St. Patrick's Day 2005 pictures from Key Largo FL  reunion

Dear Rabbit:
Just a couple of shots from Snapper's. 
 
Once it started raining people were putting boxes and bags over their heads and  danced... 

Jen

see last years photos 2004 here

 

Send me yours at ohare@broadchannel1.com    Check out were we stayed.

Bill Shilling as "The Leprecaun"

Bill dresses like this every year on St. Patrick's Day. Notice his shirt is on backwards.

Ed Phillip's doing his famous "Beer Box Dance".

Kid's don't try this at home. To get the moves right you must first drink all the contents in the box, then line the bottles up in a circle.

The girls think Ed's funny too.

Now this is getting out-of-hand.

This is how you can get people to leave in a hurry

We don't quite know whats going on here

Sue said she's going to join the act next year.

Santa Claus said to be good.

Here comes the storm

Guess who??? His initals are E.P.

A view of Broad Channel people at Snappers

Everyone enjoying St Patricks Day 2005

The Pilot House in Key Largo served Cornbeef for all of us.

Dancing to Irish music.

More Snappers views

Joan & George Rafferty had 66 guests at their St. Patricks Day party.

 

Key Largo St Patrick's Day 2005

 

Ireland

We Irish pride ourselves as patriots
and tell the beadroll of the valiant ones
since Clontarf's sunset saw the Norsemen broken...
Aye, and before that too we had our heroes:
but they were mighty fighters and victorious.
The later men got nothing save defeat,
hard transatlantic sidewalks or the scaffold...

We Irish, vainer than tense Lucifer,
are yet content with half-a-dozen turf,
and cry our adoration for a bog,
rejoicing in the rain that never ceases,
and happy to stride over the sterile acres,
or stony hills that scarcely feed a sheep.
But we are fools, I say, are ignorant fools
to waste the spirit's warmth in this cold air,
to spend our wit and love and poetry
on half-a-dozen peat and a black bog.

We are not native here or anywhere.
We were the keltic wave that broke over Europe,
and ran up this bleak beach among these stones:
but when the tide ebbed, were left stranded here
in crevices, and ledge-protected pools
that have grown saltier with the drying up
of the great common flow that kept us sweet
with fresh cold draughts from deep down in the ocean.

So we are bitter, and are dying out
in terrible harshness in this lonely place,
and what we think is love for usual rock,
or old affection for our customary ledge,
is but forgotten longing for the sea
that cries far out and calls us to partake
in his great tidal movements round the earth.

By, John Hewett, From Collected Poems,