MINI HAMBURGERS AND MINI TUNA BURGERS

It was 1983.  I was teaching English at a residential facility for troubled girls placed by NYS courts.  I loved my job.  I loved my home.  I loved my friends.  Life was good except for a couple of things.  I was watching the creativity of my children erode.  Whereas they were once curious and imaginative not only in their play but in the essence of their personalities, now I was seeing 9 and 13-year olds watching the 20th rerun of The Brady Bunch.  They were sponges simply soaking up pop culture.  Little was emanating from within.  It was really bothering me.

In addition to this what really made me believe I needed a change of setting was when I was visiting a DFY [former name of the NYS corrections for youth] facility in the Bronx.  I was going over a bridge from the Bronx to Manhattan when a woman rushing to get her daughter to a hospital ran a red light and smashed into my car.  The ordeal that I encountered trying to get that automobile fixed was a nightmare.  I must have gone to 8 different repair and body shops and was told 8 different stories of damage with 8 different estimates from minor damages to "We can't take that car off the lift, Mam.  It is just too dangerous to drive."  I just felt like I was being taken advantage of because I was a woman.  That year I took an automotive course so I never felt that ignorant and vulnerable again.  I guess I wanted to go back to a simpler time when people were honest and businessmen had more integrity.  This was the greedy eighties. 

So I made the decision to take a year off and move to Ireland.  I decided on the Emerald Isle for a few reasons:  I was Irish; Erin and Eli would not encounter a language barrier, and that was where one went to write the great American novel!  My close friend Kathleen who was living in Greece at the time had also lived in Ireland for seven years and had relatives outside Dublin.  I thought of that as a safety net.  I would not be going to the scary unknown or so I thought. 

When I think back, it was meant to be because from the initial decision to the boarding of the Aer Lingus plane was less than a year.  All preparation and planning just flowed effortlessly.  I took a sabbatical, rented my house, talked to the children's father about taking them out of the country, wrote to Kathleen and her relatives, researched all aspects of life in Ireland, got plane tickets, and told my boyfriend of a few years that I was leaving. 

My travel agent actually was looking for a place to live so he rented my home but needed it for the summer.  I was not planning to leave until late August/early September so that left us with no home for two months.  Erin and Eli went to live with my parents.  I was working summer session at the Division For Youth facility in Rensselaerville, NY so I was a vagabond during the week.  I lived a few days with every friend I had in the area.  It was wonderful.  It was the perfect way to say goodbye to everyone.  That summer had an air of college about it since I was so free without the responsibility of the children.  We cooked great meals, drank bottles of wine, and talked and talked and talked in a Spanish style home in Albany, in a Victorian bungalow in Rensselaerville, in a brownstone in the Stockade in Schenectady, and in a little cottage in Greenville.  On the weekends I would go to my parents to be a mother and daughter.  It was extremely difficult saying goodbye to my parents.  I remember watching the LA summer Olympics that year.  I was proud to be an American with so many medals.  And I hated knowing I would miss a year of my beloved NY Yankees.  I watched almost every game of a 162-game schedule even during those lean years. 

I also remember my attorney who handled the rental agreement told my mother I was either the craziest or bravest woman he had ever known for undertaking this adventure.  I think it was a combination of the two.  An anecdote that shows my crazy and brave side: one vivid memory I have was going to my house to get some clothes for a year for my children and me.  All of our things were in a storage area of my home.  I had called my realtor who had rented the house for days and could not make contact with him at home or the office.  So after work one day, I decided to drive to the house and see if he was home.  I only had a short time left to get packed.  No one was home so I decided to break in to my own house.  Of course, all the doors were locked, but I knew I could pull up the screen in the bathroom from the outside to get in.  I walked up onto the deck and stepped on a patio chair near the window.  I managed to pull up the screen...you can tell this was not the first time I was locked out of my own house...and started to pull myself up when I saw a HUGE German Shepherd staring at me.  He was not barking, just growling a little.  Well, I have always fancied myself an animal whisperer--though at the time I was not familiar with that phrase--and started talking softly to the dog as if I was cooing sweet nothings in his ear.  He did not seem to become more agitated so I continued to speak to him as I put one leg into the window.  A shaking leg I might add.  It was shaking so much I was not sure it would support my weight when I put it on the toilet seat.  When I did not feel my right leg being ripped off by sharp teeth, I proceeded to pull my body through the tiny window all the while talking to the dog as if he were my lover.  He had stopped growling completely by this time and was just looking at me not knowing what to make of it all.  I brought my left leg in and sat on the seat for a moment to collect myself and assess the dog.  What would he do when I tried to stand and walk out of the bathroom?  He could attack, and then how could I get back out the window?  It hit me then what an idiot I was to try this, but he seemed okay with my presence.  I continued to talk to him like he was my dog and walked to the storage area and proceeded to go systematically through all our clothes deciding what we needed for a year.  He watched every move I made.  I took five loads of clothes out of the house through the bathroom window.  I do not think I ever mentioned the break-in to Drew I returned from Ireland.  I did tell him then that his brother's shepherd was a lousy watch dog.

In retrospect I cannot believe the toilet seat was even down for me to step on since there was no female living in the house.  And there was not supposed to be a dog.  Drew said he had two cats.  I found out later it was Drew's brother Reed's shepherd. 

When I finally got back home to unpack and look at exactly what I had grabbed for myself, I was appalled.  I had  mostly running clothes, nightclothes, and sexy lingerie for a year.  So I guess I was going to have to run a lot, sleep alot, and have a lot of sex!  I did better for my children. 

I remember watching a semifinal match of the US Open between McEnroe and Connors before we left for the airport.  Our flight was at 11:30 PM so my mom wanted to go to South Street Seaport and Coney Island before they dropped us at JFK.  Our last American meal was Nathan's hot dogs and fries.  We strolled the boardwalk saying goodbye to my mom and dad.  My mother always talked about watching us at the airport walk to the international gate with my large black and white straw hat tied to my neck hanging down my back.  That was her last visual of her daughter for a very long time.  I know she was afraid for us and started praying at that moment we would return safely to her.  The only phone call I made from the airport was one last chat with my boyfriend Marty who lived in Brooklyn.  And off we went on our adventure.

Next up: panic set in on the plane and our first sight of the Emerald Isle.