a note to the boys of greenwood glen
a rant:
if you want to be a cheesey folk band with schtick and white snake-skin cowboy boots, that's ok. do your thing. i'm ok; you're ok; we're all ok. to each his own. etc. right?
just don't call yourself an "irish band" when your version of "that's another reason why i left Old Skibbereen" sounds like a stupid song from "a mighty wind." you are more a christopher guest than a chieftan.
on disappointment:
i've been told that i am a person who is often disappointed. i never let anyone know that they have disappointed me. i don't know why. i think it has something to do with them, then, having power over me. i really don't know.
when i am disappointed, though, i can't let go of the dream that has been dashed.
i was going to see an irish band tonight. i've known and looked to and counted on that fact all week. they would probably play the irish rover and get to heaven half an hour before the devil knows you are dead. i would sing along. maybe they would even sing wild rover and we would all wave our glasses in the air as we sang along and i dreampt that i was actually in ireland - in a place where life will be better - a place i dream of nearly every night - a place i've hidden many lonely or disappointing nights. i would eat clam chowder and have a bailey's coffee.
what happened? the band was not irish. they just weren't. they were infuriatingly un-irish. the bailey's coffee was horrible. there was no chowder. the fish and chips i ordered ended up making me feel sick. i could not picture being in ireland. nothing felt like home. it was not a dream.
but i clung. as my friends told me how miserable i looked, i clung: "maybe they will play the irish rover. even they can't make that un-irish." but they could and they would have if i didn't finally allow the dream to end and leave me unsatisfied and, once again, disappointed.
similarly, i just got an invitation to my 5 year college reunion. i'm a nanny and a failed youth minister. i have one graduate degree, but its nearly useless to me. i'm in school, and not doing much. i was going to graduate seminary at 23 and be in the mission field (ireland) for two years. i would be married and adopting my first child within a year. i have failed my dreams. more disappointment. always disappointment.
what will it mean to learn to live in disappointment? will i still have hope? will i cling to dying dreams? will i find something other than disappointment in a present that is nothing like the future i had dreamed it would be? will find fulfillment in being a nanny? will i be satisfied in my roles of friend, pastor, god-mother, unofficial aunt (the girl i nanny calls me "aunt becky"), social activist, dreamer, unpublished author, student, and yearning revolutionary?
tonight i am disappointed in the boys of greenwood glen and am finding fellowship and love with my friends...little lost and much gained.
3 comments:
what part of their description did you miss? they do not claim to be an Irish band. They claim to be a Drinking Band with an Irish problem'. Not the Rovers. they do cover several Gaelic Storm tunes, but a drinking band will play drinking songs from Hank to Merle to Buc to Gaelic Storm. So get over yourself people and have some fun.
wow. so i posted this three years ago and you're giving me a rude comment today...ok.
your blog post is relevant every day somebody looks for the boys of greenwood glen on a search engine. I am glad that they made this defense of the boys of greenwood glen, it rang very true. Blame not the band but the promoter who booked them to play at an irish bar. If you want some ultra traditional irish experience maybe you should look harder. Also the comment left by anonymous wasn't really rude or at least not as rude as your undeserving criticism of this band, who I just saw at folk life and are deserving of praise in my opinion. I'm certain if they played in a bar in Ireland that everybody would have a lot of fun and get drunk just like normal. If you were there you'd probably still find a reason to be sad/angry!
Post a Comment