A Wee Bit Of Blarney

Today is St. Patrick's Day. Being a true Irishman, I'm getting ready to celebrate and I welcome anyone who wants to revel with me. The Irish are a friendly lot, so we don't care who says they're Irish today. I'm going to keep this short. We're off to celebrate my mom's birthday, and the Black and tans are calling my name. I don't think you can get more Irish than being born on St. Patrick's Day.

I'll probably take it easy today. We're going to be with family and the thought of all the kids seeing old uncle Brian heaving green beer and corned beef doesn't make for grand holiday memories. I have mellowed over the years. St. Patrick's Day used to be my New Years Eve back in the day. I was known to put on my custom made leprechaun suit and cut a wide path through many a local tavern. Thank God "Wife" came into the picture, or who knows what would have happened to me. There's nothing more pathetic that an old man in green curly elf shoes lying in the gutter asking young lasses to kiss his Blarney stone.

I'm sure we'll be hearing a lot of Irish music this afternoon. If you listen to any, you'll see why the Irish drink. Most of the songs are very depressing. They're about death, loneliness and loss. It's kind of like country music with bagpipes. The other Irish songs are about rebels fighting and dying for the cause of independence. Who wouldn't want to tip a few after a rousing rendition of "Wild Colonial Boy"?

I'm going to be doing some thinking today about my grandparents. They all came over to this country for a better life. My maternal Grandmother came over when she was 16. I don't think I'll ever have those kind of guts. My paternal Grandfather had to flee his home to escape the British. I come from pretty tough stock and I'll be thinking of them today.

So enjoy the day, enjoy being or pretending to be Irish and remember..."In order for an Irishman to converse with an equal, he has to talk to God." May the road rise to meet you. Later...Brian