Dyeing for an Irish Romance

“Be ready right at 6:30,” Katie grabbed her phone and replied to Eva’s text, “OK”. Katie untowelled her wet hair. Something caught her eye.

“Are you kidding me?” Katie wiped the condensation off the mirror and stared at her newly dyed hair. “No, this can’t be.” She looked at the hair dye box to see if it was “Dark Mahogany”. It was. She glared back at the mirror. “What the heck?” She dried her hair, and it was more brilliant auburn than when it was wet.

“Oh no, not tonight.” That red hair must’ve unearthed some determined indignation in her and she decided to make it right. She rolled up her long hair into a Giants baseball cap and headed out to the health food store.

“Can I help you?” the friendly clerk asked Katie. “Yes, I bought this henna yesterday. And it’s the wrong color. See on the box, it’s supposed to be Dark Mahogany. But it’s not…” The clerk interrupted her, “You need to go to the back counter and talk to the manager.”

“Thanks,” she replied. As she walked to the back of the store, she passed by the hair care section to retrieve a replacement box. She stared at the shelves, and of course there were no Dark Mahogany’s.

“Oh man…” she humphed.

At the back counter, she looked around for someone to help her. She noticed the small bell and gave it a good whack.

Out from the back office a man emerged whom Katie had never seen before. She was taken aback by his scruffy good looks, clear blue eyes and his more than adequate height. And on top of that, he greeted her with a lilting Irish brogue.

“Yes, love, what can I do for you?”

She bristled at the salutation. “I bought this Dark Mahogany henna yesterday and my hair has turned red. I’d like another one, please.”

“Of course, love. Let’s check the shelves and get you taken care of.” The manager motioned to go to the aisles.

Katie stopped him, “No, no, I already looked and there’s no Dark Mahogany.”

“Is there another color you’d prefer?” he asked politely.

“No, I want my Dark Mahogany. I’ve got an important party tonight; I need my regular color.” She insisted.

“Why not a nice auburn? That would bring out your lovely eyes.” He suggested.

Indignantly, she replied, “Auburn! You mean red, like this??” She flung off her baseball cap and her brilliant red tresses fell over her shoulders. He was stunned at her beauty.

“As you can see Mister….”

“Declan” he finished her sentence.

“As you can see, Mr. Declan…” He cut her off again. “No, no, my first name is Declan.”

“OK, Declan,” she became flustered, “what’s that Irish?”

“Ah, a smart lassie you are.” He grinned at her still enamored by her beauty.

“OK, Irish Declan…can you check the back for some Dark Mahogany, please?” Katie was flustered, exasperated and needed to get home.

“If you don’t mind me sayin’, that’s a lovely color on ya.”

“Thank you,” she sputtered nervously, “but I just need my regular color, please, I’m in a hurry.”

“Sure, love, I’ll check.” Declan retreated to the back of the store. Katie tried to compose herself. She found a mirror and touched up her face. The red was pretty, and it did bring out her green eyes. But there was no way she could go to the St. Patrick’s Day party looking like this.

Declan returned with a box of Dark Mahogany.

“Fuair mé é.” Declan exclaimed in Gaelic. Seeing Katie’s confused look, he translated, “I found it.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Not at all,” Declan smiled, and her knees went weak. “I like the red though, love.”

“Please don’t call me love.” Her cheeks burned redder than her hair.

Katie rushed home. In the bathroom, she looked at her hair, and it didn’t seem to repulse her anymore. She looked more like her mother with this shade. She remembered what Declan said about it too. Boy, what a handsome Irishman, she thought.

Again, the magic of the red hair worked on her and she decided to keep it red.

Katie was already to go when Eva rang the doorbell.

“What’ve you have done to your hair?” Eva exclaimed.

“I accidentally dyed it red… but I like it.”

“It looks good; by the way, Brian brought his cousin. I think you’ll like him.”

“Eva…come on, not again.” They went to the car, and Katie hopped in back.

“Ahhh, fancy meeting you here, and you with the red hair…” Declan’s warm blue eyes beamed as she scooted next to him.

“You’re the cousin?” Katie smiled blushingly. “Just my Irish luck.”

“Mine too,” Declan responded and grabbed her hand and kissed it.

Image generated by AI in Canva

I Will Go…

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March 2018

I’ve had the great pleasure these past few days of enjoying the splendid music of the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem. How I overlooked these guys is beyond me. Come most Januarys, when the hills in Pacifica are at their greenest, I begin listening to my favorite Irish songs. Leading up to March 17, most days are sprinkled with various renditions of “Only Our Rivers are Free”, “The Town I Loved So Well”, “Danny Boy”, of course, and many other musical nuggets I’ve extracted and cherished over the years.

This year, I’ve been listening to songs of the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem. What led me here was a cover of “Red is the Rose” by Anthony Kearns (one of the Irish Tenors) that serendipitously appeared on my Pandora autoplay. I youtubed it and found a stirring cover by the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem which, of course, led me to other songs. My new favorite song is “Will Ye Go, Lassie, Go?” sung sweetly by Tommy and the brothers.

The tune and the tempo remind me of that lovely, traditional Scottish melody “Loch Lomond”, a song me and my river mates would sing while making our way back to my cabin which sits on the bonnie braes of the Russian River in Guerneville, CA; we could take the high road off Leasowe Lane (up to Drake Road) or stay on the low gravelled road to the cabin. Maybe it’s that tune that stirs this deep feeling in me.

However, it’s the song’s sweet, innocent lyrics that capture this old, romantic’s soul especially as it’s sung to the hauntingly, beautiful tempo of the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem.

lassie

Now, granted, I’m a tad old to be pining for a laddie to lure me to the mountains; yet, the lyrics remind me of another old, older love song, one that can be translated into a spiritual hope, a future journey. In Song of Solomon, the Shulamite woman tells us:

“My beloved responded and said to me, ‘Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, And come along. For behold, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone. The flowers have already appeared in the land; the time has arrived for pruning the vines, and the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land. The fig tree has ripened its figs, and the vines in blossom have given forth their fragrance. Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come away!”      – Song of Solomon 2:10-13

Will this lassie go? I will go, someday. Someday, He will call me home…where maybe there’ll be blooming heather growing near the wild mountain thyme. Who knows what eternity will be like? Solomon said, “He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts…”. We are made for eternity, and I believe eternity will be beautiful too. Music like this song is eternal.

That is our hope in Jesus Christ. He said, “And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the Only True God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.” He is the Resurrection and the Life. This Lenten season, this St. Patrick’s Day, let us remember who calls us beloved, who calls us to come and follow Him, and who went to prepare a bower (place) for us. Let us remember the good news Patrick went to Ireland to share.

In this life, we only skip along the outskirts of eternity.  I hope we don’t get distracted by all the things of this world, the things that will pass away. Songs like “Will Ye Go, Lassie, Go?” remind us how powerful music is and how some songs transcend time. They skirt the mountains of eternity and call us to come. Will ye go, Lassie, Laddie, will ye go?

    “Come away, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the mountain of spices.” 

Song of Solomon 8:14