Living My Irish Dreamby Mary Catherine Brouder
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Take, for example, a Facebook group created this past Tuesday, “Petition – N21 Barnagh Road Layout” – aimed at drawing attention to a dangerous stretch of road between Abbeyfeale and Newcastle West, Co. Limerick.
“Four people were killed on this road in four weeks,” explains one of the petition’s co-founders , Brian Murphy, of Templeglantine, Co. Limerick.
I saw the little pouch dangling from a shelf in a local discount store, and I immediately decided to investigate what these bracelets are all about.
“Oh Shag Bands, you mean,” a teenager named Aoife tells me. “You wear them and if somebody snaps one, that means you have to do whatever the color means.”
Words to live by, indeed. A good beginning can make all the difference. Maybe sometimes, a good beginning is just possessing those old Irish phrases that will be there for us when we need them, along the way.
It started a few weeks ago on Dame Street in Dublin’s city center.
What was turning out to be one of those painfully quiet nights in a local pub took a turn for the extraordinary thanks to a jaunt to the bathroom. As my sister and I walked down the stairs to the basement toilets, a shock of steel drums, distinctively African rhythms and choral vocals seeped out from behind the door and instinctively set our hips and limbs a-moving. Almost involuntarily.