_____ me, I’m ______
I’m sure the blogs of America are now full to bursting with people talking about St. Patrick’s Day. I was going to write something about how I don’t really celebrate it, that I don’t quite see how one can “celebrate” St. Patrick’s Day who isn’t Catholic, but instead I’ll explain.
I have Irish blood, sure. Most of my friends do, too, and only really lay claim to it in early March or under special circumstances like drinking contests or when Notre Dame is playing.
Fact: My grandmother changed the spelling of her daughter Bridget’s name to avoid having it be “too Irish” (fear of being associated with the IRA.)
Fact: My mother converted from Catholicism when she married my father.
Fact: I don’t actually know a thing about St. Patrick. (Now I do.)
Therefore, I don’t really feel like I can claim any kind of loyalty or right to celebrate today. Ah well, it’ll save me a hangover.
Instead, why don’t I celebrate what I am actually proud of about my family’s history:
My mother’s mother took dancing lessons from Gene Kelly. My grandfather owned a double-wide in the sticks until the day he died. It was full of weird little trinkets; on one wall hung at least a dozen different-sized calipers. A WWII pilot, last year his gruffness actuallly gave me the opportunity to say “Chinaman isn’t the preferred nomenclature, Grandpa.”
My father’s parents passed away when I was a kid, but I remember Granny being sweet and smelling like powder. She made mashed potatoes with lard, which made them taste much better, and always had little bowls of gumdrops that I would suck all the sugar off of and then try to put back. Mase (I actually thought this was his first name for most of my childhood, only later did I realize it was a shortening of our last name) had my dad and I over for lunch every Tuesday, and he would boil four hot dogs and cut them into bite-size pieces. I would douse them in ketchup and watch cartoons while he and my dad visited in the kitchen.
If anything, I think St. Patrick’s Day should be about celebrating your heritage, where you come from. I’m a Mick, a Limey, and a Kraut. (I hear I also have some Scot in me, but I didn’t know a racial slur for them.) But that isn’t where I come from – that’s just trivia. I come from the people who raised me; they come from the people who raised them. So today, when most everyone I know is getting hammered just because they can, I’ll drink to them: Mary, Melvin, John, and Audrey.
(Thanks, Gabe, for the title)
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Jess, thanks for the wonderful family history. I’ll raise a glass to them because they came up with you.
Although, I’m not Catholic, I do usually celebrate St. Patrick’s day. My family is Irish but it’s not something that I only remember in March. They left Ireland in 1847 (Black 47), went to Scotland, stayed there for a couple of years, bought a boat and sailed to America, landing in Boston. The story goes on from there but as this is your blog I won’t keep going on. Basically, there is a line of grandmothers and grandfathers going back who’s names and stories I’ve learned since I was little. When I say I am Irish, it is them I am celebrating.
St. Patrick’s day got a sort of special meaning to me, though. My bro (my best bud who is also largely Irish and immersed in family history) and I have celebrated together since we both moved to the East Coast.
Last year, I went to see him on St. Patrick’s Day. We didn’t do much to celebrate. He was in the middle of going through chemo and he looked awful. I remember I said to him, “You know, we’re Irish. We’ve been through worse.†We laughed and then sat around recounting every awful thing that had happened to our families over several generations, as far back as we could remember.
This year, I’ve decided I’m not celebrating. My bro and I couldn’t get together and quite frankly, without him, there doesn’t seem much point.
So here’s to your family and here’s to my’bro. Happy day, all.
Comment by Clara — March 17, 2007 @ 8:08 am
Honestly, I’m not that very much Irish either – s’not going to stop me from taking advantage of a situation to wear my green dress and go have a pint after work tonight.
To our heritage!
Comment by Gabe — March 17, 2007 @ 8:57 am
Being in no way Irish completely failed to stop me from spending an hour in a dive called The Blarney Stone. Where is my French Canadian Pride holiday?
Comment by Nate — March 20, 2007 @ 7:43 am
There aren’t any anti-Scottish slurs because we are a perfect people. If you’d like, though, I can share with you a number of interesting and useful anti-Irish slurs with which I am familiar.
Comment by Drew Habits — March 22, 2007 @ 11:39 am