Shamrock Open - The Blarney Stone (758 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.81 on 13 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Crystle <crystlesun.at.aol.com> (View user info) at 2006-03-02 00:05:38 EST
While I was growing up, my father would tell stories of Ireland. He'd wax lyrical about the green rolling hills, about the magic mist, about the living emerald island. To hear him talk, you'd think that he had himself been driven out by the great potato famine. No such thing. He was just ambitious and wanted to break free of small town life, so like many before him, he followed the flow of workers out of Ireland to New York.
We grew up with the legends of Ireland mixed into its history in a tapestry so intricate and rich that none of us ever tried to untangle it - somehow believing all the outrageousness as if it were gospel truth. Leprechauns and fairies danced on rainbows and you really could find gold if you tried hard enough.
One of the most memorable moments of my life was when I was about 15. I was ecstatic because my crush of the week had asked me to Prom. My first official date and I was riding high on the elation of being chosen. Dad sat at the end of the table, listening to me bubble over while Mom and I planned the shopping trip to pick my dress and all the essentials. As was his style, in the middle of our conversation he started with one of his tall tales. Like all proud Irish, he was a wonderful story teller, and we were all entranced by his story. This particular story was about how the Irish had come to be blessed with the gift of gab. He ended it, as usual, with a moral that he felt applicable to the situation.
"Annie," he said "watch out for the boys. They'll charm you with words, fill your heart with promises, and leave you empty. Pretty words don't always come from a pretty heart."
At the time, I thought this was a cruel and terrible thing for him to say. Boys were exiting and fun, and I was setting out on a whirlwind, tasting all that life had to offer.
Now, 20 years later, I sit on the end of the bed, sobbing because I've been left empty. I wish that I had listened even more closely to Dad, had taken the time to sort the magic and myth out of his stories and pulled the life lessons closer to my heart.
My ring glimmers in the light, and I can't take it any more. I pull it off my finger and throw it onto the table by my bed. The stone that winks up at me isn't a diamond, full of love and forever. It has become instead a symbol of betrayal, of deceit, of pretty words with no truth behind them. The flashing rainbows inside don't end in happiness or a pot of gold.
It's the Blarney Stone, and I'm leaving it behind.
User Reviews
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-09-25 15:41:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Danger_Ranger (user info) at 2006-07-05 20:06:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
stop it with the cocks already.
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2006-03-02 12:13:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
So diamonds ARE a girl's best friend?
Submitted by Susie_Derkins (user info) at 2006-03-02 11:31:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
The diamond in the ring was supposed to mean "forever". Since the giver obviously betrayed her, the meaning of the stone is obviously "blarney" or bullshit.
Good idea, Crystle
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2006-03-02 11:27:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You don't see the relation of the story to the Blarney Stone? The diamond was a promise that was broken, and she's leaving it behind just like her father left that Blarney Stone behind in Ireland.
I sucked in every English class I ever took and I got that. Clever.
Submitted by OneCheapGeek (user info) at 2006-03-02 10:16:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Yep, we're all assholes, after your body, your money, or your Lucky Charms.
Submitted by MichelleNJ (user info) at 2006-03-02 09:46:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2006-03-02 08:37:47 (#)
Ranking: 1
Good story, but I don't get how it has anything to do with the blarney stone.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-03-02 09:09:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2006-03-02 08:37:47 (#)
Ranking: 1
Good story, but I don't get how it has anything to do with the blarney stone.
While that's true this hits a little close to home for me. Girls/women are just as evil and worthless as boys/men
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2006-03-02 08:37:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Good story, but I don't get how it has anything to do with the blarney stone.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2006-03-02 02:58:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
christ im depressed.
Submitted by Danger_Ranger (user info) at 2006-03-02 02:48:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
plus 2 for "Boys were exiting". thorpe and williamson are gonna love that.
And it's 'Mum'... and your name's not Annie.. and that looks like a cubic zirconia.. and today I found a missing sock at my front door - I think my neighbour jumps the fence and steals my intimate apparel just to revel in me looking all perturbed and shit when I'm bringing the washing in.. I'm gonna steal his garden, and leave a ransom note. "Dear Fuckface, I have your geraniums. Meet me at the fountain by the plaza or the plaza by the fountain, I don't really care which, just don't fuck me around. If you're late, the bird-bath gets it. And no cops. You have 24 hours in which to comply. Oh, and bring a ransom of some description."
Submitted by Lechuga (user info) at 2006-03-02 00:41:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
So what you're saying is. . . I don't get it back?
Submitted by Sideburns (user info) at 2006-03-02 00:07:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Little known medical fact: Chuck Norris invented the Caesarean section when he roundhouse-kicked his way out of his monther's womb.