The Garden Center

It's been a long day, and my feet are tired. I'm enjoying my new job at the Garden Center. It's hard work, and I'm pushing myself to be useful. As a temp, I might be hired at the end of my four-month term or I might not. But, while I am working I'm doing my best to enjoy the days. I do love being in the center of such utter chaos, with people milling around, asking questions, and me, being able to provide answers. The social structure of the place is interesting. There are two Irish-born natives there, one from Donegal in the north and the other from Dublin in the east. I've had good experiences with the other Irish and Irish-Americans I've encountered in my life and it adds a flavor to the place. I'm sorting out the crabs from the friendlies, and learning which to drift toward and which to handle with kid gloves. I'm thinking of my childhood and the other Irish people who opened my eyes to a wider world. One was Patrick Cleary from Tipperary. Patrick was the milker at the local dairy barn, who patiently relieved 80 Holstein cows of their milk three times a day at the Crocker Farm in Ashby. My  friend Barbara McKenney and I would ride our horses to Crockers on summer days, and hang out in the milking parlor, watching the orderly progression of cows move through the herringbone stalls. Patrick talked about Tipperary and Ireland, suggested books if we wanted to know more, and kept us out of trouble for four summers. Through Patrick Cleary we met Jim, who came from Belfast and was an all Ireland champion boxer. Unfortunately, I didn't pay close enough attention the time he told us his last name, and I regret that now. The only thing on my mind at that age was: "He's kind of cute for an old man" and "I wonder if Barbie wants to race through the cornfield." He was of a more political bent, being from Belfast, and we learned a little about the Orange and the Green. We were kids, so a deep discussion of old anger and wrongs would not have been appropriate. Jim would take over Patrick's milking duties for a month, leaving our friend clear to go home to Ireland. It was probably a break for the both of them. Other people from the Emerald Isle came along later, each contributing a little bit of themselves to my life. As for those of Irish descent, Dan Holohan I acquired a taste for the music to which I still listen, and am considering learning to play. I met others in college, including a couple of nuns, who gave me a taste of the culture. From Catholic college I entered an industry that is heavily weighted with people of Irish descent, the owners and publishers all seeming to come from old newspaper families. I wonder what part these two will play in my life? Or maybe it will be just business?