Though I have not even .0001% of Celtic blood coursing through my veins, St. Patrick's day has always been a wonderful, smile inducing, mirthful day for me. I have always proudly worn my green in support of all of my Irish friends. I have had more than my share of green beer in far flung reaches of the earth. And I have been struck quiet in awe of the Chicago River dyed green in honor of dear old St. Paddy.
Today, as an exercise for my happiness project (and while I was getting the bottle blond removed for the first time in over 20 years at the salon) I was pondering St. Patrick's day and what it means to me as an American woman with no Irish blood.
First, I thought back as far as I could remember for St. Patrick's Day celebrations. A sea of green was the first thing I could remember. It was a memory of all the children in preschool dressed up in the appropriate color for the day. With a smile upon my lips, I also remembered my mother telling me how she always wore orange on St. Patrick's Day because she was not Irish. Funny how just a generation later, we were already enthusiastically embracing this now American holiday.
I remembered "Boiled Dinners" cooked by my grandmother and mother. The sweet smell of the simmering corned beef with the carrots, potatoes and cabbage. Today, I am preparing this dish at the request of my German husband. Being an immigrant, I think he has embraced this fun filled day more so than even I have. Today, I dug out an authentic recipe for corned beef and cabbage and the goodness is simmering away happily on my stove. Perhaps even my picky eaters will try the meal from the land of the Leprauchan?
Drifting around in my mind, I traveled back to the Dubliner Irish bar that we frequented in Washington, DC when I lived there. Such a happy, happy place filled with young professionals and seasoned party-goers alike. I remember being at the bar on St. Patrick's day and a man from Ireland gleefully telling me that today I was Irish in my heart. So for today, I will be Irish in my heart for him. His name is long forgotten, but his glimmering blue eyes and contagious smile will live in my mental picture book forever.
Then my mind drifted to green beer. Green beer and St. Patrick's day go hand in hand. And was always flowing out of every bar in the US back in my college days. I remember the year I lived in Cordoba, Spain and the St. Patrick's day that we decided to have at the local bar. There was no green food coloring on hand, so we convinced our friendly bartender, that Creme de Menthe licquor would do the job just right. I always giggle at the memory of the bunch of us bravely smiling and drinking the concoction trying to pretend that it was just like home.
Then my mind flitted to our time in Dublin. The crazy weekend when on the flight from London to Dublin the gentle and nice man sitting next to me was quite inebriated after drinking the afternoon away in a bar at Heathrow after a few delayed flights. Half way through the flight, he asked me when the bus was going to arrive at the bus station. Then he became frightened and tried to open the window to get out. (At least we were not on the emergency aisle.) Landing was quite uncomfortable because the flight attendant was sitting on my neighbor to keep him in his seat for everyone's safety. The funniest part was that when we recounted this story to the taxi driver, he never missed a beat and said, "That had to be an Irish boy." And it was!
So, next time I am feeling glum, I should just take a stroll down St. Patrick's Day memories. This exercise really made me appreciate the power of St. Patrick and how much fun today is. Here is my favorite Irish band singing one of my favorite songs. Hope you like the Corrs too!
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