And Although I Know It's a Long Road Back...

Sitting anxiously in the John F. Kennedy Airport in New York, I find myself reflecting on this world in which we live. I find myself thinking about Eyre Square—the quaint, welcoming city centre of Galway that isn’t much bigger than a soccer field (or Gaelic football, depending on your country). The same park is named Kennedy Square because the president once made a famous speech on those grounds one rainy day in Ireland. I recall my last walk through that park on a rainy Friday afternoon, on my way to enjoy my last pint in Galway…at least for a while. From Kennedy Square to Kennedy Airport—I begin to observe the small nature of this world. I find myself thinking about Laura, who traveled from Chile to Argentina last weekend for a short vacation and became well acquainted with a woman from Dublin of all places. She had a lot of great things to say about the city I grew to love. And finally, I find myself thinking about how I left my cottage this morning at 4:30 and will be in my own bed in about 6 hours. At the risk of being cliché (which is something I am well aware I often risk), it really is a small world after all.

Time is an interesting thing; but one’s relationship with time is even more interesting. We have all experienced instances in our lives when we want nothing more than to freeze time in a certain moment: a moment of relief; a moment of elation. Probably equally as many times, we have moments in our lives when we find ourselves praying to Chronos to make the arms of the clock spin as a tilt-o-whirl. Yet we know that no matter how hard we try, one way or the other, 60 seconds is always going to make one minute; 60 minutes is always going to make one hour; and 24 hours is always going to make one day (unless you are traveling from Ireland to Minnesota, via New York, and you realize your day now became 6 hours longer). Time is a mystery that I will never be able to grasp and this semester has solidified my befuddledness. I feel as if I have been gone for years; but at the same time, I also feel like it was just last week that I was at the Shannon Airport filling out a lost luggage form. The only thing we can do to combat this enigma of time is live.

I can’t wait to be back to tell you all about how I lived for the last 3 months and 6 days; but even more that that, I can’t wait to begin again to live the life I lead in Minnesota.

I want to thank all of you who have read any of these blogs. In all seriousness, I have thoroughly enjoyed being able to express myself through writing. It has always been something I have enjoyed, but these blogs have given me an opportunity to…well, say whatever the hell I want without any repercussions…that I know of. (I hate ending sentences in prepositions, and I know I’ll hear about it from Monica, but this one was necessary.) Most of all I want to wish all of you and your families a very blessed and merry Christmas. I hope this new year is one of great health and happiness. And of course…
May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back.

"The Good Lord Gave Us Mountains..."

"...So we could learn how to climb."

I've never climbed a mountain in my life. This one time I climbed a hill...but then I slid down it shortly there after. Just like those hills though, this one too was snow covered. It was no Everest, but Croagh Patrick, the mountain from which St. Patrick allegedly rid Ireland of snakes, was a little higher than the pitching mound where I occasionally make an appearance. Saturday the 29th was the day 8 of us embarked on this journey; and it's one I will not soon forget.

From the moment I knew I was coming to Ireland I made a list of things I wanted to do. Number 1: "drink beer." Check (better put a few checks). Number 2, "climb Croagh Patrick." Seriously, that was my list! I ran out of time so I didn't get any further. Lame, I know. The lack of list though gave me a blank canvas on which to paint a journey though. Anyway, I can now check number 2 off the list.

We left the cottages at 830am and took an hour and a half cab ride to the mountain. I listened to the same music on the way there that I listen to before any big game. I had such a rush of adrenaline on the ride there, and when I stepped out, I hit the ground running. (Not literally. It's really tough to run up a mountain.) After being unable to find any, we decided we were SOL with the walking stick aspiration. I'm going to say this: I thought I was in pretty good shape. The mountain had other ideas and thought it would be fun to kick my ass a little bit. Needless to say, I was a little sore the next day.

I met a man from Limerick and talked to him for a while on the way up and at the summit. As nice as he was, he did put somewhat of a damper on my accomplishment when he told me he had his hip replaced 5 years ago. C'mon man! Can't you just let me have my moment! I know, I'm 21 years old and in decent shape, but that was hard enough for me...with two real hips! It really was great, though, to share that success with an Irish man who was also climbing Croagh Patrick for the first time.

I was the first from our group up to the top, but on my way I met one of our other group-mates as he was coming down. He and another guy got an earlier start on the mountain than us 8. He said he met a kid that was from St. John's and he was coming down soon. I thought, "No way." I come all the way to Ireland to climb a mountain only to meet a fellow Johnnie?! Well, not quite; but I found out that the story was even better than I anticipated. This "Johnnie" was actually the son of a professor at St. John's who passed away nine months ago--Art Spring. Dr. Spring, who led the Ireland trip just 6 years ago, passed away suddenly at the end of February. His son that I met, Paul, was climbing that day for his dad, who was unable to make it up the last time he was there. This was the 9 month anniversary of his dad's death. The coincidence got even crazier when I told him that my girlfriend had his father for class his last semester at CSB/SJU. As I told him, I never had Dr. Spring, but from how Laura talked about him, I felt like I had him. This man had such a great impact on all of his students. No, Paul is not studying in Ireland right now; he is actually on a study abroad program through his university in Dallas, TX and is currently studying in Rome! He decided to come to Ireland over his Thanksgiving break. One of my roommates, who also had Dr. Spring for class, and I walked down the mountain with Paul and we were all in awe of the coincidence. It was incredible. It's hard for me to believe that stuff like that happens without any intervention from something greater than us. One of my friends calls this picture "God's Eye." I agree.


Climbing Croagh Patrick was one of the best moments of my trip, and also one of the best moments of my short life. The feeling of accomplishment I experienced reaching the peak of that snow-laden mountain was unlike anything I've ever tasted. But the circumstances that accompanied my journey made it truly an experience unlike any other. I'm so thankful for the opportunity to climb, the encounter with a fellow "Johnnie", and a day I will not soon forget.


Well, I'm now 3 and a half hours deep into Friday, and the alarm will come early tomorrow morning. Oh, the Cottage 1 Christmas party was a success tonight. I mean, how could it not be? I would never put my hand in a Christmas party and let it be sub-par. Really though, my eyes are drooping and Dave Matthews is singing sweet lullabies to me.


God bless you all. Be safe, have fun, and take care of each other.

Joe