Paddy, not Patty

The big day is coming. Are you ready?

The big day is coming — the day when people all over the world celebrate everything Irish. If you’re like me, you probably already know what you’re going to be wearing, where you’re going to be celebrating, and who (and what!) you’re going to be celebrating with. You’ve laid in a supply of Guinness (or — gack! — green beer!), and the craic is ready to start flowing!

There’s just one question: What do you call the occasion we’re all going to be celebrating? Who is being commemorated?

Come on! Let’s shout it out together!

A haon, a dó, a trí —

Happy Saint….er…Saint Who?

What did you say?

How many of you skipped the English entirely and said “Lá fheile Pádraig sona”? Maith sibh! Go to the head of the class!

How many of you said “Happy St. Patrick’s Day”? Dead on! Gold star for you!

Did any of you say “Happy St. Paddy’s Day”? Sure, that’s fine.

Anyone say “Happy St. Pat’s”? Eh…sure, that’s OK.

But did any of you say “St. Patty’s Day”? Really? Seriously?

Ouch. OK, it’s remedial education for you! So, while the other kids go out for recess (or more likely to buy more green beer and Guinness), you get to sit through….

Culture and manners 090

I’ll start by saying it straight out: There is no such thing as “St. Patty’s Day.” There was no such person as “St. Patty.” It doesn’t matter what it says on the card your grandmother sent you, or on the tacky green T-shirt in the drug store, or even on the corned beef display at the supermarket — “St. Patty’s Day” is just plain wrong. End of story.

In Ireland, as in the U.S., “Patty” is traditionally a girl’s/woman’s name — short for the name “Patricia.” The usual nicknames for a boy or man named “Patrick” are “Pat,” “Patsy,” “Pa,” or “Paddy.”

That’s right: Paddy with d’s, not with t’s.

Why? Because it comes from the Irish-language form of the name of the man English speakers call “St. Patrick”: Naomh Pádraig.

Generally pronounced “PAW-drig,” with the tongue placed against the back of the top front teeth to form the “d” sound, Pádraig was how the Irish to whom he ministered rendered Patricius, St. Patrick’s name in religion (His actual given name is thought to have been Maewyn Succat. Before he became first a slave and then an apostle in Ireland, he was a Roman citizen born somewhere in Great Britain — the most likely candidates being Wales or Scotland. But that’s for another post).

The “Patty” confusion likely resulted from Americans unfamiliar with the nickname “Paddy” mis-hearing the d’s as t’s.

Mis-hearings happen. That’s not the problem. The problem is that people persist in saying and writing “St. Patty” even when they’re told it’s wrong. And that’s just rude.

Names matter. It’s a matter of respect.

Ask an Irish person what they think about people from other countries referring to St. Patrick’s Day as “St. Patty’s Day,” and you’re likely to get an eye roll and a (hopefully) good-natured explanation of why it’s “Paddy” and not “Patty.” Tell them you’re going to keep saying “Patty” anyway because that’s how you learned it/that’s how your “very Irish” (American) great uncle said it/that’s what it sounds like to you/etc., and you’re likely to get, at best, a cold shoulder.

It really does come down to respect — respect for Irish culture (which is NOT the same as Irish-American culture), history, and language. It is “Paddy” because “Paddy” is an Irish male name derived from a name in the Irish language. It’s not “Patty” because that name is NOT an Irish male name, and has never been used in Ireland to refer to the saint, to the holiday, or even to ordinary men and boys named “Patrick.” It’s really that simple.

To put it in perspective, it’s a little like calling “Dia de los Muertos” “Day of the Mortos,” or Diwali “Denali” (Yes, I’ve heard both). Done in ignorance it’s one thing, but done with full knowledge that it’s incorrect, and with no attempt to do it correctly, it’s an insult.

Or to put it another way, when people refuse to call you by your name, whether it’s the one you were given at birth or one you’ve chosen, and instead call you by something that they prefer, it’s disrespectful, yes? Yes! Pure and simple. It doesn’t matter why they prefer it — whether, to their mind, it’s easier to pronounce, or easier to remember, or if it’s the first name they learned for you and they don’t want to learn to use another, or if it helps them keep track of multiple people with similar names, or any number of a plethora of excuses — it’s your name, and you have the right to insist that people use it. They may get it wrong from time to time, but it matters that they keep trying. If they can’t be bothered, they’re just being jerks.

You don’t want to be a jerk, do you? Not on St. Patrick’s Day! Not on any day!

Just say Paddy.

Here endeth the mythbusting

This post is the third and final post in my 2024 St. Patrick’s Day “mythbusting” series (the other two being Rising Roads and Other Rants and Ramblings and The Saint and the Shamrock). I hope you’ve found them useful, and perhaps been able to educate others about these misconceptions that, unlike the roads, always seem to arise around St. Patrick’s Day!

Here’s wishing you all a fun, happy, and safe St. Patrick’s Day! Lá fheile Pádraig slán sona daoibh!

Featured image “Paddy vs. Patty” designed by Anna “Acey” Nickel for “The Geeky Gaeilgeoir,” © 2024. Use authorized if properly credited. Enjoy Acey’s blog “Simpsons Sundays” at Acey‘s Word Vomit Emporium.

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In addition to being “The Geeky Gaeilgeoir,” Audrey Nickel is the author of  The Irish Gaelic Tattoo Handbook,” published by Bradan Press, Nova Scotia, Canada.  For information about the book, including where to buy it, please visit http://www.bradanpress.com/irish-tattoo-handbook/

PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM UNABLE TO OFFER TRANSLATIONS VIA THIS WEBSITE OR VIA EMAIL. IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A TRANSLATION, PLEASE VISIT THE IRISH LANGUAGE FORUM, WWW.IRISHLANGUAGEFORUM.COM.

The Saint and the Shamrock

It’s almost St. Patrick’s Day! Just about three weeks to go! Grocery stores, drug stores, and big box stores are awash with every imaginable shade of green now that Valentine’s Day pink has faded away, and products ranging from greeting cards to green ravioli vie for shoppers’ attention.

As I mentioned in my post of February 28, 2024, Rising Roads and Other Rants and Ramblings, this is also the time of year when Irish stereotypes and misconceptions come crawling out of the woodwork. In that post I talked about the infamous “May the road rise to meet you” blessing (If you haven’t read that post yet, this is a mistranslation that makes Irish speakers all over the world cringe. Read it. Get your friends and family to read it. Please. I beg you.)

In this post I’d like to talk about another misconception that plagues us at this time of year, specifically the confusion of the ubiquitous shamrock, Ireland’s best-known national symbol, with the four-leaf clover.

Leaves of three

I’m just going to say this up front: The Irish shamrock has three leaves. Period. It doesn’t matter how many cards, posters, or cute outfits feature four-leaf clovers on St. Patrick’s Day, the four-leaf clover is not a symbol of Ireland, nor does it have any particular affinity with Ireland.

