Lá le Pádraig (Saint Patrick's Day)

Now, before I get started, I want to be clear about one thing. I do not want to indulge in any tired old cliches. For instance, as far as I can tell, no one's wars have been merry, and I happen to know a few Irish songs that are not sad. At the same time, I really, really do enjoy potatoes (I enjoy pasta as much, and thank God at least once a week that the brilliant Poles combined the two into the most exquisite food imaginable: the pierogie). I don't put green dye in my beer on Saint Patrick's Day, but I would never look askance at someone who chooses to do so. I do wonder, from time to time, what my Guinness would look like with a liberal supplement of green dye, but only until my attentive server returns with my next pint. With that general disclosure out of the way, let me get on with it.

Ladies and gentlemen (and, uh, gadfly), the high holy days approach! As far as I know, the term "high holy days," when used in relation to the nearing of Saint Patrick's Day, is a reference coined by Irish innkeepers in America to denote the relationship of the impending holiday to the relative strength required to carry all those bags of money out of their taverns and into their banks. I could certainly be wrong about that, and no matter the exact origins of the phrase, the phrase itself seems apt enough for me to use in my Saint Patrick's Day discourse. I will not (for now) get into the spiritual realm. Saint Patrick's Day is indeed a holy day. Being not particularly well qualified to discuss such matters, I'll stick with the aspect of the day that is a celebration of our Irish heritage.

Last year, my brother and sister-in-law's third son was born, and as usual, several members of her family from Ireland visited and stayed on throughout the season that I refer to as the "high holy days." They were surprised, and yet delighted, that my own observation of Saint Patrick's Day would begin the last weekend in February. I was to play the bagpipes at a service in which an Irish-American group that carries a large Irish flag and a large American flag in two local parades would have those flags blessed. It is an annual tradition, a very beautiful tradition, that I was proud to take part in. The ceremony was followed by a fantastic reception, with appetizers, dinner, entertainment, and of course, Guinness. Each subsequent weekend would consist of parades throughout the great, free state of New Jersey. Then there was the high holy day itself, and a couple of parties on the weekend after March 17. Saint Patrick's Day, like the baseball season, is not a sprint. It is a marathon. At this point, if I may be so bold, I ask you, "WHY NOT?" In every corner of this planet, on and around the 17th of March, proud men and women celebrate their Irish birth or heritage. The struggles, sufferrings, triumphs and accomplishments of the Irish people worldwide are worthy of a celebration of such magnitude. By way of illustration, and to pluck just one more reluctant feather out of the cap of John Bull, I say "THE SUN NEVER SETS ON THE IRISH!"

My good friend, the Jersey Devil, used to work every holiday he could, banked all his overtime hours as "comp" time, and took off the entire month of March. I won't lie to you. He is quite familiar with intoxicating liquors. During his time off in March, much more important than that, however, was his pride in his Irish heritage. Those high holy days were spent planning the proud celebration of that heritage, such as the flag ceremony I participated in last year, and not just having a few pints with the lads (although there was surely a bit of that as well). So, as those high holy days approach once again, let's sing loud, sing proud! Here's an early "Happy Saint Patrick's Day" to you, JD, and an early "Happy Saint Patrick's Day" to all!

Nár lagaí Dia do lámh!