The Fook of The Irish. Still With Me After 25 Years.

March 17, 1984 was a sunny but brisk day in Midtown Manhattan. I was a writer/producer with USA Network and that day I was on a mission: I had to get across 5th Avenue before 12 noon from my office at Rockefeller Center to the Reeves Teletape post production facility on the east side, near the United Nations. The annual St. Patrick's Day Parade was famous for bottling up foot traffic moving cross town and I had a date in 15 minutes to produce a series of
on-air promotion announcements for the network.

I hustled across 44th Street and it was about 11:50am when I reached the west side of 5th Avenue. Even though the Parade had yet to begin (the only day of the year when traffic moves UP 5th Avenue!) the police lines were up. I was about to duck under the police line and scurry across 5th Avenue when I was stopped in my tracks by a beautiful voice with a fine Irish lilt. "Sahr...or Sahr? Would ya like to buy a fine carnation on this glorious St. Patty's Day?", she queried. She was the quintessential Irish lass -short in stature, auburn hair, freckled with ruddy cheeks that were more raw than the blustery weather itself. She thrust forward a cardboard tray that was laden with green carnations for my consideration.

"No thanks.", I answered. "I gotta get across 5th while the getting is good."

"But sahr, you wouldn't disappoint me..not on St. Patty's Day.", she implored.

My temper was short and my judgement was a bit clouded from being in such a rush - and maybe, just maybe I was a bit ignorant about the battle that was currently raging for the control of Ulster between the forces of Her Majesty's army and the I.R.A. "Listen, you know what will happen if I buy a green carnation from you? The money will just go into the I.R.A. coffers and be used to buy guns to kill the good boys of the United Kingdom!" "That was that.", I mused to myself. "Game. Set and match!". I scrambled under the police line and took one step across 5th Avenue - but was immediatley pierced by a high-pitched, raging voice.

"Fine, ya English bastard! I'll give ya the carnation for nuttin' if ya shuve it up your fookin'
ass!!!!", she roared. The crowd in the immediate area began to applaud this tiny albeit ferocious
Irish freedom fighter. Knowing I was out-gunned, I took a couple of additional steps into 5th Avenue, then offered her an exaggerated, reverse bow. "As you wish", I offered. It was a pitiful effort on my part to gain redemption after being verbally roughshod over, courtesy of my total ignorance of the real dynamics that were fueling the Irish-British street war in Belfast.

In the quarter century since I experienced "The fook of the Irish", I have visited The Republic of
Ireland. It is indeed a majestic, mysterious and inspirational place -and the people there are nothing short of "just grand". I have also travelled extensively throughout the United Kingdom, but sadly I have not set eyes upon Ulster. These travels have afforded me a vast historical perspective of why the Irish and the British feel the way they do with respect to the ongoing problem of Northern Ireland. It is my sincerest hope that all Irish and all British can live in understanding and harmony - now and into the future!

Happy St. Patrick's Day to all, and to all a good night!

This is The Count....Out!