Irish eyes


Neel's mom was Irish (she's the lassie on the right).  She immigrated to the US in the early sixties where she met Neel's dad who is Indian.  Our family joke is that they fell in love over their united hatred of the British.  She was born in 1939 in Southern Ireland and had memories of seeing Nazi ships (and British ships) come into the harbor near where she lived.  Neel's granddad, her father, had general store on the border of Southern and Northern Ireland, and she and her brothers and sisters would sneak goods across the border into the north.  Her siblings ended up as nurses, a drunk and a priest.  How much more Irish can you get? 



It's no wonder that we all feel a little greener today.  We celebrated yesterday with corned beef and cabbage (not actually an Irish dish) and Guinness (extra stout!), and today, I'll leave you to celebrate with this.  A poem by one of my favorites and of the Ireland's greatest.

When You are Old, William Butler Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with a love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the shadows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.