Fantasy Ireland

With not much on us except for the clothes on our backs, Billie and I headed south on Drury Street to visit Trinity college, the oldest university in the city. As we continued our journey over a stretch of unfriendly cobblestones, the wheelchair I pushed jostled considerably. Fortunately, there was smooth pavement across the road, which proved to be more manageable and less harsh on our backs. I thought of all the exciting sights that we had seen and even some of the buildings we passed and felt my chest swell with Irish pride"wait"make that third-generation Irish-American pride (if there is such a thing).    I leaned down to see that the passenger in the chair had loosened her grip on both armrests and asked,"Better?"     Billie nodded and turned to me, saying "much better. I think if we had stayed on those cobblestones any longer, I would have needed either an emergency bathroom break or a new dress. Take your pick."     I laughed and bent down closer to suggest "Let's take a shortcut."    "No . . .no . . .no . . .Padd, all your 'shortcuts' always turn into 'longcuts,' and we end up lost." She pleaded and added "just stay on this."     Persistence is not one of my virtues. It never was, and I doubt it will ever be one. Except for one area, where I have this unexplained need for stubbornness. I have to insist that others take short cuts with me. I sometimes think that, if I could transfer all my energy from this area to say, playing a guitar, I would be a rock star right now.     "Ya, know," I hinted, "if we were to make a turn right here, we could see the site where James Connolly led his workers to rally during the Dublin lock-out."     Billie turned quickly.     I continued  with, "Yeah, I think you can still see bullet holes on some of the basement outer walls. . . ."     She lightly patted the back of my hand, which gripped the wheelchair handle. "Are you sure that is faster?"     "Oh yeah, much" I was nearing my goal and uttered:"besides being a short cut, it's historical and free." I stopped and faced her to see her reaction.     Boing!!  Billie relented and advised me: "Well, if you're sure it's faster, how can we pass up the site?" She pointed to the corner ahead of us and announced in her best Captain Picard voice, "Engage!"     We neared the limestone-faced general post office building and slowly examined the chipped basement exterior with awe. We knew we were standing on the same spot where many Irish lives fell to give birth to a worker's right to unionize. I dipped my index finger into one of the tiny holes and muttered: "Awesome." A tiny click  interrupted the silence, and I cocked my head to see that it came from Billie's digital camera, which preserved that moment.     "How did you know about this place?" she asked me.     Then she remembered the countless hours I had spent browsing on the internet in search of memorable places of interest in Dublin.  She  smiled, snapped another picture and said "never mind."We then forged ahead, all the while moving our gaze from the post office to the red brick building that abutted it, and, from there, to the orange-painted doors on the store front across the street. Once again, our attention focuses on an aging warehouse that sported a wall of ivy. All the while, we moved forward turning our heads to and fro then stopping to admire the filagreed street lampposts that decorated the street.     "Shame we have to leave, huh?"     Billie answered by taking one more shot of me.  "As long as we're together, I'm happy."     What a gal.