you a travel experience of a lifetime! Please – get out your calendar and Sharpie marker and put an “x” through the dates of April 1-11, 2016. Jump on this singular opportunity to be one of the chosen few to experience Ireland like a local. Tell your friends, too! (Not all your friends, just the ones who would value an extraordinary experience like this.) Check out the details at this website. Then, register here.

And prepare to be “wow”ed by a true wizard!

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You’ve honored me by reading all the way through! I would love your company in April and/or would love your comments in the box below. Thank you again, or – as they say in Ireland, “go raibh maith agat.”