|When Orish Oyes Are Kneecapping
||[Apr. 9th, 2014|06:00 pm]
9 April 2014|
I get an email of The Writer's Almanac every morning from NPR; a poem a day (and a link to Garrison Kiellor reading it), and some literary notes. For instance, today, 9 April, is the day in 1859 that Sam Clemens got his riverboat license.
This was obviously a bit back, but on St. Pat's Day, this was the lead item:
Today is St. Patrick's Day, a feast day honoring the patron saint of Ireland. St. Patrick's Day was originally intended as a holy day to observe the arrival of Christianity into Ireland. St. Patrick himself was English, not Irish. He was born into an aristocratic family, but was kidnapped and taken to Ireland. Eventually, he escaped, went home, became a priest, and returned to Ireland to convert the natives to Christianity.
I had a sudden thought – has ever a man had a more terrible vengeance? "I suppose I could kill 'em, but that's quick. How can I be sure their children's children's children, seven times seven generations, will suffer as though damned?"