Struggling through with joy... |
kind of.
Struggling through with joy... |
I am not the biggest fan of St. Patrick’s Day. Generally speaking, I love holidays. They often involve food, one of the best pleasures on earth, and I’m game to celebrate just about anything. National Donut Day? Let’s eat donuts. Women’s History Month? Let’s read some feminist poetry and ponder the future we hope to offer our little girls while sipping tea. Cinco de Mayo? Hell yeah, let’s listen to mariachi while we eat too many tacos and drink some cold Mexican beer. I’m down with a good holiday.
My dislike of St. Patrick’s Day has nothing to do with Ireland or Irish people. Although I’m not even a bit Irish, I can revel in some Irish culture. I love the literature Ireland has to offer, and my favorite mystery writer lives there; I like Irish food just fine, and I’m always happy to lift a pint; don’t even get me started on my beloved Irish musicians. They can do ballads like no one else, and I’m a girl who likes to be sobbing by the end of a good song, even if I was perfectly content minutes before. Irish musicians know how to do that to a person. My dislike has everything to do with two American traditions observed on St. Patrick’s Day: pinching people who aren’t wearing green and excessive consumption of green beer, which often leads to excessive amounts of green vomit. When I was seven, we stopped at the grocery store my dad managed before he dropped me off at school on St. Patrick’s Day. I was super proud of my outfit that day: a smart red turtleneck and grey circle skirt, with matching grey cable-knit tights and black mary janes. No green, of course, because red was and is my favorite color, and I don’t like being told what to wear. One of the clerks at my dad’s store gave me a little pinch and teased me about my outfit. I was livid. How dare she fail to recognize the brilliance of the red turtleneck and grey circle skirt! I was trying to look like a small secretary, which this woman clearly couldn’t recognize, and instead chose to focus on me wearing the wrong color? No thank you to that. The clerk didn’t know how she’d enraged me, but my dad could see it and chuckled, which only fueled my rage. I was near tears by the time another clerk gently pressed a shiny shamrock sticker to my turtleneck, which didn’t enhance my outfit but did save me from a few pinches, aside from the ones given by Petey, a classmate who claimed I wasn’t wearing enough green. Petey and I were not on friendly terms for the rest of first grade. As far as green beer goes, well, gross. I am no teetotaler. I am incredibly hypocritical, as I spent many a St. Patrick’s Day carousing with friends drinking whiskey and non-green beer. But I never threw up after those celebrations. I’d like to say this is because of my superior ability to wisely limit my alcohol consumption, but it’s because I am truly, deeply afraid of vomit in all its forms. Your vomit, my vomit, my kid’s vomit, that idiot at the end of the bar’s vomit: it is all horrifying. Yes, I know, no one likes puke, but it terrifies me in much the same way snakes and airplanes terrify others. I freak out. Not a small freak out, a full-blown, ugly-crying, hands-shaking, heart-racing freak out. Holidays that involve drinking massive amounts are not my favorite. I’m relieved to be done with the years of Fourth of July, Halloween and New Year’s Eve when I felt obligated to go out even though I was terrified the whole night. I can spot a drunk about to toss her cookies from a half-mile, and when I do, stay out of my way, because I’ll be in a full sprint. I would much rather have snakes thrown on me while flying than have to be near someone who is puking. And by near I mean within a two-mile radius. I get nervous if I hear one of my neighbors down the block has a stomach bug. I’m nervous even writing this, that’s how scared I am of throw up. Writing the words scares me. (Side note: This phobia has made teaching elementary school and mothering two little ones interesting. I think it highlights the depth of my love for my career and my kids that I’m willing to put up with near-weekly panic attacks in pursuit of what I love. Also, I need therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.) This St. Patrick’s day I acquiesced to the spirit of the day by putting on the dainty emerald earrings my husband got me a few years ago. I dressed my daughter in a green and blue sweatshirt and my son chose his own outfit: head-to-toe clashing shades of green. He looks adorable. I don’t want to dampen his enthusiasm with my humbug spirit. We will be going out for Indian food tonight while my kids hang out with their grandma, but only because a date night is rare and we want to revel in food we can’t eat with the kids. Maybe I’ll read some Irish poetry and cry to a few Damien Rice songs before the day is out, just to honor a little bit of what I truly love about Irish culture. Just don’t come near me with a green beer, thinking to pinch me for not wearing enough green. I will bitch slap that mug right out of your hands and run.
6 Comments
3/17/2018 04:10:51 pm
I can definitely see why you aren't wild about celebrating St. Patrick's Day. I like how you structured this from present to past and back. I also love the asides you shared in your childhood memory. ("Petey and I were not on friendly terms for the rest of first grade.")Your paragraph on vomit started to tense me up, because you really conveyed your vomit-phobia vividly! Nice job!
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franmcveigh
3/17/2018 04:42:47 pm
It's an interesting holiday that I have alternately celebrated and not celebrated. Maybe we celebrated it best when it was on school days? More thought required! Enjoy the day!
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Vanessa Worrell
3/17/2018 05:18:49 pm
My family on my mom's side is irish and every St Patricks day growing up we went to Shakey's pizza and sang irish songs. I enjoyed reading your rendition of St Patricks day, especially your younger self wearing the red turtleneck and grey circle skirt... awesome
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Oh my gosh, your descriptions are so good....Those last two lines had me laughing out loud! Nobody has to wonder about where you stand on things. I love it! By the way, I don't do the pinching or the green beer either, but I do have an Irish heritage and I happily wear green. :-) JudyK
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3/17/2018 05:42:49 pm
I have never heard of pinching someone who is not wearing green! How bizarre! I love that you chose to wear red on the green day - did you know that St. Joseph's Day is on the 19th - that's a great day to wear red! I'm part Irish and part Italian, so we celebrated both saints' days in our house growing up! Hoping you can steer clear of the v-word!
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Sonja Schulz
3/18/2018 08:57:53 am
that last line STILL has me rolling! YES!
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