I don’t go out much, but on Wednesday night, I had a chance to attend a wonderful performance of “Celtic Woman—Isle of Hope.”
I have always loved Celtic music (pronounced ‘Kell-tick’ as opposed to the basketball team from Boston pronounced ‘Sell-tick). If you’re not familiar, Celtic music utilizes strings, flutes, and percussion and has origins in the British Isles areas of Ireland, Scotland, Wales, etc. It's the European ancestor of its American descendent, bluegrass music.
I think I love Celtic music so much because it makes me want to dance. And I am not a dancer (picture Sarah Palin’s pig wearing lipstick in a tutu). Irish songs don’t always have the most uplifting lyrics—“Oh Danny boy, I love you so . . . and all the flowers are dying. If I am dead, as dead I well may be . . . “ But the music is so stirring, it even makes dead flowers sound like something to rejoice about.
It’s very possible that my love of Celtic music may be genetic. Yes, I know I’m one hundred percent Norwegian in ancestry, but have you ever looked at a map? A few miles of North Sea is all that separates Ireland and Norway (okay, maybe several hundred miles). But those Vikings were courageous sailors, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them made a little raiding tour of Ireland in a pre-eharmony.com search for a wife. I am convinced I have a little Celtic blood in me somewhere.
So check out the Celtic woman cast singing “The Spanish Lady” or the Celtic violinist, Mairead Nesbitt, the Butterfly, as she flits around the stage during “Granuaile’s Dance.” It will make you want to buy a fiddle and a white dress and spend your days skipping around playing Celtic music.