On St. Patrick’s Day, everyone is Irish. My family is Irish, and in the town up north, where my mother’s mom grew up, and so did Cathie, she, with the help of a few other lovely people, put together over time a pretty comprehensive account of the Irish my mother’s side of the family has in them. It is interesting, although I only have a passing familiarity with them.
It looks like this St. Patrick’s Day, 2020, I’ll be a little less Irish. It looks grim.
I wish a lot of things were different, but I never would have chalked up this catastrophe to something I would see in my lifetime. I hear of environmental warnings, like that there could be, say, eight years until the damage to the planet caused by humans becomes irreversible, or that global warming will cause sea levels to rise, however active God is, on the picture at large.
To consider attacks between warring groups the world over, hellbent on decreasing each other to iotas, to very small pieces, I think also of various police forces unfairly treating peaceable citizens, because they loathe the skin colour or some addiction that isn’t completely the fault of the party in question, for behaviour that doesn’t toe the line for the safety of the public. I think about these now and again, yet I hadn’t thought of what really descended this spring.
I always do my best to enjoy St. Patrick’s Day, as so many do with aplomb and style. Here now we are called on to be, as I believe it is spelled in a phrase, not Godfearing, but socially distant. Good on us all the same, that we would find solidarity in separating from one another, in a fashion that, like the lot of the unlucky addict, is no fault of our own.
We will have to come up with new measures to survive a crisis that isn’t manmade, and we have to do it at a time when I am sure many of us in the West would be happier celebrating St. Patty’s in the usual fashion, wearing the colour green, so to speak. We’re told to stay out of bars and restaurants and nightclubs and still young people want to.
I want to be young myself, but not to the extent I want to risk sacrificing getting old. I attempted to think about a superb St. Patrick’s Day I could recollect and say something regarding, and although I recall it every year, I don’t know I could say that any March festivity was better than some other. A number of them were beautiful.
I barely care about 1998, when I turned twenty-one years of age. However, against how this spring is going, I don’t think the excitement of taking a visit back in time is going to especially cause me to feel better. St. Patty’s this year is sullen, even heartbreaking.
I like to enjoy letting give a kind word at certain times, because a little kindness sprinkled liberally, while not reversing the uncertainty that we’re facing, does help temper the darkness. I would like to wish you a happy St. Patrick’s Day, dreadful or not.
You may be savvier to nurture your home, given the alerts about staying far off from each other, yet St. Patrick’s Day isn’t to be overlooked, obviously. Go with the luck of the Irish! Don’t be foolish, but don’t forget to fool, I’m saying.
Let’s have a safe spring! You’re of course welcome to comment and to follow. All the best to you, and your loved ones.