Author: Trish

Tell me this isn’t the saddest Santa Claus you have ever seen. That’s my dad in the pony cart. This was taken in the late 1920s/early 1930s. Our family dubbed this photo “The Depression...

When we attended family parties with all the relatives—what I refer to as the Meeting of the Irish Clans—all the men exuded a similar aura. World War II veterans all, even the gay guy,...

I had to wash my mouth out with soap the other day because I let loose with a four-letter word in front of the grandchildren. Little Miss and Mr. Man were fortunately too focused...

The other day I was putting my little grandson, Mr. Man, down for his nap. (His parents do not want his name or picture on social media, so he will be Mr. Man in...

My father died during Easter week 41 years ago. It sounds so harsh in those terms, but the reality was full of light and hope. And it included a banshee. In Irish folklore, the...

Secretly I’ve always wanted to be an actress, so I have prepared a little video just for you that allows me to indulge in this fantasy. It’s meant to be fun, so I hope...

Everybody’s Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. I’m Irish every day. (As if you couldn’t already tell from my photos and stories.) Technically I am an American of Irish descent but growing up I was...

My first love was a Ford Mustang, but alas that love was destined to be unrequited. I was reminded of the pain of that impossible relationship when Jeff and I attended the North American...

When Jeff and I were first married, we barely had two cents to rub together. Donating to a charity meant dropping one or two quarters into the Salvation Army kettle at Christmastime. Once the...