This Irish “Green” Breen decided I had to visit the Green Isle to see the town where my Irish great grandfather was born.

One evening we visited a village near Castlegregory where local people gather each Monday night for song and storytelling.

We drive down an extremely narrow dirt road toward the end of a long peninsula jutting out into the wild Atlantic. The darkness feels close and oppressive until my daughter exclaims, “I see a lighted bridge going from one side of the water all the way to the other side of the water.” Everyone sees it, but then we realize it is not a lighted bridge, but something like a rainbow from the full moon. I later discover that it is a moonbow or lunar rainbow that is produced by light reflected off the surface of the moon.

After recovering from the excitement of the moonbow, we finally reach our destination – a small house next to a pub with little to no parking. And now, more excitement, although of a different sort. We fear that Keith has been driving our long, black, almost-limousine car with the emergency brake on. Sure enough, we all smell it – the smell (we are sure) of burning brakes! OMG. Here we are down this long, dark peninsula, knowing no one, and the brakes are burned up. I tried calling Hertz, but the cell phone reception was almost nonexistent. Mr. “Hertz” and I keep trying to reach each other for a few minutes, and I think I heard him say something like “you probably ruined the tires.” Now I think, “Not only are the brakes burned up, but all the tires are ruined as well.” I worry that we have made the bad Irish fairies very angry.

I, however, have a ready answer: “I’m going inside to sing.” That’s exactly what my daughter, granddaughter and I do while Keith sits in the long, black, almost-limousine car with the burned up brakes and the ruined tires waiting for a nonexistent call from Mr. “Hertz.” This is not my finest moment!

After a few minutes someone comes into the music room and says, “I’m looking for Sally Breen,” and she hands me a strange cell phone. Very puzzling. She explains that the Mr. “Hertz” called her at the pub next door and asked to speak to me. Oh, I understand (?). But I cannot understand what Mr. “Hertz” is saying. I believe he is speaking Gaelic! I hand the phone back to her, and she turns and is promptly out the door. I continue to sing and tell stories. I am having a great time. However, I do smell a peculiar smell. It is not the smell of burning brakes. Someone in town is burning trash!

When I get back to the car, there is Keith – all smiles. What? He tells this story.

Mr. “Hertz” had called a mechanic he knew in this tiny village and asked him to come have a look at the car. While I was singing and telling stories, this mechanic rescue person had come out into the dark of night and found the long, black, almost-limousine car and found absolutely nothing wrong with it! Not only that, he refused to take any money from Keith. This Green Breen is proud to be Irish!

Sally Breen lives in Windham.