A Norwegian Viking in The Irish Store

 A Walk through a Mickey Market.

We were visiting one of the cute seaside towns and decided to walk the main street. It was a pleasant day. Audrey noticed an Irish gift shop. She wanted to go inside.

Both of Audrey’s parents were born in Norway. She did not know the nuances of Irish things. I was less enthusiastic, seeing as the preferred market are people trying to prove how Irish they are, even if their family has been in the United States since the Potato Famine (1838).

We went in the cute little shop. A couple of skinny little Irish women were behind the counter. Audrey noticed a little statue of a leprechaun that looked like Uncle Patty. This was the start of the journey.

Next, Audrey saw a sign advertising “Irish Fashions.” This piqued her interest. She hurried to the racks with Irish clothes. Irish fashion? If you are of Irish ancestry, think of the frumpy clothes your great aunts wore to indulge in the Hibernian science of Bingo. That’s right: Irish fashion is Old Lady’s Bingo clothes.

Irish Fashion

Then Audrey noticed the various tins of crackers and “cookies.” “These look interesting,” she said.

Yeah, interesting like the old Chinese curse: ‘May you live in interesting times.”

I remember a sunny day when I was about 5 years old, My grandmother had taken my brother and I when she visited our great aunt. Aunt Kathleen was an off-the boat genuine Irish harp-ette. She brought out a platter of crackers for us. Crackers? We knew what those things were.

Before we could refuse, our grandmother said, “Take one and say thank you!”

We were trapped. In Irish culture, it is considered unforgivable to refuse food. Any food. Even those Irish crackers that, when chewed, were like munching on large-sized aquarium gravel.

And here I was, watching my wife look at tins of these jawbreakers. Aaaagh!

Next Audrey looked at the shelves of Waterford Crystal. It used to be made by Irishmen in Ireland. (I heard that nowadays, a lot of it is made in China by Chinamen.) She saw large crystal urns.

“Oh, look at those. Are they vases? They must be made for huge bouquets.”

“No,” I replied. “Those are all whiskey decanters.” I replied. After all, these were made for Irish people, not a bunch of tee-totalers.

Then Audrey’s gaze fixed on a glass model of the Titanic. She has always been fascinated by the whole Titanic story. In fact, she must have seen the movie about 16 times.

“Why would they have a model of the Titanic?” she asked.

“Well, it was an English ship...” I replied.

“So?” she said.

“And it sunk.” Audrey understood, since she knew about the old feuds between the Irish and English.

As we were getting ready to leave, Audrey noticed Claddagh rings behind the one counter. She thought they were romantic.

“How wonderful,” she said. “Are these for married people?” she asked.

“No, they are made to sell to Americans trying to prove how Irish they are.”

So ended Audrey’s first tour through Irish boutique culture.

Note that people from Ireland do not buy that stuff. They think it is hokey crap. The Irish make it to sell to Americans, Canadians, New Zealanders and Australians of Irish ancestry. These people think that having these things makes them more Irish. Like I implied before, how Irish can they be if their families have been living outside of Ireland since 1838? Or in the case of latecomers, since the Civil War?

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There was a so-called Irish store in another town and Audrey wanted at look. It had the usual gee-gaws and souvenirs and all. In one corner was a glass-topped counter that had Civil War items. There were odd pieces of brass, cap badges and such.

Audrey was curious as to why an Irish store would sell Civil War relics. I explained that a large number of soldiers on both sides were Irish.

The store did not feel right. The fellow behind the counter got talking to us. He mentioned that he was Polish, not Irish. It turns out that he also did not understand some of the nuances of Irish stuff.

We left and shook our heads. It has to be the screwiest Irish store I ever saw. In a genre of screwy stores, that is saying a lot.

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If you enjoyed this story, please read some of the other articles in this blog.