of all the gin joints in all the world
One cold, wet night in Limerick, Ireland, December 2011, we stood on a street corner, balanced the camera on stone fence, and started recording a performance of what we somehow thought was the most creative display of poetic irony since Yeats. In alternating lines...
"We arrived in this town real quick
Drank Guinness until we were sick
But we won't moan
We'll just write a poem
I think, we'll call it a limerick"
Coulda been the Willie Nelson; Coulda been the wine.
Or maybe just the four previous days we spent cooped up in a porous excuse for a campervan. Or the two hours we had actually spent drinking Guinness in a pub in Limerick. Or just the pure joy of exploration, this time -- for the first time -- overseas, just the two of us, after quitting our jobs.
Luckily, no one has yet seen the evidence of this event. Through a series of unbelievable circumstances, the camera was lost, and so this moment lives on only in our memories.
But on occasion, when we reminisce about that and other similar times, we usually end up saying, "remember back when we were young and in love".
Its a curious saying, perhaps suggesting that love has faded some, and we are now old. Yet, each year, upon an anniversary or a romantic dinner, when we again reminisce of the most recent passing of time, the "back when we were young and in love" time period just keeps growing.
And so it goes. Within the daily routine, the highs, and the lows, we live with the same joy for life and love for each other that surfaced unbridled with our first -- and thankfully only -- poetry performance.
Someday, perhaps, we will be "old and in love". But until then, play it again Sam.