That said, for some reason, many people, in the U.S. and elsewhere, continue to confuse the two. While four-leaf clovers do exist, and are considered lucky the world over because of their rarity, the shamrock is indisputably a three-leaf clover.

Why does it matter, you ask? Consider how the shamrock came to be a St. Patrick’s Day icon.

Three in one and one in three

Legend has it that St. Patrick used a sprig of clover to demonstrate the concept of the Holy Trinity when attempting to convert Irish pagans to Christianity. The three leaves joined in the middle was meant to illustrate how one god could exist as three persons. There’s a nice little article on this story here, from Time.com:

Shamrocks Are Everywhere on St. Patrick’s Day. Here’s How the Three-Leaf Clover Became a Symbol of All Things Irish

For what it’s worth, Irish pagans probably wouldn’t have needed (or wanted) such a graphic illustration, given that they were already quite familiar with the concept of a triune god/goddess, but this does underscore the reason why the Irish shamrock must always have three leaves.

The significance of the Holy Trinity to St. Patrick, and to Christianity in general, is further demonstrated in the first section of the well-known “St. Patrick’s Breastplate,” or Lúireach Phádraig, translated and versified thus:

I bind unto myself this day the strong name of the Trinity, by invocation of the same, the three in one and one in three.

The Breastplate of St. Patrick

While the story of St. Patrick, the Trinity, and the shamrock is almost certainly apocryphal, it’s the very reason the three-leafed shamrock has become a symbol of Ireland and an icon of St. Patrick’s Day. So why is it so often confused with the four-leaf clover?

Why the confusion? And what’s so lucky about it?

How did the lucky four-leaf clover come to be confused with the three-leafed Irish shamrock? There are multiple theories, but the one I’m most inclined to believe is that it comes from the California goldrush-era expression “The luck of the Irish.”

Although that phrase likely was originally intended to be sarcastic or derogatory (Ireland’s history, and the history of the Irish in America, not having always been all that lucky), it’s been widely embraced by Irish Americans as a positive expression of Irish fraternity (“If you’re lucky enough to be Irish, you’re lucky enough”).

Given the mixture of a lucky symbol, a saying about Irish luck, and an Irish holiday that widely features a type of clover, confusion is bound to arise and, in my opinion anyway, most likely did.

And speaking of clover…

The real Irish shamrock really IS a type of clover — not the wood sorrel (Oxalis) that is often sold as “shamrock” at this time of year (so often, in fact, that some species of sorrel have acquired the colloquial name “false shamrock”).

The English word “shamrock” comes from the Irish seamróg (rough pronunciation “SHAM-rohg),” a word that combines the word for “clover,” seamair (rough pronunciation “SHAM-er”) with the suffix -óg (rough pronunciation “ohg”), meaning “young”. It simply means “young (or small) clover.”

The actual shamrock is thought to be either Trifolium dubium or Trifolium repens. Which one you prefer may well depend on what part of Ireland you happen to be in, but Trifolium dubium is generally considered to the be most likely candidate.

Wood sorrel does look more like the stylized depiction of shamrocks one tends to see on cards and Aer Lingus planes, and it certainly does make a pretty potted plant (It tastes good too! A little like rhubarb!), but referring to it as “genuine Irish shamrock,” as I’ve often seen on St. Patrick’s Day gift displays, is definitely overstating its qualifications!

Coming up next…

This is the second of a few St. Patrick’s Day language posts I have planned for the lead-up to March 17, 2024. Stay tuned for the next installment: “St. Patrick’s Nickname: Paddy not Patty.”

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In addition to being “The Geeky Gaeilgeoir,” Audrey Nickel is the author of  The Irish Gaelic Tattoo Handbook,” published by Bradan Press, Nova Scotia, Canada.  For information about the book, including where to buy it, please visit http://www.bradanpress.com/irish-tattoo-handbook/

PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM UNABLE TO OFFER TRANSLATIONS VIA THIS WEBSITE OR VIA EMAIL. IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A TRANSLATION, PLEASE VISIT THE IRISH LANGUAGE FORUM, WWW.IRISHLANGUAGEFORUM.COM.

Rising Roads and Other Rants and Ramblings

March 17 is almost upon us! St. Patrick’s Day is wildly popular here in the U.S. (we love an excuse to party!) and, by mid-February, you can hardly walk through a supermarket or drug store without being nearly smothered in green glitter. In fact, just about anything that can conceivably be tinted gets the green treatment — from bagels to beer, and even rivers and fountains.

Even now, just a few days after Lá ‘le Bríde and less than a week before Valentine’s Day, you’ll see plenty of green peeking through the pink, red, and white at places such as Target and Walgreens. And the offensive Facebook memes have already started.

Yes, this is also the time of year when Irish stereotypes good and bad (many having to do with drunkeness) come crawling out of the woodwork. If I never see that “Irish yoga” meme again, it will be too soon!*

A lot of stereotypes and other oddities that we see around St. Patrick’s Day, however, are not offensive — just based on ignorance and misinformation (and usually perpetuated by Hallmark and yes…more internet memes).

Fortunately, you have your very own geek to set you straight (or to help you set your friends straight)!

*If you haven’t seen this meme (yet!), first, aren’t you the lucky one? Inebriated young women passed out in various awkward poses and surrounded by empty bottles, captioned as “Irish Yoga.” It pops up in my Facebook feed every year, despite numerous complaints to the powers that be.

Focus on language

While misconceptions and misattributions are rife at this time of year (don’t get me started on sugary sweet English rhymes masquerading as traditional Irish sayings, and definitely don’t get me started on leprechauns!), given the usual topics I write about, I’ve decided to focus over the next few weeks on a few things related directly to the Irish language, starting with one that sets my teeth on edge every time I hear it. Can you guess which one that is?

(Of course you can. You’ve read the title of this post.)

No road elevations, please!

It’s everywhere. On tea towels and commemorative plaques. On greeting cards and posters. In modern “folk” songs and schmaltzy choral arrangements. On coffee cups, and even on pub walls! The first time I heard it was in the mid ’70s at the end of each and every episode of the old CBC Wednesday-evening Irish Rovers TV show (Usually appended with a bunch of “Oirish-y” sayings and ending with “and may you be a half hour in heaven before the devil knows you’re dead.” I think I was in my 30s before I realized that wasn’t actually a part of the blessing!)

Yep…you guessed it. It’s the The ubiquitous, unavoidable, so-called “ancient Irish blessing.”

You know the one I mean:

“May the road rise to meet you”*

People absolutely love it. I’ve seen people argue vociferously for its validity, even inventing detailed (and wrong) analysis to explain exactly what “May the road rise to meet you” means.

“The ancient Irish believed that…”. [No, they didn’t]

“The road rising is a metaphor for…”. [No, it isn’t]

Nope. None of that. This famous (infamous?) blessing is based on a mistranslation by someone who either didn’t understand Irish idioms or didn’t know that translating word for word from one language to another can be a recipe for disaster.

*Sometimes rendered as “May the road rise up to meet you” or “May the road rise with you.”

