For centuries, Ireland has been known as the "land of saints and scholars". The emerald isle has given us some of the world's greatest poets, writers, actors, musicians, philosophers, statesmen and heroes. Some sadly, are known only to a small handful of faithful admirers; others have found their names blazoned across the headlines of the world's media.
The land itself echoes a mysterious, sometimes frightening, but always inviting call to visitors . The magnificence of the Mountains of Mourne, "sweeping down to the sea" in the North send forth a clarion call to Ulstermen and women everywhere; the lakes of Killarney beckon again to anyone who has stood on their hillsides and looked down into the clear pools below; the mighty rivers --- the Lagan in the North, the Shannon and the Liffey in the South will forever live in the memory of those who have walked their banks or boated along their meandering lengths.
The castles which still stand erect and somewhat defiant in a modern age, recall the history of the clans and "if walls could talk" what stories these would tell of battles won and lost and the people whose lives were so intrinsically woven around them.
Irish folklore is permeated with tales of "the little people" --- dancing in the moonlight while always protecting the "crock o' gold"; fairies which provide good favor to those who do right and the ever present "banshee" wailing piteously as the dark specter of death comes calling on some unsuspecting household.
Philosophically, some believe that Ireland has changed too much too soon. Many of the old standards and concepts have been cast aside for a more modern and "enlightened" philosophy; in many ways “the baby has been thrown out with the bath water”.
Whatever the outcomes of all the political and religious debates and treaties, the Irish will always be uniquely “Irish” . Centuries of traditions, many of which have been handed down from family generation to generation, still form the basis of the Irish Family. The magnetic call of Ireland and its people is demonstrated in the sentiment of an old song whose chorus echoes in the hearts and souls of those who have left "the aul sod":
"And tones that are tender and tones that are gruff,
Still whisper from over the sea,
Come back, Paddy Reilly to BallyJamesduff,
Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me."
Those who have left her shores for “greener pastures” may be happy with their lot in life, but the mystical tug of Ireland itself will never leave her exiled sons and daughters and those who have been grafted into her family by even the shortest of visits.