Welcome to “Things Worth Remembering,” in which writers recall wisdom from the past that we should commit to heart. Earlier this year, Bari’s editorial assistant Sean Fischer told the profoundly moving story of his mom being misdiagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. Today, the day before St. Patrick’s Day, he reflects on a book that helped him through one of the darkest chapters of his life—via the wisdom of his Irish ancestors.
Every March, in the early days of spring, my dad would bring out our Irish flag. He’d raise it proudly, while reminding us that he wasn’t just unfurling it for St. Patrick’s Day, but to honor the heritage of his mother, Eleanor Donohue.
She wasn’t born in Ireland, but her grandparents were, and their Celtic roots hung in the air of my youth. You could find them in the blessings we’d say before meals, the lilt of the songs my grandfather would sing, the name my parents gave me. But most conspicuously, they appeared in a gift I received from my aunt a few years ago, a book of Celtic wisdom that sustained me through one of the hardest chapters of my life.