Good news: It actually IS Irish

One positive thing about this saying: Unlike a lot of things that appear on greeting cards, etc., it is actually Irish…in fact, it’s the first line of a blessing IN Irish:

Go n-éirí an bóthar leat

Further, it’s clearly based on a misunderstanding of Irish (and possibly even English) idiom, rather than on someone attempting to write something “Celtic-like” (way too much of that out there!) You can see how, if a person weren’t familiar with the often subtle ins and outs of translation, they could have gotten to this point. I mean, if you really are going word for word, it’s obvious, even if it doesn’t make a lot of sense.

Go n-éirí — May rise
an bóthar — the road
leat — with-you (singular)

The problem is, while that may be the literal reading, the phrase doesn’t actually say that. It’s a matter of idiom.

Idioms, idioms!

Before we break this down, let’s take a look at one of the primary definitions of “idiom,” with help from Merriam-Webster.com:

IDIOM 1: an expression in the usage of a language that is peculiar to itself, either grammatically (such as no, it wasn’t me) or in having a meaning that cannot be derived from the conjoined meanings of its elements (such as ride herd on for “supervise”).

English has a lot of idioms for which the meaning can’t be derived from the meanings of its elements (in other words, can’t be taken literally, word for word). For example:

“I ate a ton of chips last night!” (No, I didn’t actually eat 2,000 pounds of chips, though it may have felt like it!)

“It’s raining cats and dogs!” (No, domestic animals aren’t actually falling from the sky!)

What a different a preposition makes!

It should come as no surprise that Irish is rife with idioms too. Most (perhaps all) languages are.

One interesting feature of the language is that certain verbs change meaning when paired with certain prepositions. One classic example is Buail, the basic meaning for which is “hit/strike/beat”:

Bhuail mé Seán aréir: “I hit Seán last night.” (Seán bocht!)

When you pair Buail with the preposition le (with), however, its meaning changes. It becomes “meet”:

Bhuail mé le Seán aréir: I met Seán last night.

You would never translate that sentence as “I hit with Seán last night” (Though I’d love to see the analysis breakdown for that one! “The ancient Irish believed”…no, they didn’t!)

Another word that changes meaning when combined with the preposition le is éirigh — the root form of éirí in the phrase in question.

While the basic meaning of éirigh IS “rise,” in most cases (and this is one of them), éirigh combined with any form of le* means “succeed.”

*Leat is an inflected form of le, and it’s what’s known as a prepositional pronoun. It combines the concept of “with” with the singular form of the word for “you” — tú. For more on prepositional pronouns, see my post from January 2020 — “The Modest Preposition.”

Exceptions, exceptions

Of course there are exceptions. This is a language we’re talking about (and a living language at that!) — there will ALWAYS be exceptions!

In most cases, however, the exceptions are clear cut, and mostly common sense. Éirigh le can mean “rise by/along with/with the aid of,” for example (from Foclóir Gaeilge-Béarla):

Éirí leis na héin — Rise/get up with the lark

D’éirigh an leanbh le cos na cathaoireach — The child got up with the aid of the chair leg.

This sentence doesn’t fall into that category, however. The road isn’t rising with your aid (and, given the construction, neither are you rising with the aid of the road). It falls into the much simpler category — “succeed/pass/manage.” Again, with the aid of Foclóir Gaeilge-Béarla:

D’éirigh leis — he succeeded

D’éirigh léi imeacht — she managed to get away

And an even closer example:

Má éiríonn an scrúdú leo — if they pass the test (i.e., if they are successful with the test).

Put bóthar (road) in the place of scrúdú (test) above, and substitute leat (with-you) for leo (with-them), and you can see what’s happening here:

Go n-éirí an bóthar leat: May you succeed [on/along] the road

But what about that road? (or what does IT really mean?)

Are we speaking of a literal road here? We could be, certainly. If I were wishing someone a safe drive on California’s Highway 17, for example (a truly hairy road!), I might say “go n-éirí an bóthar leat!”

In Irish, however, as in English, the word “road” can also be a metaphor for a journey, and often particularly for a journey through life. Think of these English expressions, for example:

As you travel on the road of life…

It’s a long and a dusty road, it’s a hard and a heavy load*

In fact, it’s a pretty common metaphor, and it’s the generally accepted interpretation among Irish speakers of bóthar in this sentence.

So what it comes down to is:

May you succeed (or prosper) on your journey [through life]

In essence, it’s an Irish bon voyage!

*Lyric from “I can’t help but wonder where I’m bound” by Tom Paxton

Putting it all together

It’s nice (and helpful!) to see things like this in context. In case you haven’t heard/seen the entire blessing in Irish, here it is in full*:

Go n-éirí an bóthar leat,
Go raibh an ghaoth go brách ag do chúl,
Go lonraí an ghrian go te ar d’aghaidh,
Go dtite an bháisteach go mín ar do pháirceanna,
Agus go mbuailimid le chéile arís,
Go gcoinní Dia i mbos a láimhe thú.

May your journey through life be successful/prosper,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
May the rain fall softly upon your fields,
And until we meet together again,
May God keep you in the palm of his hand.

Isn’t it much nicer when you know what you’re saying? And when it’s correct?

Now, the next time someone wishes you a rising road, YOU can set them straight! (Or just point them to this post!).

*There are several Irish language versions of this, all of which would be translated in the same way.

Coming up next…

This is the first of a few St. Patrick’s Day language posts I have planned for the lead-up to March 17, 2024. Stay tuned for the next installment: “The Saint and the Shamrock”.

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In addition to being “The Geeky Gaeilgeoir,” Audrey Nickel is the author of  The Irish Gaelic Tattoo Handbook,” published by Bradan Press, Nova Scotia, Canada.  For information about the book, including where to buy it, please visit http://www.bradanpress.com/irish-tattoo-handbook/

PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM UNABLE TO OFFER TRANSLATIONS VIA THIS WEBSITE OR VIA EMAIL. IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A TRANSLATION, PLEASE VISIT THE IRISH LANGUAGE FORUM, WWW.IRISHLANGUAGEFORUM.COM.

A Little Piece of…Oh Hell No!

For an American Irish speaker, it’s fun, and rather exciting, to find Irish in unexpected places. Well, usually. At least at first.

It can crop up in all kinds of places — novels, jewelry, songs, TV shows and movies…even tattoos. Sometimes it’s even spelled right (or, in the case of a movie or a song, pronounced correctly) and says exactly what it purports to say. Sometimes.

Often, though, the initial rush of glee is followed by a groan (Or, in my case, a shriek of “Oh hell no! Not again!” I tend to be a little dramatic. Stop laughing…), because the sad reality is that, outside of Ireland (and sometimes even inside of Ireland) the Irish is often just horribly, unjustifiably wrong.

Merry Christmas!

I was thrilled this past Christmas morning to discover a couple of boxes from The Irish Store under the tree (thanks, Tony!). This company carries some beautiful stuff, and I’ve long admired their Irish-themed jewelry.

