The Irish are a jovial people and hence, a jovial celebration that has come to embrace and include anyone who feels like partaking. Even if partaking means drinking green beer, wearing ridiculous hats and generally dressing like an idiot while knowing nothing about what you’re celebrating. Maybe we should all take note not to take ourselves and our damn holidays so seriously or separate everyone else from experiencing them.
I mean, how awesome would it be if we all celebrated Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Guy Fawkes Day, Australia Day, Martin Luther King Day, Canada Day … we keep adding days, we might be celebrating a whole lot more and maybe, just maybe, a little less pissed about all the other crap we end up moaning about. We might come together as a people … imagine all the people, living life in peace. I figure we wouldn’t have to go more than two weeks at the most without a holiday. And I’m all for it.
Because in the end, whatever you’re celebrating, you get together with people, sometimes family, sometimes friends, ideally people you love or at least care enough about to go through the effort. And however somber the holiday, and however much you moan about the insanity of your family or whomever you’re getting together with … there’s still a part of you that enjoys it and is glad you went through the effort when it’s all said and done.
I love holidays like Saint Patrick’s Day. I don’t have to spend money on presents for the gazillion people in my family, I don’t have to travel insanely to spend face time with everyone, and yet it’s a day of fun green food, good wishes, and smiles. I still haven’t jumped on the green beer wagon, since I’m pretty psyched about my amber to brown colored beer, but I don’t want to hold anyone else back from enjoying it. I did, however, make my son a ridiculous green breakfast and send him off to school looking like the jolly green giant threw up on him.
The Irish. They’ve suffered, been downtrodden and starved. But, damn, they know how to have a good time, and to make sure those around them do as well. When I went over one summer, just mentioning I was American meant I was bought beers all night. It was the only time I remember my arm being sore from holding full pint glasses all night when I woke up the next morning.
So, unless you’re Scottish and sporting orange today, Happy Saint Patrick’s Day. Can you still say “top o’ the morning to you!” in the afternoon?