I coasted down off the Rosslare ferry with my left hand drive BMW in mid-December 1994 and have celebrated nearly every Christmas since then in Ireland. I think I have negatives and slides in my attic from last century that might capture some of the earliest Christmases I enjoyed in Ireland–especially that first Christmas because I was joined by two daughters who have families in America now.
As a young lad in the States, I remember my dad posing me with my brothers every Christmas in Pennsylvania. I remember 1961 on the stairs because brother Dave pushed brother Greg down the stairs. Just for fun.
By 1966, the family was complete–all five brothers, most of us with shoes.
By 2004, with an Irish work permit in hand, Ruth and I celebrated Christmas in the first home we owned. It snowed on Christmas Day in Kilkenny as we celebrated with two adopted Pomeranians. My camera roll started automatically updating then, using Flickr’s service.
I think the most significant Christmas journey I took in Ireland happened in 2016 when the armature of our Qashqai’s windscreen wiper failed and I rigged a long yellow strap to the wiper arms that we used to pull the blades across the windscreen in the rain during a 90 minute trip on the Irish motorway.
So now it’s 2024 and I’m counting down to another decade of Christmas memories in Ireland. I’m spending some precious moments while Christmas shopping now with Mia, Dylan, and friends this year and next.
