I felt a bit sad reading your essay because it is very relatable. You describe a life many of us and many of our friends navigate in our own ways, although your circumstances are unique and anything but typical.
I’m reminded of a few of my friends who didn’t heed warning signs and who paid hard prices.
Your essay also captures a certain era in NW DC that was pretty special. The Four Provinces has been a part of the Connecticut Avenue vibe and culture since at least the late 1960’s. I had an English teacher in high school who was Irish. He’d sometimes roll into class still drunk from whiskey, Guinness and Irish music absorbed at the provinces, and read theatrically to us some of his favorite works by the great Irish writers; and he advise us to go to the provinces and live life, because only then would we understand what those Irish writers were trying to tell us.
Seemed like good advice, so my best friends and I took several Friday night excursions there, lugging our fake IDs; and, boy, the tales we brought back to school on those Mondays!
It takes courage to share like you did in this essay. We are all better for sharing our own stories and we definitely are better when we get to read what others, like you, share. So, thank you for summoning that courage and sharing.
I do much appreciate your comment, Michael. I frequented the 4 P's for years and have many happy memories of the lively crowd and the Irish bands performing late into the night. Maybe we raised a glass together at some point. -Kirk
I felt a bit sad reading your essay because it is very relatable. You describe a life many of us and many of our friends navigate in our own ways, although your circumstances are unique and anything but typical.
I’m reminded of a few of my friends who didn’t heed warning signs and who paid hard prices.
Your essay also captures a certain era in NW DC that was pretty special. The Four Provinces has been a part of the Connecticut Avenue vibe and culture since at least the late 1960’s. I had an English teacher in high school who was Irish. He’d sometimes roll into class still drunk from whiskey, Guinness and Irish music absorbed at the provinces, and read theatrically to us some of his favorite works by the great Irish writers; and he advise us to go to the provinces and live life, because only then would we understand what those Irish writers were trying to tell us.
Seemed like good advice, so my best friends and I took several Friday night excursions there, lugging our fake IDs; and, boy, the tales we brought back to school on those Mondays!
It takes courage to share like you did in this essay. We are all better for sharing our own stories and we definitely are better when we get to read what others, like you, share. So, thank you for summoning that courage and sharing.
I do much appreciate your comment, Michael. I frequented the 4 P's for years and have many happy memories of the lively crowd and the Irish bands performing late into the night. Maybe we raised a glass together at some point. -Kirk