Thursday, March 17, 2016
Today I am grateful for St. Paddy’s Day. Himself and I would be wishin’ you and yers the merriest of days on this holiest of all holy days.
After paradin’ our green selves all over town t’day, lookin’ like we dropped out of the Limerick parade, we were takin’ the top off a fresh bottle of Irish Mist, back at home, when we determined that we have spent 38 St. Paddy’s Days together.
The last years have been mild, but oh the parties we have had! Hundreds of people! Hundreds, would look forward every year to the Mooney’s St. Paddy’s Day Bash. I made ALL the food m’self and Himself took care o’ the booze end. Both were huge jobs. But NO GREEN BEER at our gatherin’. “No self-respecting Irishman would drink green beer! That’s for the rookies!” No corned beef ‘n cabbage either, because Himself didn’t want it stinkin’ up the house. I would argue and tell him he was a poor excuse for an Irishman.
Then we went to Ireland. And he bought a tweedy Irish hat and scarf and threw it over his tweedy sport coat with a dark turtleneck underneath. During the St. Paddy’s Day Parade he crossed the street to buy something from a little shop, while I was chatting with a local woman. She said, “And where is yer husband, now?” I looked across the street at the 50 men gathered for the parade and I swear I couldn’t find him. He was Waldo in a sea of Waldo’s! They all looked alike. Brothers on the uld sod one and all!
So I don’t question the heritage anymore because Irish as Paddy’s Pig he is. . . and me, too, in name if nothin’ else! Erin Go Braugh!