Oh Danny Boy

My father was 1/2 Irish, today I think of him. I remember him on St. Patty’s Day, coming down for breakfast, like he did every single weekday. Sitting at the end of the big oak table in the breakfast room, the room at the end of the house, off of the kitchen, next to the dining room, the room with walls of windows on two sides, which faced the back yard, the east, the rising sun.

My dad ate breakfast every day, served by my mom, coffee always ready when he came down from upstairs, freshly shaved with shirt and tie. Eggs, toast, orange juice, or later in life, shredded wheat with honey. On St. Patty’s Day a narrower than usual green silk tie, with shamrocks, that looked old in it’s narrowness, new in it’s greenness, a once a year tie.

He was usually kind in the mornings, polite and ready to go to work. After breakfast, he’d put on his suit coat, kiss my mom goodbye, and give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, he’d smell fresh and good, not like beer. These mornings in their routineness made me feel safe. A feeling mostly unfamiliar to me.

I named my oldest daughter Kathleen, to hold onto and cherish the memory of my dad singing, “I’ll take you home again, Kathleen”, to my older sister named Kathleen. I’d watch as he’d sing sweetly to my sister, both entranced and jealous at once. The song is so sad, but the tune is sweet, and today, today, I honor my dad, Daniel.

I'll take you home again, Kathleen
Across the ocean wild and wide
To where your heart has ever been
Since you were first my bonnie bride.
The roses all have left your cheek.
I've watched them fade away and die
Your voice is sad when e'er you speak
And tears bedim your loving eyes.
Oh! I will take you back, Kathleen
To where your heart will feel no pain
And when the fields are fresh and green
I'II take you to your home again!


Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.