Grandpa William had a good explanation for almost missing his Saint Patrick’s Day marching assignment. Nobody believed him, but they all agreed it was an entertaining bit of blarney.
Grandpa’s version varied widely with those of Seamus O’Shea, Mrs. Sweeny and Officer McCann, but I will repeat here only Grandpa’s tale and hope the others have grandchildren who will publish their rebuttals.
I was actually an eyewitness way back then but my view was obstructed by a heavy quilt, a bonnet and the sides of my perambulator.
On that St. Patrick’s Day, Grandpa William and Seamus O’Shea were honored to carry the Sons of Kerry banner, a 20-foot long emerald green masterpiece with gold letters and tassels that whipped about grandly in the breeze.
Grandpa and Seamus stood at the front of the Kerry marchers ready to step off. However there was a dispute down the road where the Tipperary Pipers were demanding to lead the parade. This caused a delay and two or three broken noses.
The Kerry marches were two blocks back and not involved in the discussion or contusions. Grandpa eventually decided his stalled marchers needed hot cups of tea on this chilly day. So the banner was folded and the Kerry men walked into nearby O’Shea’s establishment for their tea. Grandpa admitted O’Shea’s was not a tea room, but tea was what the chilled marchers needed. However, Mr. O’Shea argued successfully that a quicker beverage was needed since the “Forward March” command might be minutes away.
In the meantime, Grandma Honora and a crowd of relations waited in proud anticipation in front of the reviewing stand. I was in a wicker carriage holding a green balloon.
Back at O’Shea’s the Kerry men were well warmed up when Grandpa suddenly noticed the street outside was empty. He and the marchers dashed out the door with Seamus and Grandpa unfurling the banner. The parade was out of sight!
Grandpa quickly figured out a shortcut to the reviewing stand and took off down a side street with the Kerry men trotting behind. The volume of the pipers’ music increased. They were gaining on them! A sharp turn up ahead would do it.
“Hoy, Seamus!” Grandpa shouted and leapt over Mrs. Sweeny’s hedge, raced across her yard, under the filled clothes line and through the chicken coop to exit onto Main Street in time for the Kerry contingent to blend in with the other marchers.
“It’s a strange banner that County Kerry carries this year,” the Mayor remarked. Grandma Honora was more to the point. “Willie, why are you and Seamus dressed like Indians with all those feathers and whose unmentionables are draped across your banner?”
Grandpa and Seamus, who’d been marching with heads held high, suddenly discovered they were covered with feathers and there was grisly evidence that Seamus had stepped on a chicken. Worst of all, the banner was carrying Mrs. Sweeny’s bloomers.
She soon arrived with Officer McCann who dragged the pair out of the line of march while the crowd cheered. Damage payments and apologies soon soothed things. So did the fact that Mrs. Sweeny’s husband was a Kerry man.
Grandpa’s parade trophy (for Most Dramatic Banner) on the mantle was always an inspiration for another imaginative recital of that day’s adventure.
Imagine That 