The first St. Patrick’s Day I recall was in 1935. I was 8. I remember it well because I’d failed to wear something green to school that day. The kids ragged me unmercifully. I never made that mistake again. I was to celebrate Pat’s Day the rest of my life. Is there anyone you know who is unfamiliar with leprechauns, shamrocks and the Blarney Stone: All elements attendant to St. Patrick’s?
Souvenirs that proliferate on St. Paddy’s Day include shamrock festooned scarves, green all-day suckers and, unbelievably, green wallpaper!
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He entered the Monastery of St. Germain where he studied under a friar. While in the monastery, he reportedly experienced a visitation from God, who told him to spread the gospel. He became a monk and returned to Ireland to tell the heathens the good news about Christianity. Pope Innocent the First refused to recognize Patrick. But his popularity soon convinced the pontiff to elevate him to the exalted position of Bishop of Ireland.
A sermon given by St. Patrick, from a high mount, is credited with removing all the snakes from Ireland. This was impossible since there were no snakes in Ireland, except for the phantom serpents seen by tipplers who were recovering from a hangover. But myth is more fun than fact.
Patrick died in AD 461 after a life devoted to converting pagans to Christianity. His admirers wanted sainthood bestowed upon him, but the Pope refused. It was not until the beginning of the sixth century that the Vatican beatified St. Patrick. It was not until late in the 18th century that St. Patrick’s Day was widely celebrated.
The British refused to recognize St. Patrick’s Day until a bill, “The Money Bank Act” of 1903 established it as a national holiday. St. Patrick’s Day was often moved around the calendar to make room for other holidays.
Even famous Irish authors, such as Oscar Wilde, James Joyce and Jonathon Swift failed to weave St. Patrick’s Day into their work. Sean O’Casey did write a “Drunken Ribald: St. Pat’s Day in a Pub:”
“We had dear little sprigs a stickin’ out of our hats. And a pint a’ stout on the table before us.”
There was a time when the holiday was celebrated more enthusiastically in New York than in Dublin. But since the turn of the century St. Patrick’s Day celebrations have spread throughout the world. And even the British have come around. The Queen Mother now offers shamrocks to the officers of the Irish Guards.
No saint, not Francis, not Benedict nor even St. Peter engenders as much joy as Patrick. What other saint moves people to go to a pub and drink beer with their friends — Guinness, preferably?
Some idiot, alarmed by the raucous crowds that gathered in public houses on this auspicious holiday, introduced a law in the British Parliament that would close pubs on St. Patrick’s Day. The M.P. was mobbed.
As a young man, I recall going to a pub in Santa Monica. I wore a shamrock in my button hole and a silly green hat on my head. And I drank green beer. I told my dad to come along with me.
“You drink green beer!,” my father exclaimed, “Not me.” My dad, a former home-brewer, didn’t understand. To him, green beer hadn’t been aged long enough and could deliver a belly ache.
St. Patrick’s Day spans continents, oceans, race and religion.
Wouldn’t it be great if delegations from the Muslims, the Jews, North Korea, Russia, a bank president or two and maybe some Republicans, were to get together on St. Patrick’s Day around a table groaning under the weight of beer mugs. Would that they could down the first round, then order another.
Ted Courtright is a Coastsider and a member of Senior Coastsiders’ Writing Workshop.
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