This song reminds me a lot of my childhood. Let's take a listen!
You may ask: "Why Chris?" "Why does this song about Catholic and Protestant troubles on the Emerald Isle remind you of your childhood. Did you grow up in Northern Ireland?"
No. I did not grow up in Northern Ireland. But all four of my grandparents grew up in Ireland (none from the North). The Irish Rovers records got a lot of play at my childhood home, particularly on Christmas day, when the bulk of the family would come to our house in Saugus for the day's (and often well into night's) annual Christmas party.
No. I did not grow up in Northern Ireland. But all four of my grandparents grew up in Ireland (none from the North). The Irish Rovers records got a lot of play at my childhood home, particularly on Christmas day, when the bulk of the family would come to our house in Saugus for the day's (and often well into night's) annual Christmas party.
That's the house I grew up in, where the Christmas gathering was. A rather stark and bleak portrait of the abode. It's kind of the exact oppostie energy which the house actually gave off, which I think is what fascinates me about the picture. That's my little Toyota on the left, so this was before I moved to California.
In any event...
So, what with all the literally dyed-in-the-wool Irish in the house, the Irish records were on heavy rotation. And as a kid, I never had any idea what the song was about. "...Me mother she was orange and me father he was green..." I simply never knew what it meant. I think I equated it somehow with experience and/or the eating of fruit. Like, you know how oranges can be really green before they ripen?
In any event...
So, what with all the literally dyed-in-the-wool Irish in the house, the Irish records were on heavy rotation. And as a kid, I never had any idea what the song was about. "...Me mother she was orange and me father he was green..." I simply never knew what it meant. I think I equated it somehow with experience and/or the eating of fruit. Like, you know how oranges can be really green before they ripen?
Like the mother was more of a seasoned (read: experienced) person and the father was "green" as in, inexperienced. Something like that. And I never asked an adult for clarification. I knew nothing about Irish politics and/or history (still really don't, shame on me) and that the orange meant Protestants and the Green meant Catholics:
Which brings us to another Christopher Reidy. A Mr. Christopher "Chris" Reidy who lives in England and is a reporter for Sky Sports News. Let's take a look!
Apparently, I've made enough of a dent in Interwebland to warrant what they call a "knowledge panel":
I thought I had already claimed my "knowledge panel"; but apparently, I didn't; or haven't. I mean, I have zero clue how these things are determined. Some computer brain at Google? Speaking of which. Have you seen these latest AI created "actors" that are popping up all over the sort of bizarre ads you see on Youtube and such. It's getting scary. HAL 9000 is rapidly approaching an event horizon with his reproductions of humanesque digi-effigies:
Looks very much like a real human, doesn't it? But when you start watching him speak (or her, or whoever the "actor" is) something seems off; which is probably what caught your attention to begin with. He keeps doing these repetitive hand motions and his facial expressions are missing something. The movement is stilted somehow. Something ineffable, like in Invasion of the Body Snatchers.
I think the creepiest thing is that HAL went for a sort of non-descript, Everyman type...to try and make the ruse more convincing. And he'll only keep getting better at it. Brave New World, indeed!
Well, let's put The End of Humanity on the backburner for now and get back to Mr. Christopher Reidy in jolly olde England!
So, it seems that HAL is a bit confused as to which Chris is which. He seems to have conflated myself and the British Chris Reidy. Which is a bit odd, as I purposely inserted my middle initial into myself(!) in order to separate myself from another Christopher Reidy, who has been an established Boston area writer for several decades. He's known primarily for business journalism via The Boston Globe. And weirdly enough, we kinda look alike. Like, a lot!
Well, let's put The End of Humanity on the backburner for now and get back to Mr. Christopher Reidy in jolly olde England!
So, it seems that HAL is a bit confused as to which Chris is which. He seems to have conflated myself and the British Chris Reidy. Which is a bit odd, as I purposely inserted my middle initial into myself(!) in order to separate myself from another Christopher Reidy, who has been an established Boston area writer for several decades. He's known primarily for business journalism via The Boston Globe. And weirdly enough, we kinda look alike. Like, a lot!
Nor does the British "Chris" use a middle initial. My "F" is for--ah, "Francis." Francis is my middle name. It's my dad's first name. Francis is also what the "F" in F. Scott Fitzgerald stands for, and he happens to be one of my favorite writers. He kind of looks like Kenneth Branagh; or Ken Jennings. Fitzgerald, that is: none of the Chris' herein.
So, not only has HAL confused me and the British Chris, he's front and centered a photo of a man who the British Chris interviewed, I guess, assuming it's me; as the generalities of mine and this gentleman's countenances are in the same general ball park.
The man in question is actually a Brazilian soccer (futbol?) player by the name of Gilberto Silva. Here he is answering your questions!
Or does HAL think Mr. Silva is British Chris? I don't know. But I'm calling dibs. The dude is muy guapo! Or, I guess that should be in Portuguese: Muito Bonito. I love that! I'm keeping it.
I guess the issue that this brings up--that we should truly be concerned with--is that computers are making these decisions. Assuming that this human is that human, while simultaneously creating it's own "humans." And not checking their work. I really think we need to keep the two separate. But that's just me. I mean, it's already being used willy-nilly to sell boner pills, so, like, do humans really deserve not to do themselves in? But let's keep this fun!
So, here are some more shots of the house where I lived from birth to late 1991 (give or take a few months in the late 80's):
So, here are some more shots of the house where I lived from birth to late 1991 (give or take a few months in the late 80's):
And the man who bought it after our family decided to pave half off the front lawn:
You can't stop progress, right. And time marches on...blah, blah, blah.
So, perhaps myself and Mr. British Chris are destined to meet. I mean, I did just write a sports themed screenplay set primarily in London. I mean, what are the odds? And I guess this is as good a place as any for a plug. The book version of said screenplay, HEARTFIGHT, is nearly completed in it's first proof reading and should be available on Amazon soon!
So, perhaps myself and Mr. British Chris are destined to meet. I mean, I did just write a sports themed screenplay set primarily in London. I mean, what are the odds? And I guess this is as good a place as any for a plug. The book version of said screenplay, HEARTFIGHT, is nearly completed in it's first proof reading and should be available on Amazon soon!
I guess we can close this out in Ireland, where we started. Here are my mother's parents. I never met my maternal grandmother but I vividly remember my Grandpa. He used to let me eat Cremora out of the jar when I was a child.
I really don't look a lot like either of them; but I sure got Grandpa's hairline! But you know, on him, it works.
So, British Chris Reidy isn't the only other Reidy out their who writes. There are quite a few. The writing gene must run in our branch of the clan. So, British Chris, if you're reading this...cheerio, mate! Perhaps one day we'll meet, mate. And we can have coffee. Or tea. Can you put Coffee-Mate in tea, mate? Or Cremora? Did you know it's great, straight out of the jar? You do now! Ciao!
CFR 11/14/24