Tying one on for St. Patrick's Day

TheI am wearing a tie today that I don exactly one time every year.

On this day, the 17th of March.

It belonged to my father. And it came from Ireland. I never got the story of how he came to acquire it. But I know that it was special to him.

It’s special to me, too.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Dad.

I don’t put much stock in the usual reveling that accompanies so much of the St. Patrick’s Day tradition in America and elsewhere.

I always remember my mother telling me that in Ireland St. Patrick’s Day is much more of a religious holiday than it is here. I don’t know if that is the case. I have never been to Ireland, never met the Heron’s that I am told still live there. I have always threatened my wife, who hails proudly from a very Italian family, that when I go I want a one-way ticket.

I will not quaff green beer today. I don’t drink beer during Lent. It’s a lousy idea, I know. But it’s one I’ve done for years now.

I won’t war any funny green hats, vests or buttons, either.

At some point this weekend I might sit down and watch “The Quiet Man,”
one of my favorite flicks. My family always tell me they named the movie after me.

If you’re Irish, be proud today. And every day. If you’re not, by all means share in all our sentiment today.

If you see a guy in a tartan plaid, skinny wool tie, that would be me.

Top of the morning to you!

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