Ireland was in total chaos. People were starving. The British had bummed rushed the small island, repeating history from previous invasions. Many Irish took up arms against their aggressors. Country men turned on each others. Allegiances to religion, not God, were formed. Neighbors who once loved each other became suspicious of motive. Infighting was pained. Peace was silent. Fighting was now inherited trait for most. Darkness was now seen as light. Light was now seen as darkness. Down was up. Freedom would now come at the end of a brawl.
Some rose up and believing violence is all that would work. Two sides marched into battle, both under the cross. One side Catholic. One side Protestant. Some were called terrorist. Some were called freedom fighters. Liberation or occupation?
Many Irish fled.
For those escaping, the Irish became the Irish-Americans. They flooded the East Coast. Many settleded in the Five Points of New York City. Some said the hard working men and women allegiant to the Green & Orange offered the hands that built America.
*****
Today my son asked if God was Irish. I said yes and smiled. He offered me a seven-year old's grin, and then launched into his best Irish impression.
"I am a Harper. I am Irish. My dad is Irish…" then he paused. Lifting both hands to heaven, similar to Moses on the mountain, he decried in continued brogue, "And My God is Irish."
Someday, I'll have to break it to him…but until then, let the little guy believe! Until then Erin Go Braugh.
Hopeful despite myself,
Jas