I do have to say that I’m thrilled with my gifts. I wear the Trinity necklace almost every day, and the Claddagh necklace and earrings are slated to make their debut with the outfit I’ve already chosen for St. Patrick’s Day (Yes, I like to plan ahead. Way ahead.).

The presentation boxes they came in though? Not so much. Irish speakers will have already noticed the problems in the photo above I’m sure, but those of you who don’t speak the language, or who are newer learners (or who just want to see how I’m going to dissect this), read on.

A lovely sentiment, but…

Just in case you can’t see the photo, here’s what is inscribed inside the lid of the box:

In big letters, and all caps:

“A LITTLE PIECE OF IRELAND ESPECIALLY FOR YOU”

That’s certainly a lovely sentiment, and particularly apt because many of their products feature Connemara marble — literally a piece of Ireland!

It’s the Irish “translation” in smaller letters below that inscription that’s problematic:

Piósa beag de Éireann speisialta duites

Yeah. It’s got problems. Lots of problems.

Even a broken clock is right twice a day*

There is actually one word in that six-word phrase that’s 100% correct: beag.

The word beag does mean “small/little.” It’s spelled correctly, is in the correct orientation to the word it’s describing, and is correctly configured to modify a masculine noun (for more on masculine and feminine nouns, see my post on “Making Sense of Irish Gender”)

Yay for correct choices! A good teacher always praises the little things. Unfortunately, it’s about the only one in the phrase.

*Unless you have a 24-hour clock, of course, in which case it’s only right once a day!

Starting at the beginning

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again (and again and again): Accent marks matter. Put one in the wrong place, or leave one off where it’s needed, and the word is misspelled, will not be pronounced correctly, and, in some cases, will become a different word entirely.

I wrote a post about this in 2017 that tells you a little about accent marks in Irish (and how to type them on your computer or other device):

Are You a Fada-less Child?

Whoever translated this inscription, however, apparently didn’t get the memo. The very first word of this phrase is meant to be píosa: a word that means “piece/a piece,” and is pronounced PEE-suh (that’s what the accent on the “i” tells you). Unfortunately, what’s written is “piósa” — not an Irish word at all (and God only knows how it would be pronounced. “PYOH-suh,” maybe? Still not a word).

A smaller problem

The next issue with with the preposition de. Fortunately, it’s just a little problem, which befits a little word. *

The good news is they chose the correct preposition here. De means “of/from” in a sense that denotes removal or separation, and that suits the desired meaning perfectly.

The problem is that, before a vowel, as it is in this phrase, de becomes d’.

As a friend of mine put it, this kind of mistake isn’t a capital offense. It’s easy enough to make, especially given that some speakers do articulate such words fully in front of a vowel, even though they wouldn’t write them that way. So I’ll cut them a little slack (but only a little!).

The bigger problem is the word following de: Éireann.

• It’s still a problem, though.

A different case

Most English speakers are blissfully unaware of the issue of grammatical case. In fact, for most of us, the first time we encounter the concept is when we learn another language (if you really want to grapple with case, try Latin).

Irish is usually a relatively easy language in this regard, as typically the only special forms one has to wrestle with are the genitive (which shows possession, or relates one noun to another) and the vocative (used in direct address). There are exceptions though, and guess what one of those is?

Yep…that’s right. The name of the country itself.

If you’ve ever seen an Irish postage stamp, you probably already know that the name of the country in Irish is Éire. So far so good, but that name has two other forms depending on how it’s used in a sentence:

Éireann — the genitive case, used to show a special relationship between nouns, such as possession. When genitive nouns are translated into English, the translation often includes the word “of,” for example Tuisceart Éireann — The North of Ireland, aka Northern Ireland

Éirinn — the dative case, typically used after a preposition.

That’s right — the person who did this translation chose the wrong form. It should be píosa beag d’Éirinn.

You can see what probably happened here, yes? Whoever did the translation probably assumed that the genitive was called for because Éireann is often rendered as “of Ireland” when translated into English, forgetting (or not realizing) that the presence of the preposition de already supplied the “of,” and that the correct form to use was actually the dative Éirinn.

Well, either that or they’d just seen Éireann at some point and decided to run with it, but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt here.

Especially for you

I have no idea how this one happened, because even Google Translate gets it right. Speisialta doesn’t mean “especially.” It means “special”. While there are some constructions in which it can be construed to mean “especially” (for example tá sé speisialta — “it is especially good”), which have more to do with the way English functions than with Irish, that is not the case here. If you want to say “especially” in this context you need the prefix go — go speisialta, or, as I would prefer, go háirithe.

I’m anticipating someone asking “Well, can’t this be construed to mean ‘A special little piece of Ireland for you?” Sorry…you can’t fix it that way. In that case, speisialta would come after beag: píosa beag speisialta.

The final word

Yes, even the very last word in this phrase is wrong (I have to say again, I’m a bit blown away by how the translator managed to get five words wrong in a six-word phrase!)

What they were aiming for was the emphatic form of the prepositional pronoun duit, meaning “to/for you,” which would have been perfectly appropriate here. Unfortunately, the emphatic form of duit is duitse, not “duites.”

In Irish, when you want to make something emphatic, you add the suffix “se” or “sa” to the word. I don’t know if the “translator” didn’t know that and thought it looked wrong, if they made a typo (and didn’t proofread…grrr!), or if this was the fault of some bizarre form of autocorrect, but whatever the case, “duites” is just plain wrong.

For more on prepositions, and the vital role they play in Irish, see here.

Summing it all up

To sum all this up in one handy place, the inscription on the box reads:

Piósa beag de Éireann speisialta duites

What it needed to be is:

Píosa beag d’Éirinn go speisialta (or go háirithe) duitse

Post script

A couple of people have pointed out that, in the picture, it looks like there’s an accent over the second “i” in speisialta. Fortunately, that’s just a trick of the light. It’s correct on the box itself. Good eyes, though, and the people who pointed this out are correct — if there had been an accent there, it would have been a misspelling.

Why I do this (and why it matters)

Sometimes people ask me why I feel the need to tear apart bad translations such as this one. Some say it’s petty, and quote the proverb Is fearr Gaeilge briste ná Bearla cliste (“Broken Irish is better than clever English”).

Well, I have three main reasons, all of which are pretty important to me.

First of all, as a copy editor by profession, it offends me when companies put things out there that they haven’t bothered to have properly translated or verified. It’s really not that hard. There are professional translators out there who would be happy to fix it for you (For a small fee, yes, but when you’re running a business, you have expenses. Such is life). If you don’t want to pay a professional, there are websites out there such as The Irish Language Forum, where there are plenty of folks who will work with you on getting a solid translation (just wait for three to agree!).

Second, these poor translations are injurious to the Irish language. Seriously. Irish is an endangered minority language, and every bad translation out there is harmful to it, especially as poor translations get perpetuated and assimilated. This is especially true when bad translations appear in places where one would expect them to be accurate, such as products from Ireland.

