God Talk and Tea

St. Paddy's Day can be everyday with a sainted Irish dad

Well, I missed my chance for a St. Paddy’s Day blog post in honor of my sainted dad, Eddie Clifford, but the magic of leprechauns that lived in his heart is not a
one-day kind of magic, so today’s the day.

I never met my grandfather, my father’s father. He hailed from County Cork, Ireland, but was murdered here in the U.S. when my dad was just seven years old. They found his body floating in the Hudson River.

I didn’t know that until I was an adult. I chastised my father for never telling me about his father and he, the typical Irishman, replied, “You never asked.”

I imagine my father’s love for all things Irish, and his delightful gift of storytelling came from his father, who worked in a cemetery and dug graves. 

My dad could keep a table full of guests enthralled and laughing for hours or enchant them with stories of his dad bringing home old wood, possibly old caskets, for the wood stove and my grandmother throwing him and the wood out the door. 

She’d rather be cold than warm the house with wood from someone’s casket, she would say. It was bad luck, and might bring the devil down on the house!

My father spent a lifetime saving money to visit his father’s Ireland, and when he did, he came back elated, except for one thing. He had lost a roll of film from Blarney Castle because of the shenanigans of a leprechaun he had the unexpected pleasure of meeting.

He had gone to a dinner, complete with lively Irish music, in Blarney Castle with my uncle, Donald, and stepped outside for a breath of air. There, at the bottom of the steps, was an unusually small man with an equally unusual appearance.

My dad struck up a conversation with the visitor, who at some point offered my dad a pipe. Not being a smoker, my dad turned him down but asked if he could take his photo instead.  They were having a grand ol’ time, each with their own unique gift of gab, and he wanted a keepsake of their time together.

The wizened man smiled, so my dad snapped his picture. When he lowered the camera, the little man was gone. But there, on the steps, was a shillelagh. My dad brought it home with him.

 When my father took the role of film to be developed, it was blank, so his trip to Blarney Castle was something for which he would have to rely on memory.  When he died, I inherited the shillelagh.

Today I’m making our corned beef and cabbage dinner that we couldn’t have yesterday.  I can just imagine dad sitting in the living room recliner, appreciating the aroma while enjoying a cup of coffee, followed by “just a half-
cup” so as not to spoil dinner.

He would be carefully perusing the Sunday paper or enjoying the latest in British comedies, his shillelagh resting
in the corner of the room.

Miss you dad. I hope you and Uncle Donald are celebrating with the angels.

Book review: Things My Father Taught Me About Love

‘Things My Father Taught Me About Love’ opens the heart 

By Lois Rogers/Correspondent

In her small book, “Things My Father Taught Me about Love,” author, editor and educator Mary Regina Morrell offers a bouquet of insights on faith, spirituality and family life gleaned from her own garden.

Brushed with humor, tenderness and a sense of reverence for the way small and meaningful moments can illuminate life, Morrell’s 54-page book opens the door to her world and bids readers come inside and experience the spiritual gifts of her loving father.

Over the years, she has shared these lessons with readers of her award-winning, syndicated column, “Things My Father Taught Me,” which weaves together insights drawn from life as daughter, wife, mother of six and friend to many.

In what she calls “just a snippet of our lives, a whirlwind of blessing and loss, joy and heartbreak, grief, frustration and accomplishment,” Morrell gifts us with endearing glimpses into her own life, and a reflection of our own.

She begins with a simple litany of these gifts which run the gamut from doing good and loving well to laughing often as we embrace the mystery of God.

Traveling with her in the all-too-brief pages, we see the possibilities that emerge as “life unfolds while we are not looking.”

The landscape Morrell creates winds through the garden nurtured by her father which, in turn, inspired her boundless ability to marvel at God’s creation.

It surfaces in a pond full of koi where, leaning over to view the aquatic parade, her own reflection in the water brings to mind the myth of Narcissus – the Greek youth in love with his own image. She notes presciently how this ancient and sometimes fatal character flaw seems sadly to be “flourishing in this day and age.”

It’s a vision that ranges from pathos – Morrell writes movingly of the deaths of her parents – to the joy experienced when the ordinary suddenly becomes extraordinary; the immeasurable gratitude of a friend, for instance, when one of her six sons bestows upon him a huge container of cannoli cream rescued from the shore bakery where he worked as it closed for the winter.

Morrell’s fluid and approachable style is, in itself, a gift to readers. She’s able to weave a considerable body of knowledge drawn from studies in Siena College, Loudonville, N.Y., and Felician University, Lodi, as well as a master’s degree from Seton Hall University, South Orange, into a book filled with basics that everyone can savor.

In demand as a speaker and catechetical consultant, she begins each entry with a quote, drawing mostly from Scripture, the saints or Catholic apologists including G.K. Chesterton and Thomas Hardy.

Opportunities to pause and enter into prayer and reflection with excerpts from the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, provide welcome respite in these troubled times.

Rabbi Irwin Kula, author of “Yearnings: Embracing the Sacred the Messiness of Life,” captured the essence of this book in his endorsement: “If you want to find God, know love, and truly understand these are the same, read this beautiful book. But be prepared to have your heart opened up, to laugh and to cry, to take many deep breaths of awe and wonder, and to shout out to the Heavens and to the people in your life, ‘Thank You! Hallelujah!’ What a perfect dose of grace this book is for people of all backgrounds.”

“Things My Father Taught Me,” with cover designed by award-winning graphic artist Clara Baumann, is available on Amazon as an e-book.                                                                                                                                    

Morrell's newest book, "Let Go and Live" is scheduled for release in the fall.

Lois M. Rogers is a long-time journalist and creator of “Keeping the Feast,” an award winning blog on food, faith and family.

 Mary Morrell is a life-long writer who has served as associate director of religious education in the Diocese of Metuchen; assistant editor and catechetical consultant for RENEW International; managing editor of The Monitor, the official newspaper of the Diocese of Trenton, and is author of Angels in High Top Sneakers, Loyola Press. She may be reached at [email protected], and read at her blog, God Talk and Tea.