Non Fly Fishing Activities

So, I’ve sort of been taken to task by a good friend for not writing more in recent weeks. Truth of the matter is, during the winter this site often does get a bit slow in the maintenance and update area. When you’re at just over 8 hours of daylight and lots of snow to shovel, and other things going on – it can be hard to focus on writing about fly fishing.

I suppose I could be writing some promised gear reviews and posting fly patterns, but there is just something about the deep winter months for me that keeps me away from thoughts of fly fishing (well, I DO think about it often – but get in a funk that I there are fewer options to participate) and many of my thoughts turn to other things.

This evening, I’m quite proud of the fact that I managed to find an absolutely wonderful copy of the vinyl LP, “Emigrate, Emigrate” by The Irish Rovers. Not one of their better known albums, but in my opinion, (and interestingly my brother told me so as well earlier today), one of their best.

As some will know, I am originally from Northern Ireland but emigrated to Canada as a young boy. I’ve made trips “home” – but the fact is I’ve spent such a small percentage of my total lifetime in my homeland, it’s hard to even think in reality if one wants to go by national or ethnic definitions that I’m Irish, Northern Irish, Celtic, or an “Ulster Man.”

But it’s also a fact for me that I am constantly finding myself drawn through memories, music, appreciation of many things “Irish,” to that place of my birth. I’m not sure what it is exactly because rationally, I reject political nationalism of any sort.

Anyhow, growing up, one of my favorite albums of music to listen to was “Emigrate, Emigrate.” I’m not sure how it occurred, but the first time I ever listened to what is now considered a Canadian Folk Ballad classic, “Canadian Railroad Trilogy,” it was the version done by The Irish Rovers – not the one done by the originator, Gordon Lightfoot. When I finally heard Lightfoot’s version, I thought he must have destroyed something that The Irish Rovers had come up with!

But there are a couple of songs on that album that always brought a wee tear to my eye. I can remember when one of my parents first brought home the album, I was about ten years old. And I listened to one of the songs, “Children of Hate.”

A haunting song written and sung by Wil Millar, it plainly tells the story of why so many from all over Ireland, both the North and Republic, left that beautiful land to live in other lands throughout the world. And growing up at the time I did, I was fully aware through letters from friends and family about just how insane the place had become. (It never ceases to amaze me about this whole “War On Terror” thing in America – when it was America that provided most of the funding to terrorism in N. Ireland – anyone remember the “Freedom Five” trial, where evidence showed the CIA complicit in the gun running?).
And yet regardless of the insanity, there’s probably not an Irish man or woman regardless of how long they spent there, that doesn’t have a yearning to return, at least for visits.

Anyhow, here’s the lyrics to the song that still continues to bring a wee tear to my eye:

Come and sit my little son

Upon your daddy’s knee

Your almost ten and your growing up

in a land so wide and free

You asked me just this afternoon

About the land we left far behind

And why we left old Ireland

Why it’s always on my mind.

Well over here a little boy

Can grow to be a man

Without the ignorance and the fear

That thrives throughout our land

Where little boys just the age of you

Are taught for to kill and to maime

Oh God help them what will they become

In a land that’s gone insane.

Instead of playing at the ball

They gather in the night

For to play with toys of more deadly fun

Petrol bombs and gelignite.

And if men must vent their hatred

Oh why must they teach their sons

To be just like them and hate the same

Our nations’ race is run

Jesus said to let all the little

Children come to him

But the devil’s got them jumping

And I feel he’s bound to win

For everyone there of course is right

And it seems it’s just to late

For to save the future you have to save

Little Children born of hate

~ Will Millar

********

This is such a beautiful song put the music that The Irish Rovers did – I have no idea of the legalities of it, but I’d like to make it available for you to listen to while reading the lyrics above. If there was a place I could point you to in order to purchase it, I would, but the fact of the matter is it’s never been re-released as far as I know in any format other than on the original album, “Emigrate, Emigrate” and it would be impossible for you to buy it, even if you wanted to. I think the lyrics, along with the music are of such worthiness, that it should be heard by as many that want to hear it and understand the meaning of it. To that end, I’ll give you an mp3 to listen to. Should any of The Irish Rovers, or Tara Records wish to tell me this is wrong, I’ll remove it – but to them, I’d ask them to make it available today!

When I was about ten, I learned in more detail from my own “Da” why we left Old Ireland. And it was not a pretty conversation. And my “Da” sat me down on his knee, and told me things, and when he told them to me, all I could do was thank him, and at the same time feel so sad for him because what he did was not his first choice at all. And my auld Da was one of the lucky ones that was able to take advantage of some things to get his family “out,” yet, his love for the place he grew up and where I was born was never ever lost. I wonder at times what i would have become if he indeed had not left that place and made sure we all got here to a so called land of “freedom.”

So yes, this song by The Irish Rovers has a lot of “meaning” for me as it is so very accurate in some ways, about my own “Da” telling me things after my own questions – and although my auld man had some of his own ideas about some things, and interpretations, Will Millar’s song is about as real as it gets for many folk that left dear old Ireland even just 30 years ago – nothing to do with potato famines at all, but the worry of little boys growing up with knowledge of gelignite and petrol bombs.. and more… daddy’s shot simply because of their employment and expectations of them.

Yes, today, I have in my possession a letter from a family friend, when I was about ten years old, which includes pleading and begging that my parents NEVER thing of returning to “dear old Ireland,” for it “had gone insane.” It’s dated 1973 or 74.. not long relatively speaking, after we’d left, and of course a lot of “missing” going on – and yes, about the age I was of Will Millar’s “son” in the song above. An age for me when I could still remember many things, and missed many things, and wondered why we couldn’t go back to what I remembered. And my “Da” tried to tell me.

As some will know, I did have an opportunity to visit Northern Ireland briefly, about six months ago, and enjoyed a time of fly fishing a river my “auld man” use to fish. I had the company of Stevie Munn – and it was wonderful. It had been about 20 years since I was last over there, and was amazed and hopeful for the changes that I saw, but along with those changes, there was also a lot of changes as far as the “quaintness” of the place too.

But I’d far rather that with the hope of much of the insanity disappearing that used to be far more prevalent.

And I look forward to returning again, hopefully for an even longer visit, and in the company of my sons should they wish to come along. My youngest son, my “wee man,” although half Dutch ethnically speaking is already showing plenty of signs that in his humour, his love of music, his wee bits of fun cheekiness – that he is a “wee Irishman.” And he told me just the other day, after listening to quite a bit of The Irish Rovers music that I grew up, that when he grows up, he wants to become an Irish Rover.

And that’s good! For I’ve not yet met an Irish rover of any sort that didn’t enjoy walking along rivers and simply enjoying it all. Whether with company or without.

I’ll have to rig up a fly rod for him this coming spring.

And God .. or some Principle.. or something.. and some people.. Keep This Land Free. And help to make it freer than it is.

(This post dedicated to someone who told me I haven’t been writing enough. Hopefully even though it is non-fly fishing related, it will be enjoyed by others as well).