Quite Contrary

You know, there are a lot of choices out there if you want to give your kid an Irish name, some great, unpronounceable, mythology-laden stuff out there. It's a pity that trend didn't catch on, say, 60 years ago in Ireland, because then I would be spared the confusion of a thousand Mary Ryans or Thomas Ryans or John Ryans. I mean, I get tradition and everything, but fer chrissakes. And then, the John Ryans seem to marry more Marys, and then name their daughters Mary, and now my head is going to explode.

All this actually might have been moderately helpful if the lovely family tree I found in a relative's scrapbook had to do with Dad's side of the family, not the side his Aunt May (real name, naturally, Mary) married into. I'm rather irrationally jealous of how far back the Ryan family can trace ancestors (although, theoretically, they could just say they're related a Thomas Ryan from 1800 whatever, and pretty soon they'd hit one of the fish in the barrel.

Had a nice lunch with Dad today, who's in one of his reminiscing moods because he and Mom attended Jack's memorial service yesterday. Whenever we two go out to lunch, talk invariably turns to the Ryan family or his life in Ireland, so I knew this would be a productive meal. I snuck out my little purse notebook and took haphazard notes because he speaks more freely when he's just rambling, rather than when I try to steer his reminisces with questions. As soon as I tried to do that today, he protested that he didn't remember stuff. I think he remembers more than he says - it's a matter of unearthing them, I think. This is a tricky dance I'm attempting with a pseudo-reluctant partner.

Mom saw an article in the paper a couple of days ago about a woman who was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer, so she decided to host her own living wake. She said she always wanted to attend her own funeral and hear the nice things people would have to say. Then, after Mom told me about this article, she said this big multi-person birthday party we're having this fall would be like - a celebration for Dad. I don't want to think about that yet.