I have loved this band since I first heard them:
The story I have been told my whole life is my father who did not meet his father until he was in his 20’s was originally Murphey. Now Murphey is a more unique name to the emerald isle. Because of whatever tragedies befell my father(he never talked about it but Mom would share secrets in the darken room of my youth) he chose as an adult to drop the e. I suppose his life was so hard and his sense of clan so strong he wanted the name but not the baggage.
This is fascinating to me. Coming from a “clan” as in Irish/Dutch (mom) not the ugly KKK one. Although I have had my share of run ins with those fellows as well. I have no verifiable history. No records were kept in those little or large wooden houses with might impenetrable doors. When you are raised with legends and tall tales as your legacy, reality is a hard pill to swallow.
I would love to know about the old man two generations back who’s dying words were “geat me a drnk sun. Old man is the only name he ever had to us. But I have to accept my history much like my fathers needs to start with my generation. The more I dig the smaller they become. The decision I have to make is do I really want to know? Will I find peace if I never know? It worked somewhat for three generations. Although now that I think of it they do have release papers that beg to differ.