Today is my favorite holiday! Hold up, my second favorite holiday; I’m a Halloween fanatic. Third favorite, my third favorite holiday (Flag day).
My Irish blood swims around my veins and spits out through my red hair and pale skin; naturally, I have a love/hate relationship with the holiday which manages to both celebrate and demean my Irish heritage.
St. Patrick’s Day can (and should be) a family holiday. Never mind the drunk parade. Never mind the girls puking in the street and the bros who drink Michelob Ultra out of a skinny can with a coozie. There is more to St. Patrick’s Day than drinking and fighting and acting like an idiot.
Because truth be told, (pause for serious effect), the Irish are the most humble, down-to-earth people I’ve ever met. Their representation deserves some balance. (more…)
I remember sitting at the pub in Ireland. We were dead tired from the day’s journey. My friend and I were traveling through the country on a two-week expedition—suspending our futures for an adventure. As in most stops, local chatter was custom.
“You could call it ‘self discovery’ I guess,” I responded to the friendly stranger, “but I’m not so sure.” He was an older man, plump and symmetric on his bar stool, inquisitive like most Dingle natives. “Our plan was just to get away from life.”
“Get away from life?” he chortled, clearing the fresh mustache of Guinness off his lip. His accent was thick but warm: “Life is all there is lad, a gift. Every day it renews and don’t forget it.”
“You never needed to just leave, clear your head, reflect?” I begged.
“That’s what lunch is for,” he replied, “besides, I’ll have plenty o’ time to reflect when I’m dead.” He smiled, finished his drink and rose. “Make your days count boy, life is not a patient lass.” He paid for my drink and left.