Finally, I see these as an opportunity to teach. Well, to teach and to learn (does that make it four reasons?). When I first started learning Irish, I learned a lot about how the language works by watching experienced speakers dissect translations on “The Irish Gaelic Translation Forum.” Sometimes the best way to really grasp how a language works is to see examples of how it doesn’t. And writing these posts requires me to learn…to ask questions of fluent speakers and learners more experienced than I (even after 20 years, I am, and will always be, a learner).

And as far as Is fearr Gaeilge briste ná Bearla cliste goes, I agree, to a point. People who are learning the language should feel comfortable speaking it or writing it without worrying about their mistakes being ridiculed (or even pointed out, unless they’ve asked for input). That’s how you learn. God knows I make my share of mistakes. But when something is put out there by a company or government entity that should know better, or represented as fact in a tattoo or a book, or, even worse, put out there by a company that publishes learning materials, that saying no longer applies, in my not-so-humble opinion.

Yes, I’m back! (again!)

It’s been a busy (and sometimes rough) few years. COVID. New jobs. COVID. Wild fires. Family losses and tons of stress. Exploding toilets (don’t ask!). Oh, and did I mention COVID?

I’ve got several posts lined up, though, and hope to finally get back into the swing of things! If you have something you’d like to see me address here, give me a shout!

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In addition to being “The Geeky Gaeilgeoir,” Audrey Nickel is the author of  The Irish Gaelic Tattoo Handbook,” published by Bradan Press, Nova Scotia, Canada.  For information about the book, including where to buy it, please visit http://www.bradanpress.com/irish-tattoo-handbook/

PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM UNABLE TO OFFER TRANSLATIONS VIA THIS WEBSITE OR VIA EMAIL. IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A TRANSLATION, PLEASE VISIT THE IRISH LANGUAGE FORUM, WWW.IRISHLANGUAGEFORUM.COM.

Slán, a 2020

The year 2020 has been a rough one for all of us. Some of us have lost loved ones (more than 300,000 in the U.S. alone have died from COVID-19 as of this writing). Some have lost their own health. Many have lost their livelihoods or their homes. Most of us have had to cancel cherished and long-anticipated plans. We’ve all had to adapt to a “new normal,” and many of us have learned that people we once thought of as good and decent have little to no care for others, caring only for their own “FREEEEEE-DUMB.”

Here in my own little part of the world, we’ve dealt with devastating wildfires that drove many of us from our homes and left a good many with no home to return to — and some with loved ones who will never return home at all. We’re mourning the near destruction of an ancient and beloved forest, and we’re still watching the skies nervously for the rain that can cause deadly earth movement in the wake of a wildfire.

Oh yes…let’s not forget “murder hornets.”

No, this is one year I won’t be at all sorry to say goodbye to. To paraphrase a meme currently circulating in Irish language circles, in Ireland it’s traditional to open a door or window on New Year’s Eve to let the old year out — for 2020, we should open all the doors and windows in the hope of getting rid of every last bit of it! I know that I plan to stay up until midnight, by hook or by crook, just so I can throw open the door and scream “good riddance!” when the clock strikes twelve!

Fáilte go 2021

While there’s never a guarantee, I’m holding fast to the hope that the turn of the year heralds better times to come. We now have extremely promising vaccines for COVID-19 and, while the distribution has been slower than promised, still, it IS happening. In the U.S. we’ve elected a new administration that promises to approach the pandemic, as well as the many other ills that threaten both our country and our planet, with the seriousness that they merit. It may not be perfect, but it’s a step in the right direction.

Go mbeirimid beo ag an am seo arís

That said, never in my life has this traditional Irish toast been more poignant: “May we be alive at this time again.” Looking back at 2020, this seems less like a toast and more like a prayer.

Here, then, are my hopes and prayers for 2021:

• May the day come soon when we can all once again walk, work, worship, mingle, embrace, and sing together freely, without fear.
• May ALL our world leaders finally begin to take seriously the evils that plague our species and our planet, from climate change and racism to poverty and war, as well as the toxic “individualism” that fuels most, if not all, of these ills. Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine.
• And yes — may we all live to see another, brighter, New Year’s Eve.

PS: If you are the creator of the image above, or if you know who the creator is, please contact me so I can give you/them proper credit.

Beannachtaí na Bliana Úir Oraibh go Léir!

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In addition to being “The Geeky Gaeilgeoir,” Audrey Nickel is the author of  The Irish Gaelic Tattoo Handbook,” published by Bradan Press, Nova Scotia, Canada.  For information about the book, including where to buy it, please visit http://www.bradanpress.com/irish-tattoo-handbook/

PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM UNABLE TO OFFER TRANSLATIONS VIA THIS WEBSITE OR VIA EMAIL. IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A TRANSLATION, PLEASE VISIT THE IRISH LANGUAGE FORUM, WWW.IRISHLANGUAGEFORUM.COM.

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(The) Rest in Peace

Of all the translation travesties out there, bad translations on tombstones and memorial markers make me the saddest. Someone wanted to honor a loved one or a respected individual with this engraving, didn’t do adequate research, and now their heartfelt sentiment is a laughing stock on the Internet.

The really sad thing is that this particular translation travesty is all OVER the Internet (not only on this person’s memorial), presented as the way to say “Rest in Peace” in Irish.

I guess I don’t need to tell you that it’s horribly, sadly wrong. But you know me — I’m going to tell you anyway. It’s horribly, sadly wrong.

So what’s wrong with it?

As you’ve probably guessed from the title of this post (and from the fact that this is a picture of either a tombstone or some form of memorial marker), whoever commissioned this intended it to say “Rest in Peace.”

Unfortunately, what they have there is not “rest” as in “sleep/repose.” It’s “rest” as in “remainder” (e.g., “I’ll eat the rest of the cookies”).

If that weren’t bad enough, they didn’t even get that right. “The rest” in Irish is “an chuid eile” (literally “the other portion”). Without the definite article “an” (“the”) it’s nonsense. To add insult to injury, “chuid” [sic] is misspelled. Without the definite article, it’s “cuid.”

And then there’s that idiom thing

Wrong word choices and spelling aside, another thing that’s wrong with this is that it’s not how you’d express this sentiment in Irish. Whoever came up with this attempted a direct, word-for-word translation from English, and if you follow this blog you already know that that just does not work.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again (and again and again): Languages are not codes for one another.

(I stole that line from someone long ago, and I can’t remember who, but it’s a good one, so I think I’ll keep it.)

Word-for-word translations rarely work between languages, especially not when the languages are as grammatically and culturally different as Irish is from English.

To begin with, “síocháin,” which means “peace” as in “the absence of conflict,” while not wrong per se, is probably not the word that would be used to express this sentence in Irish. A more usual choice would be “suaimhneas“– “tranquility/rest/repose.”

In addition, when we wish a particular state or emotion on a person, we don’t say they’re “in” that state, we say that state is “on” them: “Suaimhneas air/uirthi/orthu” (“Peace/rest on him/her/them”).

