To be a Pollack in a town full of Mick's can be challenging at times.....but our Father lends me strength.
Earlier this week I went to The University Club in Saint Paul.
Basically the place is a mansion on top of Summit Hill, and was built for the "Blue Bloods" of Capitol City.
Sure, there's still "Old Money" that hangs out there, but at the same time it isn't all that uncommon to find people making cab drivers wages attending there as well.
In today's economic environment, decadence needs to diversify to pay the bills.
So much of what was important to the moral fiber of my parents, and theirs too, seem to be slipping into the mists of Avalon.
A city once comprised of ruddy complected Irish folks, now has additional color in it's bouquet now that the Hmong's, Hispanics and Russians have staked out credible chunks of turf in the (651).
I think the change is great, but a part of me understands that people dislike change, just because change demands patience and understanding.
At the upstairs bar of the University Club you can stare out the windows and at a skyline that is impressive and quaint all in one breath.
The lights don't stack high like the skyscrapers in NYC or Chi-Town, but they do bounce off the Mississippi River dropping an Urban / Northern Lights kinda vibe.
The bartender slides me a Rusty Nail while Father Gillespie appears to have ordered a Rum on the rocks.
And for just a split second I found myself savoring this moment knowing that soon, cocktailing with a Mick Priest will be as likely as calling my girlfriends on a rotary phone, or crossing the territory in a covered wagon.
Even though this city was built on the blood-sweat and tears of the Irish, there time of dominance is drawing near it's ends.
As I take a belt, my bar mates are quiet and my mind began to drift to thoughts of what it must have been like to witness the Roman Empire as it segued into Byzantine occupation, or what was Moscow like as the Germans gained a stronghold during the big one?
So although I was drinking a cocktail that had the kick of a donkey aerobic instructor...my mood was sober.
Leave it to a Mick priest to disrupt the mood......
Father Gillespie says.......
"Well I have some bad news to report. A Father friend of my has passed on some evidence that all but assures me that the Christ must have actually been a Lutheran."
Everybody at the bar wrinkled their brow and went drop jaw in unison.
The Priest continued.
"This Priest friend of mine, he was in charge of a church in Norway for visiting Catholics, and was asked by a local Lutheran Pontiff or such, if he knew how Christ could feed thousands of people with just a couple of fish? The Catholic Priest confessed he had no idea, and with great delight, the Lutheran explained how the Christ served Lutefisk, knowing no one would dare touch it, and therefore Jesus had to be a Norse!"
Everybody at the bar raised their drink in the air to toast Father Gillespie's yarn, knowing this may have been the only time the Lutheran's had brought them joy.
Dear Polish Jesus, a word of wisdom to us all......
Father Klecko
Earlier this week I went to The University Club in Saint Paul.
Basically the place is a mansion on top of Summit Hill, and was built for the "Blue Bloods" of Capitol City.
Sure, there's still "Old Money" that hangs out there, but at the same time it isn't all that uncommon to find people making cab drivers wages attending there as well.
In today's economic environment, decadence needs to diversify to pay the bills.
So much of what was important to the moral fiber of my parents, and theirs too, seem to be slipping into the mists of Avalon.
A city once comprised of ruddy complected Irish folks, now has additional color in it's bouquet now that the Hmong's, Hispanics and Russians have staked out credible chunks of turf in the (651).
I think the change is great, but a part of me understands that people dislike change, just because change demands patience and understanding.
At the upstairs bar of the University Club you can stare out the windows and at a skyline that is impressive and quaint all in one breath.
The lights don't stack high like the skyscrapers in NYC or Chi-Town, but they do bounce off the Mississippi River dropping an Urban / Northern Lights kinda vibe.
The bartender slides me a Rusty Nail while Father Gillespie appears to have ordered a Rum on the rocks.
And for just a split second I found myself savoring this moment knowing that soon, cocktailing with a Mick Priest will be as likely as calling my girlfriends on a rotary phone, or crossing the territory in a covered wagon.
Even though this city was built on the blood-sweat and tears of the Irish, there time of dominance is drawing near it's ends.
As I take a belt, my bar mates are quiet and my mind began to drift to thoughts of what it must have been like to witness the Roman Empire as it segued into Byzantine occupation, or what was Moscow like as the Germans gained a stronghold during the big one?
So although I was drinking a cocktail that had the kick of a donkey aerobic instructor...my mood was sober.
Leave it to a Mick priest to disrupt the mood......
Father Gillespie says.......
"Well I have some bad news to report. A Father friend of my has passed on some evidence that all but assures me that the Christ must have actually been a Lutheran."
Everybody at the bar wrinkled their brow and went drop jaw in unison.
The Priest continued.
"This Priest friend of mine, he was in charge of a church in Norway for visiting Catholics, and was asked by a local Lutheran Pontiff or such, if he knew how Christ could feed thousands of people with just a couple of fish? The Catholic Priest confessed he had no idea, and with great delight, the Lutheran explained how the Christ served Lutefisk, knowing no one would dare touch it, and therefore Jesus had to be a Norse!"
Everybody at the bar raised their drink in the air to toast Father Gillespie's yarn, knowing this may have been the only time the Lutheran's had brought them joy.
Dear Polish Jesus, a word of wisdom to us all......
Father Klecko
Wow. Now that is advanced biblical theory. Someone please let Harvard know.
ReplyDelete8^)
ReplyDelete