Immigrant. Emigrant. Guinness is something we can all unite over.
As the daughter of 2 immigrants (a Haitian and Nigerian who met in New Hampshire in the late 70s…go figure!) I have a warm, fuzzy spot in my heart for emigrant stories. Almost every cab ride I take, I am delighted to be reminded of the variety and multiculturalism that makes our country so great. Take, for instance, the Somali driver I had three weeks ago who tried to convert me to Islam in the backseat of the cab and urged me to purchase a Qur’an; or the Bangladeshi cabbie I met last night who, after hailing the manifold virtues of his wife who’s bore him five healthy children, proceeded to blithely divulge that he, on the side, sees three girlfriends – 17, 23, and 35 years of age, finds American women to be “cold,” and mostly prefers Latinas and Eastern European chicks. Ok, so those references were a bit tongue-in-cheek. Some of the more moving stories I’ve heard have been from folks who have come here as refugees and been blessed with the opportunity to stay. Miriam was a woman I met from Sudan. She and her family of four made it safely to the States, shortly after which the entire village she was from was wiped out in guerilla warfare. Inspiring is an understatement in describing the twinkle of hope in Miriam’s eyes.
An emigrant story that I’m also in love with is that behind The Irish Village. Right about the time that my parents were meeting each other in New Hampshire, a Galway native by the name of Peter Lee found himself opening a bar in Brighton. Its purpose was to offer other Irish immigrants a taste of home and has since become renowned as one of the best spots Irish expats can go to quickly assimilate into the local Irish community. The bar, now owned and operated by Peter’s sons, is one of Boston – and New England’s – most authentic Irish pubs; a welcoming watering hole for both those of Irish and non-Irish descent.
You’ll find me there at dusk on St. Patrick’s Day, sipping a perfectly poured pint of Guinness and downing a corned beef sandwich. The guys at The IV have perfected the science of pouring the perfect pint and offer over 30 selections of beer. So if you want to see a vision of unity at its best (and a perfect demonstration of multiculturalism) then head to The Irish Village on Tuesday night to see this African-American practice her brogue and sing “All for Me Grog” while intoxicatedly trying to say, ‘perfectly poured pint’ as fast as I can five times in a row.
Posted by Elizabeth