Thoughts on a St. Patrick Morn:
I’ve seen the windy city river dyed green. I’ve seen a Gaelic Storm drinking whiskey atop bars, singing of “Irish kisses” and “Kevin Kelly with his chopped off wellies” with “snails in the yard.” I’ve seen parades filled with green booze and big smiles in celebration of lands they may never see themselves. I’ve seen dishes of beef and cabbage fill the mouths of men as they relish in stories brought back from their roots.
I’ve been lucky enough to have seen and to have felt an Irish sense of pride, though I’m about as Irish as St. Patrick himself once was.
With all of the misunderstanding, the misrepresentation of individuals and their own beautiful cultures, I beg you on this St. Patty’s Day to pinch and to drink to all of our ancestors, regardless of where they roamed while here, planted atop the ground. Let us resemble St. Patrick and waltz together in waves to celebrate the green undertow instead of assessing the green on opposing sides of fences, the green in another’s wallet, the green of envy that appears second nature these days. For we will rest below the same green land much sooner than we’d like, much sooner than we think. Aren’t all of our little intentions funny like that.
Today my babe and I will wear green, talk of many things, and continue to grow, grow, grow. I think my mini-monster is equally intrigued by the green of the land, of Spring, of St. Patrick’s Day. I only hope I can foster his adoration of the beauty found in such days, such monumental moments we share in the tiny ounce of time we are given.
Tell me your plans for this day of St. Patrick. Will you wear your wellies? Will you be little Irish fish?