Sloane's Pictoral Week In Review
I'll say this about Queen's: they love us alumni. And I'll say this about Clark Hall Pub: they haven't changed, still the centre of the universe. No one batted an eye as Jana, Alexis and I waltzed through the Alumni lineup for Ritual on Friday, toting one baby named Sloaner. And when we entered the pub, a buncha random arms rose out the crowd, bearing cameras and phones to capture the image of a 96' alumna and her class of '25 girl enjoying Ritual with all its rights and privileges.
In the lineup for upstairs-at-Clark.
We snuck in our own hooch for Sloane.
Shown here with Mike Corcoran and her Mama, Sloane is a bit pooped & sweaty after moshing to "Hobo Humpin' Slobo Babe".
It was Alexis' first Ritual, but Jana's an old hand, having cut her teeth back in '94. A fine time was had by all.
Categories: Olden Days | Queen's | Sloane
The Oilthigh
So Sloane didn't get into the playschool. We're looking into "other options" right now. I spent two days so upset and mad that I was no kind of good company up in Howdenvale. I finally shook it off and sucked it up. Self pity and despair are so unbecoming, no?
We said goodbye to Thab and Phet and Ji and Seung Yi a few days ago. Zoomed south to Toronto, did a whirlwind turnaround at the Connacher Coach House - threw in the ol' Dance Along Sesame Street dvd to keep Sloane amused and set about folding the laundry I'd put in before heading north last week, wiping up the grimy Sloane hand marks on all the surfaces, and packing the stuff I'd left behind. Glancing feverishly at the clock, needing to depart in time to miss rushhour. Then finally, ZOOM, through the early afternoon streets of Toronto and up the DVP in blessedly minimal traffic. ZOOM! down the 401 at 130km/h (attention grandparents: I never drive like this. But Sloane has only a limited tolerance for the car and we'd been on the road for three hours already) and made it to Kingston in record time. ZOOM! up the Westport road to Jana & Jay's house on Buck Lake. Sloane only screamed for the last 30km or so. The only thing that would shut her up was repeated renditions of the Oilthigh.
What is the Oilthigh? It's the school song of Queen's University. It's in Gaelic. I have no idea what the lyrics mean and I'm among 95% of Queen's graduates in this regard. But it's to the tune of Battle Hymn of the Republic. Quite rousing. Etcetera. It's used at sports games and during orientation week, part of the whole 1984-esque indoctrination process. The Peter Lougheed, the new rector of Queen's at the time of my graduation, even started one at the convocation ceremony. You do a kind of modified can-can while singing the Oilthigh, holding on to your fellow revellers.
Oil thigh na Banrighinn a'Banrighinn gu brath!
Oil thigh na Banrighinn a'Banrighinn gu brath!
Oil thigh na Banrighinn a'Banrighinn gu brath!
Queen's College colours we are wearing once again,
Soiled as they are by the battle and the rain,
Yet another victory to wipe away the stain!
So, Gaels, go in and win!
[The next part is yelled]
What´s the sport of Kings?
Queen´s! Queen´s! Queen´s!
Oil thigh na Banrighinn Cha Gheil, Cha Gheil, Cha Gheil!
Oil thigh na Banrighinn Cha Gheil, Cha Gheil, Cha Gheil!
Yay Queen´s!
(A quick bit of internet research indicates that there are three more verses, none of which I've ever heard in real life; you can peruse them here.) And by the way, most of the lyrics above are pronounced roughly how they look, but the last bit, "Cha Gheil", comes out as "Kay - ah!". Gaelic is weird that way, ask anyone.
I thought it would be cute to get Sloane familiar with this song in the week leading up to Homecoming in Kingston, so when she heard it at the football game on Saturday she'd laugh and clap. So I sang it here and there in the car along with the other standards (You Are My Sunshine, My Sloaner Lies Over The Ocean, Colder Than You, and Blackbird among them).
What you'll know if you're a Queen's graduate is that the Oilthigh is fun, but once or twice is enough. It's repetitive. And can get pretty grating pretty fast. As the former Queen Bee of Orientation at Queen's, I can tell you that I've done approximately 6 squillion Oilthighs in my day, and I unpack them only under specific circumstances. Like at Homecoming. I've heard that many Queen's grads end up with Oilthighs at their weddings due to the critical mass of alumni on the guest list. Our wedding was not one of those weddings. Turner's not a joiner and like I say, I've done enough Oilthighs in my time.
So it was with no small measure of "oh no..." when it started to become clear that Sloane would only be satisfied with repeated Oilthighs in the car. That last 30 km to Jana's was hell. Every time I stopped singing (and often even between verses), Sloane would start to whine, and yell, and sign "Again", and scream, "MORE!" I'll tell you that my daughter is not only now familiar with the Oilthigh, it may live on in her noggin for the rest of her life. To keep myself sane I sang it in every conceivable voice, octave, and tone. Even the "underwater" version where you bibble your lips with a finger so as to sound like a mermaid or something. If only the shits from SOARB circa 1994 could have seen me. I think they'd have thought I was getting my comeuppance.
Categories: Olden Days | Ontario | Queen's | Sloane