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Living on my Reillys, Rileys etc.
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Back when the Rileys were top of the pile, the family coat of arms used to mean something — like a logo for genetic material. It can be viewed as an abstract representation of a double helix.
But when yours is a severed orange hand dripping blood, the impression sure isn't romantic. In Ireland, severed hands were an emblematic dime a dozen. Them Celts knew the shock value of body parts.
However, ours, if I can claim such lineage, had a great story attached to it. The Riley bros were told by their da that the one who touched Irish soil first got their choice of land.
In rowing to shore — some sort of boat race was involved — one of the lads saw that he was slipping behind his sibling(s). Rather than miss out on the chance of a lifetime, junior hacked off his own hand and threw it ahead onto the beach. And the winner, by a bloodied fist, is ...
It was thus that the Rileys grasped County Cavan in the open palm of a severed hand, thereby learning a lesson or two about sibling rivalry. I live on to tell the story at some time and distance from its occurrence.
This quaint episode doesn't enlighten us about the most perplexing aspect of Riley folklore: the origin of the phrase "living the life of Riley". Every now and then someone is sure to write to me with just such a query. Until now, I haven't been able to help them.
Fortunately, a fellow from the United States, who takes his Rileyness more seriously than I, has supplied me with the following explanation.
After the incident with the hand, the Rileys consolidated their hold (sic) on County Cavan. As befits such clannishness, they minted their own money. This money was widely recognised for its value; even in England it was accepted as legal tender.
The coins became known as "O'Reillys" or "Reilly's" and, as such, became synonymous with a monied person. A gentleman freely spending his cash was said to be "living on his Reillys" or "living the life of Reilly".
So, if I had 15 Rileys, spent four at the market and gave three away, how many Rileys would I have left? [R15-R4 = R11. R11-R3=R8.] And if I bought a pint of Guinness for myself, then shouted the whole bar, I truly would be "a gentleman freely spending his cash" — and there would be very few Rileys left.
This, no doubt, explains why I am stuck with the name and always out of cash. It is in the nature of us Rileys to spend like a man without any hands.
By Dave Riley