An Irish Tale

It was actually the summer of 2007. I remember because it was the year Elizabeth graduated from high school. Jim and I took Elizabeth, her boyfriend at the time, Patrick, and Sean, of course, to France. We stayed in Paris for a few days with me dragging them around to all the art and cathedrals I wanted to see for myself. It was glorious!

Jim and I were so proud of ourselves for getting our train tickets south to Perpignan ahead of time. We were so prepared! On the morning of our leaving we found to our astonishment that we were in the wrong train station! We were at Gare Montparnasse. Our train was leaving from Gare de l’Est. We had absolutely no idea where that was! After much confusion, which included Patrick getting his wallet nabbed out of his pocket, we found the train to Gare de l’Est and once there literally ran to our train making it on with, no kidding, minutes to spare!

But we were not done yet! We were in the wrong compartment and there was absolutely no room for the five of us! We were in a third class car, Jim and I had splurged for seats in first! We literally sat on the stairs in the luggage storage area. About half way south we had figured out the timing for the stops of which there were as few as they were fast! We grabbed our things at one stop and raced for the car labeled first. The seats were plentiful and lavish. The kids settled at a table to play cards, while Jim and I lounged in cozy captain’s chairs for the rest of the trip! A porter appeared almost immediately to check our tickets! We were prepared for that at least!

It was a great visit in southern France. In Reid-like fashion we hiked, swam, ate and drank, and saw beautiful sights. We took the Yellow Train one day up the mountain in what was, as Connor justly labeled, the most boring train ride ever. I believe his quote was, “I am so sick of green!”

Since we were there for Bastille Day Jiff and Elaine had planned to haul us all to Carsassonne for the fireworks. That never happened. What follows is Jiff’s version of the events. I have included a few corrections.

“In the summer of 2005 (7) the Cunningham family went to France to meet up with the Reid family. On the 13th of July we went to a local restaurant for dinner (by local he means a half of an American block from their house) Planning for an early evening and then to Carcassonne on the 14th July, Bastille day, for a big fireworks display.

(Here you must know that their entire town of Saint-Paul-de-Fenouillet was abound with celebration. There was food and drink everywhere and at the center of the town a huge dance was in full swing, rock and roll band and all! I had left dinner to follow the kids to the dance. When I was sure they were both safe and having fun I returned to Tierrie’s to find a long table now stood across the entire patio.)

We got invited to join a long table of people. Half the people at the table were from the local French  town counsel, the other half were from the counsel of the twinned town, Ennis, in Ireland. I told Jim that Ennis was a well known traditional music and singing town. Jim saw an opportunity! So after a while when a lot of wine had been consumed and the table was full of loud chatter I introduced an American who wanted to sing. 

(When I arrived Elaine had four glasses of Rose’ in front of her, she begged me to take some. It seemed as though the French and the Irish were trying to out welcome each other.)  

The loud chatter continued! Jim stood up! Half the chatter stopped!
Jim started to sing. All the chatter CEASED!
On finishing his first song the Mayor of the French town offered Jim a drink. Jim asked him what he was drinking? He replied as the Counsel was paying for it, Cognac. So the Cunninghams (Jim Cunningham) and the Reids drank brandy for the rest of the night. (I could see where this was going and for once in my life I kept my wits about me!)

Not to be outdone, the pride of the singer’s of the Ennis town, who also happened to be the mayor, started singing. (Now picture this: short, plump, totally Irish looking fellow, standing tall, with his fingers touching slightly in front of his chest, his high tenor voice as sweet and clear as you would expect.)
This started a singing competition between Jim and the pride of Ennis. (I can’t imagine how long I must have been away at the dancing, because this competition was well under way on my return. Eventually the dance ended and the kids had passed us shaking their heads as they headed for home and bed!)

This continued long into the night and was enjoyed by all. Eventually Ardy said to Jim, I’m just saying, why don’t you let the pride of Ennis win? (I actually said, “Why don’t you let The Irishman win?” Jim was having such a good time it never occurred to him that a competition had begun!)

The singing ceased, and everybody left leaving the Cunninghams and the Reids still drinking brandy.
Amazing the things that happened when Jim sang.
Needless to say nobody could drive to Carcassonne the next day. 

(Two follow ups here: 1. We finally dragged ourselves up to bed around 3:00! Tierrie’s opened for breakfast and to host regional dancers at 5:00 am and 9:00 am respectively. 2. We made Jim and Jiff get up and dance with the pretty young girls. :))

One of the many memorable nights spent with Jim.

Elaine and Jiff forever his Irish friends.