The Shamrock Bow Tie
On Wednesday nights my ten year-old daughter Lauren has a writing class that is attended by the child and one parent. Perhaps 100 people, about eight to a table, listen to a teacher talk about aspects of good writing, with references to examples from well-known authors. Then the teacher provides a very general topic and everyone is given perhaps ten minutes to write a short piece. Everyone at the table reads their piece aloud to everyone else at their table, and then a small number of volunteers read their piece to the larger assembled group.
Last week we were told to bring items of clothing that had a special meaning. The teacher asked everyone to write down on an index card what the item was, whose it was, and when it is (or was) worn. She gave the entire group time to go around the room and look at the items of clothing. There were items of jewelry or fragile articles of clothing handed down through several generations. There was an old Russian soldier’s hat from World War I. There was a Girl Scout sash from the younger days of one of the mothers. And so on. The writing and the readings aside, this was an unforgettable experience.
Lauren brought a shoe she wore when she was a baby.
I brought my dad’s shamrock bow tie.
We were asked to write a short piece about our article of clothing. Because of the time taken to look at the items of clothing, there was little time to share readings with the entire audience.
Afterwards Lauren insisted that I read mine to the teacher, individually. So I did. This is what I had written:
The child’s name was Patrick.
It almost wasn’t, but his dad rescued the name. His mother had wanted to name him “John” — and she believed she had won the battle when she had secured her husband’s agreement to name the child “John Patrick.” But her husband mounted a counterattack. In flagrant violation of the usual conventions relating to names, he insisted on calling the child by his middle name: “Patrick.” The child’s mother resisted for a brief period of time — until the final betrayal. Her own mother joined forces with the child’s father, and began also to call the child by the name “Patrick.” Not wishing to inflict psychological harm upon the child by calling him by two different names, the child’s mother surrendered.
“Patrick” it was.
The child’s father had been born on St. Patrick’s Day — a fact that the child’s mother suspected was the explanation for her husband’s fierce attachment to the name.
Like all children, Patrick realized that he had been placed at the center of the universe. When his father’s birthday arrived every year, Patrick was clever enough to realize that the day was his special day as much as his father’s. After all, his name was right there in the name of the day. Luckily, his parents were also perceptive enough to understand that the world did indeed revolve around their son (although, unlike Patrick, they also believed that it revolved around their other children as well). They agreed, therefore, that St. Patrick’s Day was Patrick’s day as much as — or really more than — his father’s.
Patrick reaped the benefits in the form of presents.
When the child became a man, his father became an old man. In the meantime, Patrick’s father had developed an affinity for bow ties. He was especially proud of one such bow tie: a green shamrock bow tie. Patrick’s father wore that shamrock bow tie every St. Patrick’s Day.
One March 17, Patrick’s father was no longer around to wear the bow tie. And so Patrick received another present.
He wears it every year, on the day that he and his father shared.
The teacher asked me if I would be willing to read the piece to open the next session. I thought about it and realized that would be today: St. Patrick’s Day.
How could I pass up the chance to share my father’s memory with a large group of people on his birthday?
And so, Lauren and I will go to the class tonight. I will wear the green tie, and hold the yellow piece of paper, and try to read with a strong voice. I think he really would have liked that.
Best wishes on your shared day, Patrick.
I miss mine too.
SPQR (26be8b) — 3/17/2010 @ 5:04 pmMe too…
Steve G (7d4c78) — 3/17/2010 @ 5:06 pmBeautifully written, Patrick.
Dad has been gone 23 years. I
cave1616 (710dbc) — 3/17/2010 @ 5:41 pmmiss him still.
Outstanding.
Stashiu3 (44da70) — 3/17/2010 @ 5:43 pmDamn it! The older I get the more teary-eyed I become when I read stories of real men and their values. What ever happened to virtues such as duty, honor and self reliance? I’m convinced these are the unstated, but explicit, lessons your father left for you with just a simple example of manhood. But that we could return to the stand up straight, hold your head high values of our greatest generation. Patrick, I don’t know if your father was a veteran and a patriot but he held all of the values of both. God bless the Irish. God bless yor father. And God bless America!
paul s (8ce79d) — 3/17/2010 @ 5:58 pmThat brought a tear to my eye, too, and I’m also glad it’s important to Lauren.
DRJ (daa62a) — 3/17/2010 @ 6:12 pmI’m honored to be, however tangentially, in John Patrick’s universe.
Ed from SFV (7f3244) — 3/17/2010 @ 6:17 pmThanks Dan. This story made me reflect on my dads life and death.
mike191 (5f2170) — 3/17/2010 @ 6:17 pmVery charming and sweet. Made my day 🙂
Richard Romano (5cff42) — 3/17/2010 @ 6:17 pmLovely, Patrick. This is my day too!
Patricia (e1047e) — 3/17/2010 @ 6:31 pmThanks for sharing this, P.