This brings up yet another point: In many cases, when translating to Irish, you need to know what pronoun to use. Irish loves pronouns, and will happily use them where a verb might be used in English. If you’re speaking of a person or animal you often need to know either the gender (or the preferred pronouns, in the case of a person) to translate correctly.

“Air” = “on him”

“Uirthi” = “on her”

“Orthu” = “on them

A phrase that you will see on Irish tombstones is “Suaimhneas Síoraí Air” or “Go Raibh Suaimhneas Síoraí Air” — “Eternal Rest be Upon Him” (apply correct pronoun as required). This is the closest you can get in Irish to a direct translation of “Rest in Peace.”

Another phrase you’ll see frequently is “Ar dheis Dé go Raibh a Anam/a hAnam/a nAnam” — “May his soul/her soul/their souls be at God’s right hand.”

How did it get this way?

When we see a terrible translation such as this, the first impulse is to blame machine translation, which doesn’t handle Irish well at all.

With that in mind, I checked Google “translate” to see what it would make of the English phrase “Rest in Peace.” Depending on the capitalization (Google “translate” is weirdly case-dependent), it returned:

Rest in Peace: No translation

Rest in peace: No translation

rest in peace: scíth a ligean — “to take one’s rest/ease”

I’m guessing that, if machine translation was used to produce this, it wasn’t Google.

The horrifying thing, though, is if you plug “Chuid Eile i Síocháin” into Google seeking an English translation, it does give you “Rest in Peace.” Even more horrifying is the fact that you can’t change it. It gives you a chance to “offer a better translation,” but not to say “this makes absolutely no sense.

It’s possible someone used a different machine translator to arrive at this. It’s also possible someone asked a friend/relative who grossly misrepresented their facility with the language.

It’s also possible that the person attempted a word-for-word “translation” from an English-Irish dictionary and (predictably) got it wrong. We may never know for sure.

It’s even likely that whoever commissioned this stone found this “translation” on the Internet. There’s a lot of really bad Irish on the Internet, which underscores the lessons to be learned from this and all other bad Irish translation:

Do not — I repeat, DO NOT — attempt to translate from English to Irish yourself unless you’re fluent in the language. Do not simply use something you found on the Internet (or in a book, or in a song, etc.) without verifying it with an expert. Finally, if you’re not using a paid human translator (which you really should do, if possible), make sure at least THREE PEOPLE AGREE, on the correct translation before doing anything permanent with it. Preferably three people from different sources.

I, and the Irish language, will thank you.

P.S.: I don’t know who took the photo above or to whom the memorial is dedicated. If anyone does know who took the picture, please let me know so I can give them credit.

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In addition to being “The Geeky Gaeilgeoir,” Audrey Nickel is the author of  The Irish Gaelic Tattoo Handbook,” published by Bradan Press, Nova Scotia, Canada.  For information about the book, including where to buy it, please visit http://www.bradanpress.com/irish-tattoo-handbook/

PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM UNABLE TO OFFER TRANSLATIONS VIA THIS WEBSITE OR VIA EMAIL. IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A TRANSLATION, PLEASE VISIT THE IRISH LANGUAGE FORUM, WWW.IRISHLANGUAGEFORUM.COM.

Of all the translation travesties out there, bad translations on tombstones and memorial markers make me the saddest.

Welcome to the World of Welsh!

(Grumble grumble…this is my first time using the new WordPress editor, and I’m not a fan. Come on, WordPress! If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!)

Ahem…That said, I have a very happy announcement to make: The Celtic Tattoo Handbook series has a new member! Here’s a big Irish fáilte to the much-anticipated Welsh Tattoo Handbook, the ultimate “think before you ink” guide to using the Welsh language in tattoos, crafts, and jewelry.

Written by fluent Welsh speakers Robert and Meagan Davis and published by Bradan Press of Halifax, Nova Scotia (the same company that publishes The Scottish Gaelic Tattoo Handbook and The Irish Gaelic Tattoo Handbook), this book is much more than a glossary of well-vetted Welsh phrases (though it is that as well).

Like its predecessors, it provides a wealth of information about the language and the people who speak it, including its history and interesting linguistic features, folklore and symbolism associated with Wales, and advice on getting a good translation, should you not find the one you’re looking for in the book itself, or should you need to adapt one of the glossary entries.

There is also a chapter showcasing real Welsh tattoos gone wrong (with detailed information as to WHY they’re wrong) and yes — a fully indexed glossary of Welsh phrases you can use with confidence.

Not just for tattoos

Despite the name, you don’t have to be a tattoo seeker to benefit from, and enjoy, this book. The translations can be used for everything from art projects to T-shirts to tombstones — anything for which you might want a Welsh translation.

In addition, reading about the translation process and getting a feel for how phrases from one language may be expressed very differently in another language is invaluable for any language learner. It’s really a must-have for anyone interested in Wales or in the Welsh language.

You can get The Welsh Tattoo Handbook from Amazon (pretty much everywhere) or Barnes & Noble (in the U.S.), as well as from Nimbus or Chapters Indigo (in Canada). Alternatively, you can ask your local bookseller to order it for you, or even to stock it (a great way to support both a minority language and local booksellers!)

On this auspicious occasion, I thought it would be appropriate to talk a little bit about Welsh, for readers who may be less familiar with it, and about the Celtic languages in general.

But first, there’s something you really, really need to know:

It’s “Welsh,” not “Welsh Gaelic”

Please, engrave this on the inside of your eyelids if that’s what it takes. I can’t begin to count the number of times someone’s said something like this to me:

“My cousin speaks Welsh Gaelic.”

“Do you speak Welsh Gaelic?”

“I want to speak Welsh Gaelic!”

No, they don’t. No, I don’t. And no, you can’t. Do you know why?

It’s very simple: Welsh is not a Gaelic language.

Repeating for those in the back:

Welsh is not a Gaelic Language

In other words, there’s no such thing as “Welsh Gaelic.” Welsh is a Celtic language, yes indeed…but not Gaelic.

Celtic does not (necessarily) mean Gaelic

There appears to be a great deal of confusion surrounding the terms “Celtic” and “Gaelic.” Some people think they’re synonyms (they’re not). Some people seem to associate both terms exclusively with Ireland and Scotland (it’s broader than that). So here’s a brief rundown:

We get the word “Celt” from the Greek “Keltoi,” which the Greeks used to define a loosely affiliated group of European tribes that shared similar cultural and linguistic features.

From a linguistic standpoint, “Celtic” refers to a family of Indo-European languages that descended from an ancestor known as “Proto-Celtic” and share similar characteristics. These languages as we currently know them are Irish (Gaeilge), Scottish Gaelic (Gàidhlig), Manx (Gaelg), Welsh (Cymraeg), Cornish (Kernewek), and Breton (Brezhoneg).

One family, two branches

There are two distinct branches that make up the Insular Celtic language family (that is, the Celtic languages of the islands of Great Britain, Ireland, and Man, and of the Brittany region of France): The Q-Celtic or Goidelic (Gaelic) branch and the P-Celtic or Brythonic (British) branch. Irish, Scottish Gaelic, and Manx belong to the Goidelic branch, and are the only languages that can rightly be called “Gaelic.”

