Best Roadhouse This Side of Austin - Irish American News

June 2008 IRISH AMERICAN NEWS 13hMikeooliganismHoulihan“Everybody’s doin’ it.”That’s what I told my brotherwhen we learned he was gonna dieearlier this year. I know that soundslike a harsh retort but Willie alwaysenjoyed a sardonic quip.Getting old sucks, everybodyagrees on that. You find yourselfrecognizing more and more names inthe Irish scratch sheet every day.So I’m declaring a moratoriumon any Hooliganism columns dealingwith dead people… right afterthis one.When I opened the paper lastmonth I was shocked to see thatTrish O’Connell Frawley had diedsuddenly. See Trish was still a younglady, the 1982 St. Patrick’s Day paradequeen, and I remember seeingher at plenty of Irish functions overthe years.Her ex-husband Tom Frawley toldme, “Tricia’s pride and joy was our11 year old daughter Mary Clare…and even though we were divorced,she was my PAL! There wasn’t aday that went by that we did notspeak! Quite frankly, we were betterdivorced than married.”That’s probably true of a lot ofIrish couples.Tom is planning on organizinga tribute CD to Trish and donatingproceeds to the American HeartAssociation with music from JoeMcShane, Catherine O’Connell (hercousin), and Kathleen Keane. Watchfor news on how to purchase the CDin upcoming Irish American News.Her cousin told me, “We lost agreat girl in our Trish.”It’s true when they tell ya only thegood die young. The Irish landscapearound Chicago will be lonelier nowwithout this beautiful flower, PatriciaO’Connell Frawley. God bless you,Trish.**********The young mother’s passing gotme to thinking of the old story ofOllie O’Donnell. Ollie was a lonelybachelor in his forties, kind of askinny marink who kept to himself.He wasn’t very remarkable in anyconventional sense, certainly nothandsome. He looked like a longhandled frying pan.But what put the sizzle in Olliewas his devotion to the dead. He’dbeen writing obituaries for yearsfor the Southtown and ambitiouscorpses could only hope their livesmerited an Ollie O’Donnell obit.One day Ollie got a call fromShep Lavery, whose daughter Alicehad died, leaving behind a distraughthusband and three little kids. Shepwas understandably upset. Alice wasonly in her late thirties and she hadgiven her dad grandchildren and agreat son-in-law, Murph Murphy.Shep was determined that his daughterAlice was going to get an OllieO’Donnell obit.Ollie had heard it all before, whata wonderful person Alice had beenand how she was a great mother anda what a wonderful swimmer she wasin high school. But something happenedto Ollie when Shep sent overa picture of Alice. Her Irish beautycaptivated the ol’ frying pan as helooked over her notes. He calledShep back and said, “Tell me moreabout Alice.”Shep talked for hours about hisdaughter. He had Ollie laughingalong with him when he told of hermischievous side as a kid. When Sheprecounted what a wonderful motherAlice had been, tears streamed downthe fryin’ pan’s face.That night Ollie dreamed of thelovely Alice. In the dream he wasyoung and they met before her marriage.She laughed at his jokes ashe glided her across a dance floorin Paris. She rested her head on thefrying pan’s shoulder and sighed,“Oh Ollie, I wish it could always belike this.”Ollie awoke kissing his pillow. Heleapt from the bed and began writingthe greatest obit of his career for AliceLavery, the woman he loved.What appeared in the paper thenext day was more mash note thanmemorial.That night Ollie sat in his kitchenstaring at her photo and wonderedwhat might have been. He had neverlaid eyes on her but her eyes spoketo him.Ollie opened up a bottle of Bushmillshe kept above the fridge foremergencies. One ice cube and fourfingers would chase these blues away.He put on a Frank Patterson record,sat back and poured his heart out toher picture.A half hour later the picture wastalking back to Ollie. Alice said,“You’ll never know unless you seeme in person, Ollie”. The fryin’pan jumped into his black suit andheaded off for the funeral home.The line went out the door atSheehy’s but Ollie never consideredbagging the wake. He stood patientlyon the eario listening to more storiesof the late lamented Alice Lavery.When Ollie finally knelt at hercasket he could feel the eyes ofMurph Murphy burning into hisback with jealousy. The fryin’ pansuddenly realized that this romancewasn’t going to work. Who was hekidding? She was married, withchildren, and on top of everythingelse she was dead.Biting his lip, Ollie stood andbroke for the door in embarrassment.As he slipped his coat on, an attractiveyoung woman touched his armand asked if he was indeed “the manfrom the newspaper?”Ollie gazed into her eyes. She wasa dead ringer for Alice, only youngerand with larger breasts.“Oh thank you so much for thewonderful article on my sister, I’mEvelyn Lavery.”This is where the camera pullsback, the music swells, and we rollthe credits. The moratorium startsnow.Irish Home PicturesGet personal pictures of yourold Irish home, photographedby our professional team of photographers.www.irishhomepictures.com