Luck o' the Shamrock

“Would you like to talk to me for a St. Patrick’s Day story?”

That was the gist of the phone call I received from Priscilla McPherson in my early days of newspaper reporting when I worked for the now-defunct weekly Wilkinsburg Gazette. The paper also served , where Mrs. McPherson lived.

“I’m a fan of the wee folk,” she explained as we made arrangements for an interview.

Intrigued, and in dire need of a St. Patrick’s Day story, I took her up on the offer. She lived on a side street off West Hutchinson Avenue, though I’m not sure which one now. Aside from some leprechaun decorations, her home was typical of an elderly couple in the late 1970s and she quickly made me feel welcome.

An engaging storyteller, she wove the tales of how leprechauns had visited her and how she believed in their magic. I wish I still had a copy of that story today but it was lost many moves ago. I wanted to believe her—truly.

Then she went to the kitchen to get me a cup of tea. Her husband, a tall guy if memory serves me right, came into the living room at that moment and introduced himself.  “She’s nuts,” he said, then promptly exited.

Mrs. McPherson returned with a perfect spot of tea and we picked up the conversation. Not only did she believe in leprechauns and their mystical powers, but also in the existence of the Menehune, the wee people of Hawaiian mythology.

She told me about the mischief the leprechauns caused her.  I asked her if she ever found their pot of gold, but if she had, she didn’t admit to it. And I’m guessing, if she did, she never shared it with Mr. McPherson.

I had enough for my story and began making my way to the door, but Mrs. McPherson wasn’t letting me go just yet.

“I have something I want you to take with you,” she said, handing me a shamrock plant in a brown plastic pot. “It’s planted in Irish soil. It will bring you luck.”

I’ve had many houseplants over the years. Most eventually die, due to my lack of watering or too much/little sunlight. But the shamrock has lived on in that same Irish soil for 34 years, in the same container, no houseplant fertilizer, through many moves and periods of neglect.

In my years as a journalist, I’ve had more-than-incredible luck in having stories find me at a time I need them or at a time when they are particularly relevant. I’ll come across a name by chance, find a website that has information no one else has learned of yet or have someone mention exactly what I was looking for—just as Mrs. McPherson found me on that desperate March day when I needed a St. Patrick’s Day story.

And, when that bit o’ luck comes my way, I think back to Mrs. McPherson and my still-thriving shamrock.

I can’t help but wonder if a little leprechaun magic … the shamrock … nah … that’d be blarney!

Editor's note: Zandy Dudiak is the Associate Regional Editor for the Western Pennsylvania Region 2 Patch sites.

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