Daddy was Magical .... Not "magical" like a magician or an illusionist, but rather he possessed the "magic" of a true Irishman, someone with the "heart of a fey" and the blood of the Tuatha de Danann ....
Many Irish people believe in The Little People (faeries, elves, leprechauns, pookas, etc), the Children of Danu who were driven underground after being defeated in battle by the Milesians (which seems to parallel the coming of Christianity in Ireland), and who became known in Irish legend as The Wee Folk .... There are many descriptions in Celtic mythology & history of The Little People, but the descriptions I favor the most -- and the ones that most represent my adorable father -- are these: lightheartedness, a poetic/creative soul, a funloving manner, a great ability to "cast spells" on children & animals alike, a sense of adventure, the illusion of "never growing old", a childlike faith, and overall "free-spirited" way of conducting themselves .... My father was the absolute picture of those descriptions, and he created a wonderful sense of magic for all around him.
True to his Irish roots, he was an artist, a poet, and a great storyteller .... Our house was always full of family and friends, sitting around the dining room or breakfast room tables, or in the den, laughing hysterically at Daddy's stories .... His childhood, his baseball-playing days, his WWII years, his large & colorful family -- any story he told was enchanting, wildly funny, and different each time he told it ;-) .... "Full of blarney" was my mother's description of him, but she too loved his stories -- and him -- dearly ! ... His artwork was mesmerizing, as he created his water colors, his oils, his pen and inks, his acrylics, and such .... His poetry was deep and rich, filled with beautiful phrasing, and a true display of his intelligence, tolerant nature, and of his great wit !
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Daddy also loved leprechauns, and he loved spinning great adventure stories for me about the escapades of the Leprechauns, who are part of The Little People in Celtic folklore and mythology .... There was nothing a good Leprechaun couldn't do, and he could escape from any trap, given time and a good tool .... My favorite Leprechaun story was the ongoing one my Dad would tell each time we had a rainstorm, sitting on the front porch of our house in the city, listening to the "leprechaun in the drain pipe" .... You know the sound -- the gentle "tap", "tap", "tap" of the water flowing through the pipes from the roof .... Daddy would say to me, "Listen, Donna .... There he is again .... he's trying to break outta that pipe .... Let's sit real still, be quiet, and wait to see him escape !" ....
For what seemed like a thousand minutes, I would sit quietly, listening to the tap tap tap, and wait to see the streak of green my Dad promised I would see, as the freed Leprechaun would run across our lawn .... Anytime I would get distracted and start chattering away again in my childish prattle, Daddy would exclaim, "There he goes ! .... Did you see him ? .... He's free!" .... Turning to look onto the lawn, I would miss that darned Leprechaun every time, but then Daddy would say, "Wait ! ... I think I hear another one ! ... Let's get real still and quiet again, and see if we can see this one when he's freed himself !" .... Again, I would sit quietly for a few minutes, but each time I would begin talking, and another sneaky Little One would free himself, scampering across our lawn, and seen only by Daddy ! .... I sat on that front porch with my father a thousand times during rainstorms, and never once did I see any of those Leprechauns -- Daddy did, but I didn't !
As I grew older, I realized the Leprechauns were Daddy's way of quieting a talkative little girl, but the magic of those moments remained in my heart .... To this very day, I love sitting on my front porch during a rainstorm, and to this day, I still look for a streak of green, scampering across my lawn, another Leprechaun freed from the drain pipe !
Daddy died on St. Patrick's Day in 1995, leaving behind a daughter who will cherish his stories -- and him -- for the rest of her life ... He was magical in every way, and, come to think of it now, with his shock of auburn red hair, the perpetual twinkle in his eyes, his penchant for green shirts, and his delightful giggle -- Maybe my Daddy was a Leprechaun ?!?!? ... And maybe, just maybe, he DID see his little green-suited friends !
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