My father was Irish from whence came my family name “Brennan.” But, I identify more with my mother’s ancestors, Englestaders. What’s in a name? You may ask…

Well, growing up Irish in the south shore of Boston was easy. Things made sense back then. People worked, had families, BBQs on weekends. There was no revolution that I was aware of. One can’t be disgruntled while eating the fat of the land.

Then, I moved to western Massachusetts, where the land was a little leaner. Jobs- fewer, folks minimal. There seems a revolution was ongoing in these parts- from the amount of disgruntled folks there. In which case a fat Irishman is no longer useful.

If you want a land where every inch of your potential may be extracted from your being by necessity, western Ma is a great place for that. If you are useless you don’t eat. You are cold. You are outcast. Having an inner German is helpful when you are teetering on the edge of being cold, lonely, and hungry.

We don’t speak German much in my family. But, we have our language. Similar to Lyle’s “Roooaaarrrr!” Our language is “RRRRRRRRRRRR.” Its an inner energy, frustration, or power that emerges (I would say) from my viking ancestors’ will to live- to survive in the face of impossible circumstances.

Imagine Viking existence- a colder climate, more dangerous, and no Walmart for creature comforts like fuzzy robes and slippers. No aspirin, no TP??

The only creature comforts my ancestors possessed were fir suits they carved off a dangerous predator after wresting and pounding it to death. So it wouldn’t eat their children. Killing a beast provided a three-fold advantage: You get to live! You get to eat! And you get warm fur suit. Rrrrrrrrrrrr

RRRRRRRRRRR is primal. It’s an expression that says: “I am a human being for God’s sake- struggling like an animal to survive- but for some reason its necessary and I am frustrated because I don’t know why.”

These are hard lessons. Useful lessons. My southern neighbors also possess a kind of inner Rrrrrrrrr. They’re much more lively though. They seem to relish the fight. They don’t perform human sacrifices to the fertility god, either. Perhaps that is one benefit of southern neighbors’ Methodism or Episcopalianism OR, some -ism that proposed maybe killing people is barbaric.

There is nothing like a New England winter here or the Viking wilderness experience. (At least not yet). There’s the raw experience of being. But, there is a pleasure of being, too. And it’s warm. I like it!