AN IRISH STORYTELLER

The Irish have a great tradition of storytelling and have produced some great novelists and poets. Back in 1970 I visited Ireland after attending a conference in Brussels, Belgium on the future of the Church. At the time I was director of continuing education for priests of Cleveland and was always on the lookout for scholars who could teach in the summer graduate program of religious education at Saint John College of Cleveland.

Dr. Michael Donnellan, who taught in our summer program, suggested that after the conference in Belgium I should go to Maynooth Seminary in Ireland and try to persuade Father Enda McDonough, a renowned scholar, to come to Cleveland. I liked the suggestion, so I flew to Ireland and met McDonough at Maynooth. He was very cordial but had to refuse my invitation because he was booked elsewhere for the next three summers.

I had rented a car but was reluctant to drive on the left side of the road. So I asked two seminarians to drive the car for a couple of days. They were happy to oblige, and as we drove through the countryside they showed me towns and villages I would not have seen had I been alone.

At many intersections in the country, I noticed groups of people, young and old, sitting on fences or chairs and engaged in lively conversation. I asked my drivers what they talked about. They explained that because few of these rural folk had access to movies or television they met at crossroads to exchange news of the week and to sing and dance and tell stories. This custom was centuries old, and when the Irish came to America many families passed on that tradition to their children.

One of the most talented Irish descendants I knew for telling a good story was Walter Carey (now deceased). He regaled a group with the story of an old Texan who went into a Cadillac show room to buy a Cadillac Coupe de Ville.

He asked the salesman, “How much does the car cost?”

The salesman said it would cost $31,585.

The Texan asked, "How much will you take off if I pay you in cash?"

The salesman shot back, "Six percent."

The Texan, who had a limited education, said he would think it over. So he went across the street to a restaurant and began scribbling on the paper placemat at the table. Noticing that the old Texan was quite agitated, a waitress went over and asked if she could be of help.

" How good are you in math?" the Texan asked.

" Very good," she replied. "My best subject in high school."

The Texan then asked her, "How much would you take off if I gave you six percent of $31,585?"

She quickly replied, "Would it be all right if I keep my earrings on?"

Walter told me that story over 25 years ago, but I still remember it because of the way he told it. I know he has passed the storytelling gift on to his children because occasionally I read a lively piece in a local publication by Miriam Carey, one of his daughters.

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