From Dublin to Georgia: A Leap Across the Atlantic

Billy Galligan - Author

Welcome to the show, everyone! I'm Billy Galligan. Picture this: it is a damp, grey Sunday in Dublin, the kind of day where the rain doesn't just fall, it sort of hangs in the air like a wet wool coat. I was standing in my kitchen, holding a mobile phone, listening to the static of a trans-Atlantic connection. On the other end of the line, six thousand miles away in the sweltering heat of Atlanta, Georgia, Leanne was just home from a friend's baby shower. Leanne lived over there, and I was living in Dublin, and we were just chatting, the way you do. Out of nowhere, she asked me a question. Not "would you ever think about it" or "what do you reckon about" -- just straight out: "What if the ocean wasn't in the way?" And I said, "Sure, why not. I'll move."

Billy Galligan - Author

Now, any sensible man with a comfortable life would have listed the fifty reasons why that was absolute madness. But I've always had this habit of looking at a massive, terrifying detour and thinking, ah feck it -- sure, why not? That little phrase has been the compass for almost every major turn in my life. But saying it is one thing; living the reality of it is quite another. It meant turning in my kit after twenty-three years in the Irish Defence Forces.

Billy Galligan - Author

Let me tell you, when you've spent over two decades in the military, that green uniform becomes your skin. It is your routine, your safety net, your entire identity. Handing back my boots, my gear, and walking out of those barracks for the last time felt like stepping off a cliff in the dark. I wasn't Billy G the soldier anymore. I was just a fella in his mid-forties, packing fifty pounds of his life into a couple of cheap suitcases, wondering if he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Billy Galligan - Author

But as I stood at Dublin Airport, looking at those bags, I realized I was just joining a very long, very crowded queue. Since 1820, it is estimated that over six million Irish people have made that exact same journey to the United States. During the Great Famine peak between 1851 and 1860, nearly eighty-one percent of all emigrants to the US were Irish. We are a people built on leaving, on carrying our stories in our pockets and hoping the new soil treats us kind. Today, something like forty-three million Americans identify as having Irish background. I was just one more drop in that massive, historic bucket, taking my turn to cross the water.

Billy Galligan - Author

Of course, actually moving is a very different thing. When I finally landed over here, the heat hit me first. Dublin doesn’t really do heat, but Georgia? My word. I flew into Orlando first, and driving up to Atlanta the next day, stepping out was like walking face-first into a thick, heavy wall of Southern humidity. It felt like being wrapped in a warm, wet blanket. A far cry from a crisp, cool Dublin breeze. And then, there I was: driving on what felt like the wrong side of the road, white-knuckling it on massive five-lane highways, trying to make sense of a completely new world.

Billy Galligan - Author

My first real crisis of confidence didn't happen on the motorway, though. It happened in the middle of a Kroger grocery store. I went in to get a simple loaf of bread. Back home, you grab a loaf of Brennan's, and you're out the door. But I found myself standing in this American bread aisle, and it was the size of a football pitch. There were fifty different brands of sliced white bread. Honey wheat, butterbread, potato bread, extra fiber, buttermilk, organic... I stood there for ten minutes, completely paralyzed by choice, staring at these colorful bags and feeling an overwhelming, quiet loneliness. When even buying bread feels like a test you're failing, you realize just how far you are from home.

Billy Galligan - Author

And the road rules! Lord mercy. A few weeks after arriving, I was driving down a quiet road when this massive yellow school bus stopped ahead of me. I saw the yellow lights, then the flashing red lights, and the little stop sign popped out on the side. Now, back in Dublin, you just drive on past a bus when it stops. So I kept going. Suddenly, I looked in my mirrors and realized every single car in both directions had ground to an absolute halt. The drivers were staring at me like I was a criminal. I slammed on my brakes, my heart in my mouth, sweating through my shirt. It's a bit of a laugh now, considering I spend my days now driving one of those exact yellow chariots of chaos for Gwinnett County schools, but back then, it was terrifying.

Billy Galligan - Author

Fast forward to 2021. I was standing in a quiet federal room in Atlanta to take the Oath of Allegiance. Because of the COVID restrictions, there were no families allowed. No Leanne. No kids. No familiar faces in the room. Just a handful of us sitting in spaced-out chairs, waiting for our turn.Standing there alone, taking that oath, was harder than I expected.It felt like finishing a story with the main characters missing from the final chapter.I remember looking around and thinking, this is the bit that was supposed to be shared. This was the moment Leanne and the kids were supposed to see. But there I was, standing on my own. Then again, maybe that’s fitting too.Because the oath wasn’t really the ending.It was just the paperwork catching up with a life that had already happened. The real story wasn’t that room in Atlanta. The real story was a phone call years earlier. A simple question! “What if the ocean wasn’t in the way?” None of this happens if I answer differently.No Georgia.No family life here.No school bus.No books.No podcast.No life that I now couldn’t imagine being without. If I’d stopped to list all the reasons it was a terrible idea, I’d probably still be sitting in Dublin wondering what might have been.Instead, I said three simple words. “Sure, why not. “And that’s really the story behind the name.It’s not just the title of a memoir.It’s not just the title of a podcast.It’s a way of looking at life.A reminder that sometimes the biggest adventures begin with the smallest decisions.So wherever you’re listening from, thanks for joining me.And remember…What if? Sure, why not.