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Browsing Tag: Fighting Irish

It Bears Repeating

This is Margaret Claire Hetherington Nicholl. I used to call her Grandmom, but she’d be Peggy to you. I post this picture of her somewhere on my social media every St. Patrick’s Day–in fact, I’ve probably written this post before.  Because look at her. Just look at my grandmom, the west Philly girl sitting at a picnic table somewhere on the west coast of Ireland in 2004, threatening to give me a knuckle sandwich if I took her photo. I survived that moment–and somehow got away with a picture. Luck o’ the Irish, indeed. Sometime back in my early twenties, when I was just out of college and working at a legal publisher in Philly, my poor insecure self met up with my friend for a beer at Maggie O’Neill’s in Drexel Hill. The place was empty that evening, and we sat at the bar. I couldn’t afford to be out, but my friend and I were commiserating/celebrating/commemorating something, so I ordered a pint of Guinness, and was taken aback when the Irish bartender–older than I was, bigger&#8211…

Onward to Victory Sounds Kind of Easy After All

We took our kids to South Bend, Indiana this weekend to see Notre Dame (go Irish!) play Navy.  It’s always a good game to take kids–respect! honor! tradition! a flyover!–but it’s also an incredibly intense weekend: we drive out early on Friday from our home here in Pennsylvania, pack in some activities that night, spend most of the day Saturday on the go, and then try to pack in a bit more before we drive home Sunday. We’ve never done it with all three children before. We would be traveling with my mom, and meeting up with my brother and sister-in-law, who were driving in from Wisconsin. People thought we were nuts. I’m not even going to wager a guess as to what my bro and his wife were bracing themselves for. Thank God for sibling love. 10.13.15. Notre Dame. flyover. MOV And even though we knew we were supposed to be nuts, we had absolutely no expectations going into this trip: on one hand, the kids have become really good travelers (well, SK and Quinn have always been, and Cian suddenly has done…

Keep It Down, Will You?

We were packing Saturday morning, late as usual.  I was just getting snacks ready for the car (for a trip that was just over two hours, but you know when you have little ones you need to travel armed and ready and up to your ears in straw cups and tiny containers filled with crackers), and explaining to Saoirse again that we were meeting up with her grandmother and uncle at another aunt and uncle’s house, and that she and Quinn would be spending the evening with her Aunt Mary and Gram while her dad and I went to a football game with some other family members. “But, Mom,” she said, “I don’t want you to leave me.  I’m going to miss you.” I told her that I’d miss her, too, but that we would really only be gone a few hours after her bedtime, and that we’d be there when she woke up in the morning.  So, off we went, to southern Maryland, home of Andrews Air Force base and old plantation houses and, of course, FedEx Field, where our beloved Fighting Irish were beating…