The Parting Glass
My sister and I went out to Los Angeles last week to attend the memorial service for our Uncle Joe, who died on New Year’s Day.
Of course, with so many things going on, changing the voice mail greeting is hardly a priority.
But hearing Joe’s voice again just reminded me how much I missed him and how much I enjoyed our Sunday afternoon phone conversations.
And if felt so strange being in Los Angeles without seeing Joe. If I'm in L.A., I'm going to see Joe.
The two are inseparable in my mind, which is not surprising given that whenever I went out there, I stayed with Joe and Sara. This time, though, we were sharing an Airbnb with our cousin Keir and his family.
Keir was part of the memorial service, which was held at Griffith Park, where Joe and Sara had taken us so many times.
We took some nice long walks there over the years and one time during Christmas, Joe drove us through the park to show us the holiday light display.
My cousin was going to read the lyrics to “The Parting Glass”, a Scottish traditional song, often sung at the end of a gathering of friends.
It believed to be the most popular parting song in Scotland before Robert Burns came along and wrote "Auld Lang Syne".
The "parting glass", or "stirrup cup", was the final hospitality offered to a departing guest. Once they had mounted, they were presented one final drink to fortify them for their travels.
The earliest evidence for the existence of the text is from the Skene Manuscript, a collection of Scottish airs written in tablature for the lute and mandora at various dates between 1615 and 1635, when it was known as “Good Night, and God Be With Yow.”
I Should Rise
The song has also been sung in Ireland and it was re-introduced to mid-20th century audiences by The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem, which is how I know it because my late father—and Joe’s brother—used to play the Clancy Brothers’ records—rather loudly—in our living room.
The High Kings, an Irish folk group formed in Dublin in 2007 that includes a member of the Clancy family, have a wonderful recording of the song.
Joe’s service was a standing room only affair. He and his wife had been teachers and so many of the mourners were former students who all were so grateful to my uncle for his guidance and support.
After retirement, Joe and Sara were docents for the L.A. Public Library where they gave tours of the main branch.
My cousin didn’t sing, but he did a great job reciting the lyrics and I was particularly moved by the line “of all the comrades that e'er I had, they're sorry for my going away.”
Indeed we are. And the song continues…
But since it fell into my lot
That I should rise, and you should not
I'll gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all
So, fill to me the parting glass
And drink a health whate'er befalls
Then gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all
Later, we all joined our West Coast family for dinner at my cousin Paul’s house, where my sister came up the excellent idea of holding a family reunion next year—as opposed to just seeing each other at funerals.
With Joe’s passing, our generation is the next one on the diving board, so to speak, so I’m all in favor of meeting up with these wonderful people on happy occasions.
And every time I hear “The Parting Glass” I’ll think of Uncle Joe.
Good night and joy be to you all.
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