Bernie Mulligan and Dennis Kennedy started Sister City relationship with Headford, Ireland
Published in the April 13-26, 2016 issue of Morgan Hill Life
By Bernie Mulligan
Photo courtesy Bernie Mulligan
Bernie Mulligan, left, helped Dennis Kennedy with his campaign for a seat on the Santa Clara Valley Water District board of directors.
When Dennis Kennedy and I met back in the ’70s, there was an immediate friendship bond. It grew especially strong when we talked about the land of Eire that we loved. We made several trips to Ireland during the ensuing years, each time coming home with a renewed sense of love for our heritage.
On one of those trips I introduced him to some longtime friends in the County Galway area. The Monaghans instantly befriended Dennis and he became part of our extended family.
The following year we decided to ask the Monaghans to check with their local politicos if they might like to become a Sister City with Morgan Hill. It was a unanimous “yes.” And so the Morgan Hill-Headford Sister City relationship was born 10 years ago.
This special Morgan Hill-Headford relationship will sorely miss Dennis. The friendship will be carried forward for generations in every pub in that County Galway as a pint of Guinness is hoisted in Dennis’s memory and that day a decade ago this St. Patrick’s Day when the official documents for our Sister City were signed.
As we all know, the Irish humor is known throughout the world — and Dennis was no exception. He had the uncanny ability of coming back with a one liner as fast as one would come at him. He would always be “working the tables.” It’s an old East Coast expression, meaning the introduction of one or more tables until he got to know everyone. No sooner than later I’d be talking to someone I’d never met as though the person knew me as a child. It gets this byline …….”Hi Bernie, this fellow Dennis Kennedy says you’re from Jersey…..” And away we’d go with our new friendship.
He and I had a great love of the Irish music and we’d stay up until one or two in the morning listening to the groups play. It was all pro bono as the Irish just love to gather in the pubs, and pretty soon the fiddles, guitars, banjos and mandolins come alive and the entire place becomes a party. You see, the west of Ireland gets a lot of rain. And to quell the depressing weather the Irish turn to the pubs. It’s much easier than anti-depressant medication.
We’ll raise a glass and say, “Sláinte,” which is a Gaelic toast that means “for good life, happiness, and good luck.” (When you put your empty glass forward, softly say “Sláinte” to the barman. He’ll know exactly what you want.)
You might say in a sense that Dennis and I were a pair to draw together. In a sense I have lost a friend. But in my heart of hearts he will always be close at hand. Always will I quaff a pint and look to the heavens, knowing that I will say silently: “Sláinte, my good friend. I know you are nearby.”
