Where Streams of Whiskey are Flowing
Coming through the speakers: "I am going, I am going / Any which way the wind may be blowing / I am going, I am going / Where streams of whiskey are flowing..." I couldn't get Streams of Whiskey by the Pogues out of my head! Especially not after visiting "the Chelsea!"
It was a wedding that brought me back this go-around. Specifically, DeVon Jackson's. Yes! That DeVon Jackson! Ninth grade, Geometry. Twelfth grade, Government (and a Wyclef Jean group project that rivaled anything Bill and Ted ever attempted). Late-20s/early 30s New York. Yes!He had recently moved to London to live with Ciara, his Irish girlfriend. In fact(!), it was DeVon I visited in London for World Cup. We were both so excited to live so close to each other again. And then I ended up 10,000 miles away in Seattle.
I arrived in Dublin on December 30th, giving me enough time to settle in to... the sweetest digs in Dublin! As if the top floor apartment wasn't enough, I'd be sharing it with Sam the Jam Jackson! Yes! Two Jacksons for the price of one!!! He and his girlfriend Allie occupied one half of the swank. I took the other.With the crew together, we set out on those raucous Dublin nights. The Rehearsal/Welcoming Dinner doubled as a New Year's Eve celebration and involved more Jacksons than I could count. Brothers, half-sisters, cousins, moms, and step-moms. The last time I had seen some of them, they were unclothed toddlers blitzing through Sam and DeVon's high school home. Grandma Jackson had made the trip as well. At one point, she needled up beside me in the bar booth, imploring me to buy her three cigars for the evening. Three cigars, that would be it. After that she was quitting. Who am I to deny a wonderful woman like her?!
The next morning was a bit foggy, but to our relief, all the half-brothers and half-sisters made it home (alone). The last one crashed on our couch just before sunrise, and it was really quite helpful that he decided to come home. I could only imagine the wrath their mother would have on us if we had lost them in Dublin.We had a full day to recover before the January 2nd ceremony. The ceremony was intimate. Personal. Exactly how DeVon and Ciara would have it. It took place on the stage of one of the oldest theaters in Dublin. So much was done with the help of friends: the music, the decorations. Everything with a personal touch. The vows even made mention of Arsenal! It was beautiful and perfect.
The reception that followed hedged toward the Irish side, with whiskey and Guinness and O'Haras and who knows what else flowing liberally. I found Grandma Jackson on the dancefloor. She had finally ditched her cane and was teaching the Irish the stanky leg. "Don't bounce! Smooth... smooooooothhhh..." I joked that she'd never again need that cane if she just stanky-legged wherever it was she was going.Another foggy morning, another bucket of laughs. Sam, his girlfriend Allie, and I managed the mornings with varying degrees of success. As the house mom, I made sure everyone had a nice cup of tea to start the day. We'd then wander through the city, grabbing a quick pint whenever necessary (which may have been a bit more often than necessary). Toner's. The Swan. Kehoe's. They all played their part. In between, we strolled the graffiti-filled alleys of south Dublin, hiked the Cliff Walk along the sea, and (finally) toured the Guinness storehouse with its 360 degree view overlooking all of Dublin.
The family obligations lessened as the wedding party began to head back to reality. I stuck around for another couple of days. There was work to do in the Rightside office and work we did -- good work! And when we weren't working, it wasn't unusual to find us with another pint in hand. Good colleagues... Good friends.Just as I was settling back into a groove, it was time to go. It had been a long three weeks since I last slept in my Seattle bed. I was ready. I took one last morning stroll of Dublin. The streets had grown so familiar by this point. There was a certain mundane sense you can only get from a place you'd call home. The hyper-awareness of new sights and sounds and tastes had settled in to a comfortable closeness. For the first time, I left Ireland without a future trip planned. That will hopefully be fixed in the next couple of months.