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In honor of St. Patty’s Day, I’m feeling the need to share a fond memory.
It was our second trip to Dublin, sometime in late January of 2003, and on our first night out walking we noticed a major construction project taking place in the middle of O’Connell Street. We learned from a tour bus guide that a spire was being erected. It was originally conceived to commemorate the new millennium, but had gotten way behind schedule, and was finally close to completion. That whole week we watched people stop on the sidewalk to stare up at the half-finished spindle of steel, perplexed as to what made it so awe-inspiring.
With only a day or so left, we woke up and for no particular reason had the news on in our hotel room. A reporter announced that the final piece of the spire was going to be put in place within the hour, and since we were walking distance from the action we decided to go and bear witness to a moment in Irish history. O’Connell street was clogged with bodies for blocks, everyone bundled in thick coats and hats, bursting with anticipation as several men maneuvered a large crane, hoisting a pointy steel cylinder high above our heads. For the next hour or so it was raise and lower, raise and lower, trying to align the piece just so with the rest of the structure, so it would slide into place and complete the project. I was somewhat impatient with this process, but also anxious to see its completion, now that I was invested in the excitement of the moment along with all the rest of these people.
Eventually, M and I gave up, and walked away from the spectacle somewhat disappointed, if only because we had purchased tickets for a train tour for the same day, and needed to start walking toward the station in order to get there on time. We turned away from the crowds and the crane, sort of looking behind us the whole way, and were lucky enough to still be within eye- and earshot when the piece was finally set into place and a loud, collective hooray, erupted. I felt the joy as well, and realized that sometimes the simplest things can be the greatest source of happiness.
I don’t know if this account does this moment justice, because I know I’m rushing through it and not really fleshing it out, but believe me when I say this was a profound experience. Hopefully I’ll have more time to elaborate later.
It was our second trip to Dublin, sometime in late January of 2003, and on our first night out walking we noticed a major construction project taking place in the middle of O’Connell Street. We learned from a tour bus guide that a spire was being erected. It was originally conceived to commemorate the new millennium, but had gotten way behind schedule, and was finally close to completion. That whole week we watched people stop on the sidewalk to stare up at the half-finished spindle of steel, perplexed as to what made it so awe-inspiring.
With only a day or so left, we woke up and for no particular reason had the news on in our hotel room. A reporter announced that the final piece of the spire was going to be put in place within the hour, and since we were walking distance from the action we decided to go and bear witness to a moment in Irish history. O’Connell street was clogged with bodies for blocks, everyone bundled in thick coats and hats, bursting with anticipation as several men maneuvered a large crane, hoisting a pointy steel cylinder high above our heads. For the next hour or so it was raise and lower, raise and lower, trying to align the piece just so with the rest of the structure, so it would slide into place and complete the project. I was somewhat impatient with this process, but also anxious to see its completion, now that I was invested in the excitement of the moment along with all the rest of these people.
Eventually, M and I gave up, and walked away from the spectacle somewhat disappointed, if only because we had purchased tickets for a train tour for the same day, and needed to start walking toward the station in order to get there on time. We turned away from the crowds and the crane, sort of looking behind us the whole way, and were lucky enough to still be within eye- and earshot when the piece was finally set into place and a loud, collective hooray, erupted. I felt the joy as well, and realized that sometimes the simplest things can be the greatest source of happiness.
I don’t know if this account does this moment justice, because I know I’m rushing through it and not really fleshing it out, but believe me when I say this was a profound experience. Hopefully I’ll have more time to elaborate later.