In fact, one term in Irish for an Irish person is Gael.

Welsh, on the other hand, belongs to the Brythonic branch, along with Breton and Cornish.

Family resemblance

I mentioned above that the Celtic languages share similar characteristics. Some of these include a verb-subject-object (VSO) structure, initial mutations (i.e., changes that happen to the beginnings of words in certain grammatical circumstances), and conjugated pronouns.

They also all have a tendency to be more “wordy” than English, which is why short, pithy English sayings are often longer and less punchy when translated.

But similarities do not a single language make, and it doesn’t take a degree in linguistics to see that, while there are similarities, there are also significant differences. Consider the popular tattoo translation request “Dance as if no one is watching” (taken from the respective tattoo handbooks):

Irish: Déan damhsa amhail is nach bhfuil éinne ag féachaint

Welsh: Dawnsier fel pe bai neb yn gwylio

You don’t have to speak either language to figure out that those will sound as different from each other as they look!

The Celtic languages make for fascinating study, and if you’re interested (you’re interested in at least one, or you wouldn’t be reading this blog, right?), a web search will net way more scholarly information than I can provide here. Wikipedia is a good place to start.

So we’ve spoken a bit about what Welsh is NOT. Now let’s talk about something far more interesting: what it IS. Here are some interesting facts about the Welsh language:

A vibrant, living language

Welsh is the most widely spoken Celtic language, with more than 500,000 speakers, and the Welsh government has a goal of one million speakers by the year 2050. It is the only Celtic language not classified as “threatened.”

It is one of the national languages of Wales, and is also spoken by a small number of people in Patagonia, in Argentina, the result of a migration of Welsh people to the region in the 1800s. Patagonian Welsh, though influenced by Spanish, is understandable to Welsh speakers in Wales, and is considered a distinct dialect of the Welsh language.

Speaking of dialects, Welsh has two primary dialects: North Walian and South Walian. It also has a formal, literary form that differs significantly from the everyday, spoken form of the language.

And speaking of literature, Welsh has a wealth of it, extending back into the Bardic tradition. Welsh poetry, with its distinctive structure, alliteration, and “vowel harmony” is a particularly rich source for meaningful tattoo translations.

Oh, and another literary note: J.R.R. Tolkien was very taken with Welsh, and based one of his Elvish languages on it (sadly, he wasn’t a fan of Irish, but nobody’s perfect).

While Welsh, like the other Celtic languages, uses the same Latin letters as English does (minus J,K,Q,V, and X), it uses them differently (as do the other Celtic languages), and an English speaker cannot presume to know how a Welsh word is pronounced by applying English phonics.

Another interesting fact about Welsh orthography is that it makes extensive use of the letters “w” and “y” to represent vowel sounds (something that becomes abundantly obvious the more you look at phrases in the language). It also has a number of cases in which a double consonant represents a single sound and is considered to be a single letter.

Buy the book

There is so, so much more to this fascinating, musical language than I can begin to cover here. If you have any interest in the Celtic languages, whether you’re looking for a tattoo translation or not, it belongs in your library.

And if you ARE looking for a Welsh tattoo translation, all I can say is what are you waiting for?

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In addition to being “The Geeky Gaeilgeoir,” Audrey Nickel is the author of  The Irish Gaelic Tattoo Handbook,” published by Bradan Press, Nova Scotia, Canada.  For information about the book, including where to buy it, please visit http://www.bradanpress.com/irish-tattoo-handbook/

PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM UNABLE TO OFFER TRANSLATIONS VIA THIS WEBSITE OR VIA EMAIL. IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A TRANSLATION, PLEASE VISIT THE IRISH LANGUAGE FORUM, WWW.IRISHLANGUAGEFORUM.COM.

Live, Love, Huh?!

Haigh, a chairde!

I’ve been racking my brains lately, trying to thing of something to write about after six months of COVID hiatus. Adjusting to working from home  (yes, I have a day job), and dealing with the stress, worry, and day-to-day concerns really took their toll on the creative process.

Then, two days ago, I opened up Facebook and there, right in front of me, was this gem of a bad Irish tattoo, shared to my page by a friend (Thanks, Máire Uí Brádaigh! Facebook friends rock!)

Woo hoo! Problem solved! Writer’s block broken!

A common (i.e., overdone) request

Ever since I began learning Irish, in  2004, “Live Laugh Love” or some variant thereof (some want “Live Love Laugh” or “Laugh Live Love”) has been the single most common tattoo translation request among women.

(Seriously, if you’re looking for something original, this ain’t it)

Why they want it in Irish I have no idea, but want it they do. If my experience is any indicator, there must be hundreds of women with some version of this permanently marked on their skin in Irish — the lucky/smart ones in good Irish. The others, not so much. Three guesses as to which this person is.

Suffice it to say that what she has on her back is NOT “Live Laugh Love” — in “Gaelic” or in any other language.

(By the way, if you’re curious, the single most common tattoo translation among men is some variation on “None but God may judge me/Only God can judge me.” Dudes can be unoriginal too.)

So what does it REALLY say? “Live…?”

So if it doesn’t say “Live Laugh Love,” what does it say? Let’s start with the first word: Beo.

English is full of words that are spelled the same way but that sound different and have different meanings (the technical name for these is “heteronyms”). “Live” is a prime example. If you pronounce it to rhyme with “give” it is a verb meaning, depending on context, “exist,” “survive,” “enjoy/experience life,” etc.

If you pronounce it to rhyme with “hive,” however, it is an adjective meaning “alive” or “living” (for example “live bait,” i.e., bait that is alive).

When people with a limited understanding of how languages work attempt to do their own translations (note: this is a very bad idea), they tend to forget this tiny detail. You can read more about this in another blog post I wrote a while back: “It’s a Long Life with a Bad Tattoo.

To put it simply, our tattooed friend grabbed the wrong one. “Beo” means “Alive.”

The laughing stud horse?

The second word (really a non-word) is causing a great deal of hilarity on the Irish-speaking internet because, at first glance, it looks like the “translator” intended to write “stud horse.”

Fortunately (I guess), she kind of missed the mark there, as the word for a stud horse is Graíre and what she has there is “Gráire.” The presence (or lack) and placement of an accent mark makes a huge difference in Irish. Put it in the wrong place, leave it out, or put it in when it isn’t called for, and you have a different word.

For more on this: Are You a Fada-less Child?

So the sort-of good news is that she doesn’t have “stud horse.” The bad news is she has nothing at all. “Gráire” isn’t a word in Irish.

It’s likely the person was aiming for “Gáire” — “Laughter/a Laugh.” What she has, though, is nonsense.

Of course, this hasn’t stopped people from making jokes about “Alive Shergar Love” (Americans feel free to substitute “Secretariat” for “Shergar”).

