"So tell Little Brother what's so important."She smiled at my attempt to relax her, and then she forged ahead. "What do you want to do with your life,...Kenneth? What would you like to have happen?"Jesus, talk about deep. This was right up there with her pregnancy question."I don't really know yet," I answered truthfully. Then I turned the question back on her, knowing that this was what she wanted to talk about. "What about you? What are you looking for, Amanda?"She responded right away to my. There was a man singing on the small stage, his voice wizened beyond his years by whiskey and cigarettes. He was singing the cheesier of the Irish ballads, Americans would rather hear of Molly Malone and her cockles and mussels than Pádraic Pearse and his butchered schoolboys. They would rather think of Ireland as a place of happy leprechauns, drunken and merry, rather than the true tragedy of Bridget’s homeland. Bridget sighed, despairing for her adopted countrymen. Before her was a half-full. More

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