When Irish Eyes are Smiling
by Maury Collins
“Young man,” said the angry father from the head of the stairs, “didn’t I hear the clock strike four when you brought my daughter in?” “You did,” admitted the boyfriend. “It was going to strike eleven, but I grabbed it and held the gong so it wouldn’t disturb you.” The father muttered, “Doggone! Why didn’t I think of that one in my courting days!”
Paddy goes to the pub and spends all day and most of the evening there to celebrate St Patrick’s Day. Eventually Mick, the barman says, ‘You’ll not be drinking any more tonight, Paddy.’
Paddy agrees, ‘OK Mick, I’ll be on me way then.’ Paddy spins around on his stool and steps down. He falls flat on his face. ‘Damn’ he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself off. He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face; he looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just get to the door and some fresh air he’ll be OK.
Paddy belly crawls to the door and shimmies up to the door frame. He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air, feels much better and takes a step out on to the pavement – and falls flat on his face again.
‘By’ Jeebers…. I’m more than a bit crocked,’ he says. He can see his house just a few doors down, and crawls to the door, hauls himself up the door frame, opens the door and shimmies inside. He takes a look up the stairs and says, ‘No damn way.’
He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says, ‘I can just about make it to the bed.’ He takes a step into the room and falls flat on his face. He says, ‘ Damn it ‘ and falls into bed.
The next morning, his wife, comes into the room carrying a cup of coffee and says, ‘Get up Paddy. Did you have a bit to drink last night?’
Paddy says, ‘I did, Jess. I was really crocked. But how’d you know?’
‘Mick phoned . . . you left your wheelchair at the pub again!’
A sweet grandmother telephoned St. Joseph’s Hospital. She timidly asked, “Is it possible to speak to someone who can tell me how a patient is doing?”
The operator said, “I’ll be glad to help, dear. What’s the name and room number of the patient?” The grandmother in her weak, tremulous voice said, Norma Findlay, Room 302.”
The operator replied, “Let me put you on hold while I check with the nurse’s station for that room.”
After a few minutes, the operator returned to the phone and said, “I have good news. Her nurse just told me that Norma is doing well. Her blood pressure is fine; her blood work just came back normal and her Physician, Dr. Cohen, has scheduled her to be discharged tomorrow.”
The grandmother said, “Thank you. That’s wonderful. I was so worried. God bless you for the good news.”
The operator replied, “You’re more than welcome. Is Norma your daughter?”
The grandmother said, “No, I’m Norma Findlay in Room 302. No one tells me anything.”
An elderly woman died last month. Having never married, she requested no male pallbearers. In her handwritten instructions for her memorial service, she wrote, “They wouldn’t take me out while I was alive, I don’t want them to take me out when I’m dead.”
