Buffalo's Irish Festival- 2016

 A Gathering of Buffalo’s Clan Na Gael.

           From the center of the small hill, at the seaward side of Wilkeson’s Point on Buffalo’s outer harbor, you can see the glimmer of the small lighthouse at Point Abino, in Canada. To the west, you can observe the futuristic swaying of the dozen slowly-spinning wind turbines, at the old Bethlehem steel plant. Further west, you can just make out the headland at Sturgeon Point.

       Small sailing craft and all manner of powerboats cruised within the protective walls of the outer harbor. It was eighty eight degrees and sunny out. It was an absolutely gorgeous day on Buffalo’s waterfront. We were here to mingle once again with Buffalo’s Clan Na Gael. A conclave of white tents here vibrated with the rollicking music of a dozen musical groups playing every Irish and country tune ever remembered.

      Other tents held Irish jewelry, tee shirts, hats, and all manner of bric a brac, that celebrated our connection with Eire. Shepherd’s Pie, potatoes of several types and a heart potato soup were available for the hungry. Irish whiskey scones were sold by several of the beautiful young Irish Step dancers. Others offered raffle tickets for a trip to Eire. It was an Irish Country fair on Buffalo’s Waterfront.

        Beneath the tents, family groups met up, greeted other long time neighbors and once more renewed the bonds of ancestral kinship of the Buffalo Irish. There may have been a generation gap for some of us, but we new by the shape of the face and color of hair that these were younger members of our own. The colorfully clad young girls, with the Irish Step Dancing schools, entertained everyone with their high stepping and energetic routines. The thoughts of many of us paused a moment to remember a time when long ago we too might have been so limber and so practiced in our step.

        The beer tent did a rush hour business. On a day like this, a small ocean of draft beer would disappear among the thirsty, as everyone tapped their feet in rhythm to the ancient tunes. As the hours passed, the mood lightened and memories of long ago and far away came to the fore. The specter of generations of green-shirted and wooden cane wielding elders appeared now beside us. Where once they had been the elders of the clan, listening to the music, we now held their seats. Times pass quickly, but not amongst the remembered and respected elders who are always with us. They, and their fathers and mothers before them, were the link across the sea for us, to that ancient and misty isle of Eire.

        An old friend would walk by and smile in remembrance.  A hurried talk would commence asking about Pat or Sean or Mary. How were they doing and what were they up to? And who had passed on from us, God Love Them ? In this way, the collective memory of Buffalo’s Clan na Gael developed and was remembered. Once upon an era, we had all been one, first  on Times Beach and then along the narrow confines of Buffalo's Old First Ward. Now, we had scattered hither and yon across the broad expanse of America. Buffalo was still our touchstone, the point to which our own all had come when emigrating from the terrible hunger.

        And many had risen to the highest ranks imaginable in the halls of finance and the seats of power. Sure their own would have burst with pride at their success, in the few generations since they had come across. Truly, America is the golden land where all could succeed if they put their backs to the wheel, as the Irish always did.

        So, we hoisted a cold glass of Guiness and loudly gave the obligatory toast, “Erin Go Bragh,” celebrating for another year our link with that misty Isle of Eire, so far across the sea. And in song and reverie, we honored those who had come before us. God Bless them every one.

                                                            -30-

                                                      (664 words)

                                                  Joseph Xavier Martin