He calls him Boyo, the Irish word for lad. Being a Murphy, the name seems to fit. We fell in love with Ireland 25 years ago, so much so that we named our son Conor after Conor Larkin, the hero of Leon Uris’ novel, Trinity. Back then, when we left to fly back home, Rick and I shook hands that we would be back within 10 years. Well, better late than never, we did get back to Ireland last summer, with our boyo, Conor.

On that first trip we discovered Dick Mack’s Pub in Dingle. What a place! Inside, about 10 feet of space divides the pub and a leather work shop. The whole wonderful place is frozen in time, when you would stop in for a pint and get a new leather key fob (or belt or shoes…). Twenty-five years ago, we did just that. As we sipped on Guiness, the leatherworker crafted 3 personalized leather key fobs stamped with Murphy, a number (1-3) for each Murphy brother, and finished each one with a stamped harp.  #1 would be for Rick’s older brother Jack, #2 for Rick (the middle boyo), and #3 for younger brother Jimmy. To continue the tradition we had started so long ago, our boyo Conor wanted to be #4. As he watched his fob being created, he sipped on his first freshly poured Guiness.

We knew this “Murphy rite of passage” would be fun for Conor to experience, but we never imagined that it would mean so much to him to be Murphy #4 (being his own man, he chose a Celtic symbol instead of the harp for his finishing touch). As we left Dick Mack’s and headed down the slopey hill of Dingle, he declared that when he has kids, he will surely bring his son or daughter to Dick Mack’s for their leather fob (and hopefully their first Guiness).

For Rick (a.k.a Murph, Murphy #2), that’s what it’s all about.

Happy Father’s Day to Murphy #1 & #2, you and yours….and Slainte!

Love, Nora

 



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