Beyond the Byline: Have fun and celebrate every day

WILKES-BARRE — Finally, the real St. Patrick’s Day is almost here — it’s tomorrow, Monday, March 17.

One would think that there are numerous St. Patrick’s Days judging from all of the celebrations and parades that have been going on — all in good fun. But there is only so much bagpipe music one can take. Besides, aren’t bagpipes a Scottish thing?

Wouldn’t it be a good thing if we celebrated Christmas as often as we do St. Patrick’s Day? Imagine the presents, the cookies, the kielbasa, the pierogies, the Whitman’s samplers!

Having an O’ at the start of one’s last name certainly provides an immediate entree into the world of Irish lore and tradition.

Sure, I knew the enjoyment of sitting down for a plate full of ham-and-cabbage and carrots. And, on past occasions, I enjoyed a Guinness or two.

I’ll wait until Monday, March 17 — St. Patrick’s Day — to have my ham-and-cabbage dinner — or corned beef. I’ll wear a little green as I enjoy every bite and think about those days of long ago.

And on Wednesday, March 19 — St. Joseph’s Day — I’ll be sure to wear red and enjoy some Polish food in honor of my Polish roots as well. Mom’s maiden name was Kraszewski.

My mom’s pierogies and haluski and gwumpki (piggies) were awesome, as were her kielbasa with mustard seeds and potato pancakes — plotzskis — sometimes with sour cream and even jelly.

Growing up in Plymouth, I was around a lot of Irish people — and also a lot of Polish and Slovak, Welsh, Italian and Lithuanian folks, too. I know their heritage now, but I never gave it a second thought way back then.

I knew them, as my parents always would say, as people — good people.

So, once again, I will paraphrase a little Irish diddy I wrote many years ago:

An Irish Quart

An Irish lad asked a question

To his Irish daddy

What day’s t’day, he wondered loudly

‘Tis the day of dear old St. Paddy.

•

The boy then asked

Who is this guy, St. Paddy?

Why, son, he is the idol

Of every Irish lad and lassie.

•

More questions followed from the boy

When his father stopped him short.

Let me tell you a little tale

Of me and me Irish Quart.

•

When I was your age, I too asked

These same questions of my daddy

Twas then me Irish old man said,

‘Tis time to meet St. Paddy.

•

Out of a cupboard I thought to be bare

Came a bottle that smelled of paint.

Tonight we drink an Irish Quart

And we meet that Irish Saint!

•

There we were, my daddy and me,

Til the light of the early morn.

And that night I became a man,

For inside me the Irish was born.

•

I remembered seeing leprechauns

All green and a little fatty.

And to this day, I still do swear,

I spoke to old St. Paddy.

•

Now I hope all your questions are answered,

And I hope they weren’t too short.

But just to be sure, let’s you and me,

Go drink an Irish Quart.

•

This is a purely fictional tale that flew out of my mind when I was trying to convey to a couple of true Irish friends the bond that forms between Irish fathers and sons.

And before you get your Irish up, there is absolutely no certainty that alcohol was involved in the tale.

The story is of the spirit that lives and breathes in those with Emerald Isle roots.

And celebrations are for just that — having good, safe fun and honoring someone or something.

We didn’t eat ham and cabbage only on March 17 — heck, we would eat that anytime because it’s so darn good. The Polish delicacies my mom made were enjoyed year-round for the same reason.

And each time we did, there were stories of neighbors or relatives — fun stories, with good food and priceless memories.

So on St. Patrick’s Day, be sure to wear your green and on St. Joseph’s Day, sport a little red.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Happy St. Joseph’s Day!

Happy Every Day.