It’s not surprising that entertaining a visitor became the motivation for trying something new that’s close to home.

Kathy, who is a big fan of Irish and Scottish music, suggested taking our friend, visiting from New York, to the Galway Arms in Lincoln Park for their regular Sunday night gathering.

Each Sunday night, Paddy Homan (singer and percussionist) serves as anchor for a constantly changing group of musicians. He welcomes whatever musician decides to show up and play for a couple hours.

Rosin up your bow and pull up a chair if you enjoy making music and find yourself near Clark & Fullerton on Sunday night.

The evening is unrehearsed and pretty democratic. The ensemble might include a couple fiddles, a guitarist, a bagpiper, a banjo or accordion player, and maybe even a dancer. They take turns suggesting a piece or taking the lead.

The musicians gather around a wine colored faux leather booth and a couple chairs near the fireplace of the prototypical Irish pub. (Yes, from Cork to Madrid, Buenos Aires to Toronto, all Irish pubs seem to be fashioned following the same blueprint.)

Some of the songs were standards. Some of the tunes seemed familiar, but I had never heard the particular version of the lyrics before. I was in the minority here. If not afraid of warbling out of tune, folks with pints in their hands joined in on most choruses.

Funny that I could direct anyone to over a half dozen places in my neighborhood where they could get a steaming hot bowl of pho (Vietnamese noodle soup) or injera (Ethiopian bread), but I haven’t been to a good old-fashioned Irish pub and sing-along for years.

It was great to be re-introduced to a pub with a wood-burning fireplace, Guinness and Harp on tap (no need to try to be trendy with a local brew house’s flavor of the week), and a real pig bristle dartboard.

The place evoked a real Cheers feeling. Even if everyone didn’t know each other’s name, it was easy enough to exchange a smile.

We got there early so we could get a seat, nibble on some cod and fries, and pretend to be amused by the blarney of young Irishmen telling tales to the young women setting on nearby bar stools.

Mariko, a classically trained Japanese dancer, sat in the musician’s circle. When she heard something to her liking, she pushed aside her chair and high-stepped her way through a jig that would put the Trinity Academy dancers leading a Saint Paddy’s Day parade to shame.

Back in my twenties, I used to follow my older sister to The Abbey Pub or The Glenshesk – long since closed. At the time, I was more motivated by the idea of being out of my parents’ home than by an attraction to Irish tenors or room-temperature beer.

Visiting the Galway Arms, I was re-acquainted with the warmth and charm of friends, and friendly strangers, getting together for a sing-along.

In such an atmosphere, it’s easy to forgive each other and even easier, in the way we’d smile and glance at each other, to feel that we’ve met before.

Discovering that an old friend, that you haven’t seen in years, lives only a short distance away is no small thing.