Brendan, meet Brendan

We piled into the van and began the road trip to Laurel's second home in Berkeley, California, in the San Francisco Bay Area.

I made conversation with young Brendan Gair, showed him my Garda badge, explaining to him that I was an Irish policeman, come all the way from Dublin. I also introduced him to Aisling, though I told Aisling in Gaelic she needed to behave herself in front of the boy and that we'd have a proper talk later. Aisling was a good girl this time and was very nice to young Brendan, whose eyes lit up when he saw her.

I let the boy simply talk, talk about all he'd been through in recent years. Outwardly, I maintained the taut, strictly-business demeanor of a police inspector, nodding and making agreeable noises as if I were interviewing a witness to a crime. Inwardly, I found young Brendan's story heartbreaking. His mother had said such horrible things to him, and his stepfathers had been such abusive arse-holes. I'd investigated cases like this in North Dublin in the late 1990s, and recognized the type. This boy was the divine son of Manannán mac Lir, but from where I sat, a fat lot of good it'd done him up to now.

But perhaps it was part of Manannán mac Lir's plan that I should meet young Brendan. I also felt sure that Ogma would want me to stand up for this young man, down on his luck. He said he never wanted to see his stepfather Brian again...the brute who had extinguished a cigarette on the boy's arm, more than once. I reassured young Brendan he never had to live with or see Brian ever again, that was a solemn promise from me to him. He smiled such a happy smile when I said that.

Since Ireland's immigration policy is not unlike Israel's, and since it shouldn't be too difficult to prove young Brendan's Irish heritage, it'll be no problem obtaining an Irish passport for him and dual citizenship with the Republic of Ireland. Once Brendan has dual citizenship and an Irish passport, I'll be in a much better position to assume (temporary?) legal guardianship over him. I checked on my smart-phone and found the address of the Consulate General of Ireland in downtown San Francisco. For the time being, I plan on keeping Brendan close by my side. More long term, just have to see what he wants and is willing to do.

My mother's still alive and living on her librarian's pension in Dublin. Although it would be quite a culture shock, I could leave Brendan in her care in Dublin and see to it he gets a proper education in one of the state schools in the Dublin Metro area. I've also got plenty of friends still on the force in Garda who will keep an eye out for young Brendan in my absence. So far, California hasn't been much of a dream to this lad, more like a nightmare. A change of scenery, a connection with the Auld Sod...it might let him commune more closely with Manannán mac Lir, closer to the Irish Sea.

He would, I know, stick out like a sore thumb, with his Yank accent and American sense of fashion. But Dublin's a pretty diverse and modern city. I'd feel much worse for him if my mother lived in Cork, say, or smaller towns further inland, or if she decided to leave the Republic and move to Belfast where her late husband came from, the long dead IRA man I grew up believing was my father. My mother had met her late husband in Swinging London of the middle and late 1960s...two Irish hooking up amidst all the free love and experimental drugs of the time. It was a good time for the Gods as well, and Ogma was definitely a fan of the hippies, both here in California and in Swinging London and back in the Auld Sod as well...which was how he ended up with my dear old mum and how I came to be.

I would definitely encourage Brendan to hang on to his US Passport and citizenship, however, and to definitely *not* follow in my footsteps into the Irish Defence Forces. If he shows any inclination towards military service--or especially Navy service, considering his divine parent, then I'd definitely encourage his joining the United States Navy rather than the Irish naval forces or even the Royal Navy. If he serves in the Irish Defence Forces, he could put his American citizenship at risk, whilst serving in the American Armed Forces would *not* jeopardize his dual citizenship status with Ireland.

I also have to ensure that my mentoring young Brendan does not cause eventual strife between Manannán mac Lir and Ogma. The gods' ways are inscrutable at times, but caring after young Brendan, who otherwise has no one in this world, seems the only humane and decent thing I can do under the circumstances. He's seen enough hardship in his short life, by heaven. It's time he were able to take a step back and be allowed an easier, more rewarding path to walk on for a spell. I intend to look after him like an older brother. Aisling, too. I'm almost old enough to be his father...if, say, I'd had the misfortune of getting my high school girlfriend pregnant the way some of my eejit classmates did. I was, I fully admit, very bad Catholic at 17 and 18...and while I find Belfast to be a thoroughly unpleasant place, but it was good for one thing...Condoms. I'd slip over the line to NI and buy up a healthy stash and sneak it back over. Repeatedly. I got very good at smuggling contraception of all kind back into the Republic, using the best for myself and selling off the remainder to the highest bidder. I also never arrested any teenagers I caught doing this while I was a patrolman in Garda. I developed a reputation as a cop who didn't give a fiddler's fart about that kind of stuff, which gave me some leverage when it came to pumping information on crimes of a more serious nature, like burglary, rape or murder.

I feel the need to stand by younger Brendan until the lad is able to mature and stand on his own two feet. If he wants a university education, I want to help him do that. If he doesn't, the American Navy is a fine choice as well. I know I can count on my mother's support in this. I plan to remain with Interpol for now, despite the necessity of spending so much time away in Lyon, France. It gives me the clout I need in the human realm to get Ogma's work done and advance his interests vis a vis the other gods. I need to communicate with both Ogma and Manannán mac Lir on this, but I can't see them objecting to strenuously, at least not to begin with. If Manannán mac Lir would like to step up and send another of his Scions to be young Brendan's mentor, let him do so. If not, I plan to until Brendan is actually able to take care of himself.

I do regret the culture shock that life in Dublin will mean, but I daresay it'll be an improvement over the hell this lad has been through far to much out here in sunny California. I admire Nate's zeal to see Brian prosecuted, but the system out here has clearly failed young Brendan. Perhaps he should have a chance to connect directly with his Irish roots back in the old country. It might renew his sense of purpose, give him ambition again. Could do the same for me as well, of course.

In the meantime, we've got some time to kill in the San Francisco Bay Area. The bureaucracy of the Irish consulate will take some time, but we do need to find some kid-friendly activities in this area to keep them occupied while Jack is away returning the little he-man twins to their mum in Spokane, Washington.

After that, we've all got to trek down to New Orleans, hopefully in time for Mardis Gras. I was initially hopeful if heading to Chicago with Gunnar in time for Saint Patrick's Day, to see them turn the river green...but that may have wait until next year. Gunnar seems to have snapped out of the funk he was in, and he and Laurel seem to be back to being lovey-dovey..."If you're going, to San-Fran-Cisco...Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair..." (yes, my hippie mum sung that song all the time from her Swinging London days, even though she never set foot anywhere in America outside of the city limits of Boston).

The sunrise this morning over the Bay, with the Golden Gate bridge, was, I admit, truly breath-taking. Laurel really has a nice pad here, and Gunnar is one lucky bastard.