But These Go to Eleven

At the risk of upsetting dad, I must relate a story. He stubbornly will not admit that he needs a hearing aid. Once upon a time he struggled to hear in situations where there was background noise. Those days are long gone. Now he he struggles all the time and generally just talks too loudly. This is all part of his campaign to pretend he's still in his 30s. I was 13 years old before I realized my dad was claiming to turn 29 for about the tenth consecutive year.

As an example, when he and little brother arrived, he excitedly prodded little brother to "tell Pat what that woman on the bus said!" After several eye rolls, little brother told me how an elderly lady on the bus from the airport to town asked whether they were in Ireland on vacation ("holiday"). Yes, little brother explained, he was in town to visit his brother who was studying at the college (me). Confusing the story, the woman pointed to dad and asked, "well, isn't this your brother here?" At the end of the story dad looks at me with that urgent 'how-about-that' look. I was reminded how, oftentimes, dad will introduce me to women he fancys as his brother.

"Did she actually get a good look at you?" I chided dad.

"To be fair, she was probably blind," he admitted, in a rare moment of self-deprecation.

Anyway, the story is about our trip to O'Connell's bar on the west side of town. Dad was on a bit of a high his entire time in Ireland, usually evidenced by his responding to a bartender's 'how are you' with something like 'tremendous!' or 'excellent!' As we walked along the beach on Galway Bay, we approached an old man with a cane and an overcoat. In a voice about four degrees too loud, my father essentially shouted at the man: "EVENING!" The man's head snapped back in a way that was probably dangerous for someone his age, and he hurried along with his cane, no doubt wondering why the strange American was mad at him.

"These people aren't as friendly as everyone says," my father said disgustedly.

When we arrived at O'Connell's I was a bit disappointed as the large barroom was almost empty. Two old men were at the bar and a quiet group were at a corner table. The attraction to O'Connell's is the extensive antiques collection scattered about the bar. The walls and ceiling are covered with odd items. It's a unique place that often has music and encourages dancing - it even has sawdust on its hardwood floors.

As we entered, again in a voice that was hard to believe he could muster without actually shouting, he said, "WHY IS THERE ALL THIS CRAP EVERYWHERE? AND WHY THE HELL IS THERE SNOW ON THE FLOOR?" Everyone in the bar stopped what they were doing to see the loud Yanks making their entrance.

Matching his volume, I answered, "WHEN WE GET YOU BACK TO THE HOME I'M GOING TO INSIST THEY ADJUST YOUR HEARING AIDS."

He was pretty mad, but it was worth it for the comedy. I wonder if he'll be more mad when he reads it in print...