And then there’s grá

As the saying goes, even a broken clock is right twice a day (well, an analog one anyway!). “Grá” does indeed mean “love,” but it’s a noun, not a verb.

There is a verb “love” in Irish — gráigh — but it’s rarely used. A more usual way of telling someone to love would be tabhair grá : “give love.”

How does this happen?

There are lots of different ways that this kind of mis-translation can happen. One of the most common is a misguided attempt to do a word-for-word translation using a dictionary.

It would be handy if languages worked that way (All you’d have to do is memorize a bunch of vocabulary and bingo! You’d have another language!). Unfortunately for would-be translators, they don’t.

Aside from such pitfalls as the aforementioned heteronyms, the fact is that different languages just work differently. Some examples:

English: Thank you

Irish: Go raibh maith agat (literally “may there be good to-you”)

English: I love you

Irish: Tá grá agam duit (literally “Is love at-me to-you”)

Here’s a pretty classic (and horrifying on many levels) example of what can happen when someone attempts a translation using a dictionary: Even Racists Got the Blues.

Sometimes this happens because someone asks a friend or family member who misrepresents his or her level of Irish. Sadly, this happens way more often than it should. The reality is that true fluency in Irish is rare, even in Ireland, and people who are truly fluent are often reluctant to do this kind of translation for various reasons.

So how DO you say it?

As I mentioned above, this is an extremely common tattoo translation request, and various Irish forums have struggled with the best way to express it.

To express it using verbs is kind of awkward, and can be ambiguous. Irish isn’t English. “Simple” translations often aren’t all that simple.

What I usually suggest is to use nouns:

Beatha Gáire Grá — Life Laughter Love

Show some respect

It’s OK to want a tattoo in Irish. Just , whatever you do, please have enough respect for the language and the culture to get it right. Spend the time and, if necessary, spend the money to get a solid translation. This language isn’t a toy for you to use to make yourself feel “special” or “unique.”

If you need help, drop me a line in the comments below and I can give you some guidance.

Le meas,

GG

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In addition to being “The Geeky Gaeilgeoir,” Audrey Nickel is the author of  The Irish Gaelic Tattoo Handbook,” published by Bradan Press, Nova Scotia, Canada.  For information about the book, including where to buy it, please visit http://www.bradanpress.com/irish-tattoo-handbook/

PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM UNABLE TO OFFER TRANSLATIONS VIA THIS WEBSITE OR VIA EMAIL. IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A TRANSLATION, PLEASE VISIT THE IRISH LANGUAGE FORUM, WWW.IRISHLANGUAGEFORUM.COM.

St. Patrick’s Day and being Irish in the time of COVID-19

So, a chairde, this is not the post I thought I would be sharing today.

For the past several weeks I’ve been working on a post on what it means to say “I’m Irish.” It’s something several friends on both sides of the question have asked me to address — why it is that Irish-Americans insist on referring to themselves as “Irish.”

It’s something that really bothers some people, and a culture clash that seemed ripe for the sharing near St. Patrick’s Day. I get it. I’ve been working on it with the goal of publishing today, and I have to say that, as of yesterday morning, I was no more than three paragraphs short of giving it a final proof and hitting “publish.”

But in the end I couldn’t do it. Because, while there are valid arguments on both sides (“My grandfather came from Ireland!” “You’re not Irish, you’re American! Deal with it!”), right now, I can’t make myself focus on things that divide us.

So much has changed

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been two weeks since the reality of the coronavirus exploded here in Northern California. Within 48 hours we went from “This is something we should maybe be worried about” to out-and-out panic. The reality of what was happening in China, Iran, and Italy suddenly became our reality (yeah…sometimes we’re a little slow on the uptake).

Now Italy is on lockdown. Ireland is on lockdown. Parts of the U.S. are “containment areas.” Our government tells us that our friends from Europe are no longer welcome here. Resorts here on the California Central Coast have turned into quarantine wards.

A little thing, but…

In the light of all this, it seems that the question of who is entitled to call themselves “Irish” is a pretty minor thing, as is the widespread cancellation of St. Patrick’s Day festivities. Parades, masses, sessions…those can be rescheduled, yes? Semantics and identity can be debated another day.

At the same time these minor things are the things that really hit us where we live, right? Somehow it’s a lot easier to accept the the Dow plummeting that it is to come to grips with the cancellation of seasonal festivities. That makes it personal.

And, while it’s undeniably an issue, let’s be honest: In the face of all this, does the question of who says “I’m Irish” really matter?

What has the Irish language ever done for you?

A few days ago, a friend asked me what value I’ve found in learning Irish. And I have to say, there’s been one heck of a lot.

There’s the satisfaction of learning a new language, which is pretty amazing, when you think of it. Another way to communicate. To a wordsmith, there is no greater joy.

There’s the connection to a culture that has drawn me from the time I was a teenager and first fell in love with Irish traditional music. I can’t begin to explain to you just how much that has meant to me. It’s a connection to my soul.

And yes…there’s the tremendous satisfaction of confounding telemarketers! (“I’m sorry ma’am. No one here speaks Chinese.” Somewhere in Connemara, Yu Ming is laughing!)

But, in the final analysis, the greatest gift Irish has given me is you.

The community I’ve found through Irish is easily the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Some of you are singers, some of you are poets or teachers, some of you are learners, some of you are fluent, or even native speakers. Some of you have no interest in learning the language at all, but have come into my life through Irish music. You come from the U.S. and Canada, from Germany and from England and from Brazil and from Japan, and, of course (where else?) from Ireland.

And in realizing this, I also realized that, in the face of this worldwide challenge, the last thing I wanted to focus on is something that divides us. It doesn’t matter what “Irish” means. What really matters is who we are, and what we have in common.

So what will you do on St. Patrick’s Day?

There’s no doubt that this year is going to be way different from other years. St. Patrick’s Day’s celebrations have been canceled from Dublin to New York!

I don’t know what you will do on March 17, but here’s what I will do:

I will reach out to my friends around the world, and rejoice in this language we share.

I will sing and make music, because that’s what I do.

I will hold my loved ones close.

I will walk outside and revel in the beauty that surrounds me.

And I will pray that next year we will look back on this time as something we got through together.

Is sibhse mo mhuintir. Is sibhse mo chroí. Is sibhse amhrán m’anama.

Le meas is le grá,

GG

* The featured image in this post was taken in Glencolmcille, Co. Donegal, in July, 2008. Glen Head and a dramatic Donegal sunset.

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In addition to being “The Geeky Gaeilgeoir,” Audrey Nickel is the author of  The Irish Gaelic Tattoo Handbook,” published by Bradan Press, Nova Scotia, Canada.  For information about the book, including where to buy it, please visit http://www.bradanpress.com/irish-tattoo-handbook/

PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM UNABLE TO OFFER TRANSLATIONS VIA THIS WEBSITE OR VIA EMAIL. IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A TRANSLATION, PLEASE VISIT THE IRISH LANGUAGE FORUM, WWW.IRISHLANGUAGEFORUM.COM.