Well, St. Patrick’s Day is almost here. My grandfather, Patrick McLoughlin, left Ireland as a young man to seek, what he felt, would be a better life here in the US. Family stories, told to me as a child, portrayed a young man, the eldest in his family, being walked to the train by his mother who watched him depart. He would return to Ireland just once more many years later. What must the day he first left been like? My grandfather never talked about it. For he had an immigrant’s heart. That heart marches to the beat of two quite different drums, one from the old homeland and the other from the new. The immigrant has to bridge these two worlds, living comfortably in the new and bringing the best of his or her ancient identity and heritage to bear on life in an adopted homeland. Still, this St. Patrick’s Day, I wonder what that day at the train station was like for a mother and for a son. My friend, Chris Brown, sung about this and today I want to share it because I think it’s what my grandfather’s family said to him the day he left Castlebar. Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everybody!
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The Valley Viewpoint 