 |
|
 |
  |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|
March 16, 2005 |
|
|
Don’t you sometimes
get the feeling the Irish are just being polite? Or maybe they’re thirsty
and it’s your turn to buy. Tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day and you just know
the innumerable times your ears will hear, “On St. Paddy’s Day everybody’s
Irish.” It’s a nice thought but oh so wrong. Not to pick on the Irish.
After all, my taste buds relish a steaming plate of corn beef and cabbage
accompanied by a green beer or two and even a wee touch of Bushmills. And
I’ve been known to get so filled with St. Patrick’s Day spirit I’ll laugh
out loud at Brian Mahoney’s “Pat and Mike” humor, but the cold hard truth
is, Irish I ain’t no matter what day of the year. Other things I’m not, no
matter how intense the effort, is Mexican on Cinco de Mayo, African-American
at Kwanza or Scandahoovian come the Lutefisk Festival. Each and every
ethnic celebration on our year’s calendar is filled with good times but for
those of us with a festival-less heritage, celebrations outside the
bloodlines most resemble partying at a wedding reception where you know the
parents of the bride, or the groom, but wouldn’t know the couple being
married if they walked up and bit your nose. It’s the kind of event where
if you really get involved people think you’re a gate crasher. Come days
like St. Patrick’s we WASP’s are really just on the outside trying our
greenest to fit in. Since the Maynard heritage is a mutt like mix of English and German there really is no ethnic festival to call our own unless the 4th of July qualifies. Oh the Germans manage to drink a little beer at Oktoberfest but it’s more of a seasonal celebration not a real occasion for feeling proud about one’s national heritage, the kind of pride in your bloodline that only comes from driving the snakes off the Emerald Isle or the French out of Mexico. Speaking of Germany’s Gaullist neighbors one supposes Deutchlanders could celebrate all their many successful invasions of France but that’s akin to folks living in Western Colorado having a holiday that commemorates driving to Delta. In fact, examined in the cold light of day, even with the new and improved Highway 50 coupled with wonderful inventions like automatic transmissions and cruise control the argument’s still valid that driving to Delta is considerably more difficult than a successful invasion of France. As for the Brit’s, the best they can come up with for a “pride party” is either Guy Fawkes Day or Shrove Tuesday. These are not the most exciting of celebrations. On Shrove Tuesday, always the last day before the beginning of Lent, while Mardi Gras winds up in a bacchanalian frolic here in the States those “Good time Charlie’s” populating the British Isles get their Lent game faces on by sitting around and eating pancakes. Some holiday that is. Why not re-name it IHOP Tuesday? Guy Fawkes Day, November 5th, doesn’t appear to rank much higher on life’s “fun meter” than Shrove Tuesday. Guy Fawkes was the leader of a group that hatched the Gunpowder Plot to blow up Parliament and King James I on the same day in 1605. Before Guy could pull off his terrorist tour de force he was captured, tortured and executed. So on Guy Fawkes Day, aka Bonfire Night, the English shoot off fireworks and burn effigies. Not to find fault with my forefathers across the Atlantic but most folks seem to prefer the Irish way to celebrate a holiday as opposed to attending an effigy burning on a cold November night. Yet as bad as the Brits and the Germans are at celebrations drinking beer and eating pancakes sure beats the hell out of plate full of lukewarm lutefisk. |
||
|
|