Our Emerald Isle - The Telegram

 The Telegram

As of last Monday there were only two weeks of school left.  Bev and I had to make a decision.  I had been offered contracts for the upcoming school year from the District and University for more money than I had ever made before in my life and given the fact that my expenses are very minimal the amount of discretionary income available stagers a boy from Fairmount.  We have been able to save a little money this year but not a tremendous sum because of the initial cost of relocating, but we aren’t in the hole either.  If we come back next year we would be set for life, well not to the degree some would like but sufficient for us along with social security and my army pension.  However money has never been a motivating influence for Bev or me.  But then again given the fact I had nothing better to do, at least at the time I was reading my contract, I had no real reason not to return.  We could visit the kids this summer, spend a month or so at our place in Tucson, and return to the wilds and mysteries of Alaska in early September.  I was just about ready to sign the contract when I received the telegram.

Big Bear showed up around noon the other day decked in his Western Union outfit.  The telegram was from my brother Brian and sister Traci.

“Dear Sir Snapper,” the telegram began, “Stop Sorry we have not kept in touch more frequently Stop We have exciting news and opportunity but need your help Stop Don’t make any plans for this summer or next year before you talk to me Stop Will call you this evening with details Stop Love Brian and Traci Stop”

Well Brian was always coming up with some sort of scheme and my first reaction was to send back a telegram reminding him of the last time he sent such a message.  That message ended up costing me a few dollars and a lot of grief.

 He at one time wanted to open up a Greek Bar and Grill near his home in Chicago.  He was very well connected with the Greek community via his marriage to a nice Greek lady and just knew such a business would be a real money maker.  He had it all planned out.  Greek food, Greek music, Greek dancers, Greek décor, and waiters and waitresses that spoke nothing but Greek.  He said that the place would even be blessed by the local Greek Orthodox Priest.  He just needed a little more start up money.  Our father had died not to long before and left us a little life insurance.  He knew I still had money available.  I really didn’t need the money so I figured why not.

 He did open the place but then a few things happened that sort of put a crinkle in things.  He failed to tell me that he was running a high stakes poker game in the back room that the IRS didn’t appreciate, the INS didn’t condone the manner in which he conscripted the cooks, waiters and waitresses, and Ouzo became his drink of choice.  What little profits there were sort of vanished between the poker games, the anise flavored beverage, a divorce, and attorneys.

 Bev tried to take care of the situation by placing a few strategic cryptic phone calls to her friends that she thought still remained in Chicago only to find out that most of them were no longer available having either having died, left town suddenly, moved to Joliet as guest of the government or, through her contact with the Federal District Attorney’s Office, had moved on to places known only to the folks who ran the witness protection program. 

Well needless to say the Greek Bar and Grill went belly up.  The only good thing that happened was that Brian and I had no legal repercussions after all was said and done, and to his credit after liquidation of all assets my investment was salvaged and returned.

 I looked upon his telegram with some skepticism to say the least.  The only reason I did not immediately send off the contracts for the next school year was the fact that Traci seemed to be involved and she always had a level head and would not be part or parcel to any of Brian’s shenanigans.  Besides he is my brother, I would hear him out. 

Sure enough that evening I received a conference call from Brian and Traci.  I won’t try to transcribe the exact conversation but the jest of the call was this:  Brian and Trace were living in Ireland in the County of O’Malley in a little village called Devere just a days train ride from Shannon.  Apparently we three had inherited a Pub, the only Pub in Devere.  He and Traci had flown to Ireland to check the inheritance out after Traci had insured that the inheritance was real.  The Irish solicitor could not find me and neither Brian or Traci wished to contact me until they had checked things out given my last foray into that Greek Bar and Grill business.  Sure enough the inheritance was real, the place was quaint, it only needed a little work to get it up to snuff and the best part was that no money was needed on my part. 

They knew that I would be off during the summer, they could use the help, and that Bev had experience running such establishments.  They wanted us to come over and help really get the place off the ground.  Their first two months of operation had been successful and would be even better with our input but they realized that a third and fourth person was desperately needed to lesson the work load and save their sanity.  Would we please come over as equal partners.  To top things off he would buy the airline tickets out of his share of the profits already made..

  It did not take me very long to decide what to do and as I was about to discuss the matter with Bev I discovered she was already packing.

I only had two question for Brian and Traci:  What was the Sir Snapper business and who the hell would leave us an Irish Pub?  I was soon to find out.

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