Makes me want to call my old man and do a better job of appreciating him while he’s here.
Myron (a79d53) — 3/17/2010 @ 6:50 pmThank you, Sir.
Machinist (9780ec) — 3/17/2010 @ 6:51 pmMyron,
Good idea. You might be grateful.
I had become quite distant from my folks but the last couple of years before they passed I became closer and spent much more time with them. I have been very glad I did so these last six years.
Machinist (9780ec) — 3/17/2010 @ 6:55 pmIt’s important to value your loved ones and never take them for granted. Stories like yours, Patterico, help us to remember that principle.
My brother’s wife passed away a couple of months ago, and I am spending a few days with him now. It’s understandable that he has good days and bad days. But at least they told each other how much they mattered to one another before the end.
So even when my parents are difficult, I try to remember that I won’t have them forever. Every time we speak or visit, I insist that my mother, father, or brother tell one “good” story of our times together as a family.
I enjoyed your story, and am happy you have a talisman of what seemed to be a remarkable man who helped raise you.
Good night.
Eric Blair (2fc1ba) — 3/17/2010 @ 6:59 pm12 years for me. When something good happens in my life it’s still my first instinct: tell Dad. And I still do.
EBJ (f11809) — 3/17/2010 @ 7:11 pmGreat story Patterico. Thanks for sharing.
daleyrocks (718861) — 3/17/2010 @ 7:38 pmAs you shared with me something you shared with your father, I wish to return the gift…something I shared with my father…
Semper Fidelis….
reff
reff (176333) — 3/17/2010 @ 7:51 pmThanks for sharing this, P.
Makes me want to call my old man and do a better job of appreciating him while he’s here.
It would make me very happy if you would do that and come back to tell me you did.
Patterico (c218bd) — 3/17/2010 @ 8:06 pmWonderfully told, sir. I, too, am called by my middle name. Didn’t have a problem with that until USMC boot camp. There I was, standing at attention, and the DI started calling out my father’s name, repeatedly. I thought that was very strange, someone in the company had the same name as my father, what a small world. It wasn’t until he was in my face demanding to know if I knew what my own name was that I made the association. I still don’t answer to it unless I know I’m likely to be called by it.
htom (412a17) — 3/17/2010 @ 8:13 pmBeautiful. I lost my dad 18 years ago on March 30. I still miss him every day. Thank you for writing this.
ceoshea (996c34) — 3/17/2010 @ 8:16 pmThank you. I lost my Dad just almost 3 yrs ago, end of March 2006. I miss him so. Yes to those that still have a parent or a sibling. Call and tell them you love them.
LYNNDH (8d8b19) — 3/17/2010 @ 8:20 pmGood on ya, John Patrick Frey!
AD - RtR/OS! (bdaa22) — 3/17/2010 @ 8:57 pmSomewhere, a proud father is smiling, and dancing a jig.
What? All that, and no picture of the bow tie?
Either on you (too close to see the face, if it’s a privacy matter) or on your dad?
😀
IgotBupkis (79d71d) — 3/18/2010 @ 2:44 amNice. Nicely penned as well.
A memorable ‘creative writing’ exercise from long ago involved the teacher walking into the classroom, placing an empty, old-styled, classic glass Coca-Cola bottle on a desk and directing students to write a description of it so a reader would recognize what it was without actually saying it was a Coke bottle in the text. And in 20 minutes. Try it.
DCSCA (9d1bb3) — 3/18/2010 @ 2:49 amDamn, now I’m choked up. Great story & onderful work.
JEA (cfcb76) — 3/18/2010 @ 4:12 amWhen Patrick was little, he was like most other 2 year olds and had difficulty pronouncing his name properly. It came out as “Pack-it”. That year, as I remember, we celebrated Dad’s birthday on St. Packit’s Day. I’m sure the class last night was blessed with the story, and that it was a “St. Packit’s” Day that Lauren will remember her whole life.
Brotherico (60406d) — 3/18/2010 @ 4:28 amDang it! I’m tearing up. Thank you for that story.
PatriotRider (103218) — 3/18/2010 @ 5:47 amPatrick, please come back and tell us about the reading….
If it’s not too close to home….
reff
reff (b996d9) — 3/18/2010 @ 7:39 ambest wishes tonight, something you kid will remember and make her own traditions
EricPWJohnson (1edc81) — 3/18/2010 @ 8:27 amYour father would be proud.
Dudeman (b50a96) — 3/18/2010 @ 8:43 amWhat a great story.
David M (447675) — 3/18/2010 @ 10:51 amThank you! Love, Mom
Mom (ccce71) — 3/21/2010 @ 5:15 amAnd how did the reading go?
yourlilsis (424a94) — 3/22/2010 @ 12:54 pm(One of the other kids in the family…who wasn’t lucky enough to have the universe revolve around me) :o)