The Fitzpatrick family of Greenwich Village (formerly of Queens) are just a step down from being New York Royalty. They are Irish-American to their core, hardworking, cynically, and often brutally honest. They are children of the Industrial age—their forefathers moved over during the great Irish immigration and their great-grandfather founded the family business—Fitzpatrick’s Deli in Queens, which is now a merchandised staple of the New York landscape (and run by their slightly eccentric Uncle Eddie and Aunt Lois). They are the American dream—their father, Brian Finn Fitzpatrick, Sr., was the first in the family to go to college. He went to NYU on scholarship and studied economics, using his hard-working family values to land himself a position as a runner on Wall Street and finally found himself a full-fledged, stock broker. It was there that he met Elizabeth O’Donnell, a second generation Irish immigrant with bright blue eyes and dark hair. She was the most beautiful thing Brian had ever seen, and he fell in love.
The two were married, and as often happens, they found themselves with Brian Jr., before they really meant to have kids. Brian was 29, and still working to establish himself. It wasn’t at this point, though, that he lost sight of his family. They had another child, Elizabeth, their first daughter. Soon enough came Aidan, and Sean, and Siobhán. Brian threw himself into his work. His intentions were pure—he wanted to provide for his family, to give them a better chance in life than he’d had in Queens, but even though the kids went to private school in Manhattan (a better education, by far), and lived in a well-renovated brownstone on the lower east side, sometimes all they really wanted was to spend time with their dad. Like their cousin Colin—though admittedly they didn’t really want to grow up to work in the family deli like their cousin Colin. Still, they grew accustomed to only seeing their father at Sunday Mass. The kids grew up, and Elizabeth—well, she did what good Irish Catholic wives do when their husband lives only for their work. She pined for their Italian next door neighbor, Uncle Sal.
Brian (Sr.) was promoted and promoted, becoming more lost in his career. The kids grew up and Brian (Jr.) moved away. (Insert other life achievements of other children.) Things in his marriage grew frigid. Soon, the pack-a-day habit he’d picked up as a result of Wall Street peer pressure caught up with him. He was diagnosed with lung cancer. Brian (Jr.) moved back to help support the family. December 28th, 2007, Brian Finn Fitzpatrick passed away. He was 58 years old. Elizabeth mourned dutifully for the first two weeks of January, but when Uncle Sal offered her the trip of a lifetime, a chance to go to Europe and spend some of the life savings that Brian only ever saved, she took it. She settled her affairs and left her children behind with an international cell phone number and a promise to write postcards. Wish you were here. Thinking of you. The kids are still waiting on the first postcard, but they understand. European mail takes a long time. Besides, they still have each other—which is really what they were used to anyway.
To be a Fitzpatrick is to be family. Do you have what it takes?