Wearin' of the Green

 

It's almost time for St. Patrick's Day, which is an American holiday where everyone is Irish. And if you're not, then you should be. St. Paddy's Day was a holy day in Ireland, to honor St. Patrick, who actually wasn't Irish at all. He was originally from Britain and from a wealthy family. As the story goes, he was kidnapped by Irish pirates as a young man and ended up in pagan Ireland. He eventually became a missionary and Bishop in the Christian church. Legend tells us that he used a shamrock to teach the concept of the Trinity. He is also said to be responsible for driving all of the snakes out of Ireland.  He is thought to have died on March 17, in the year 470 or 471. That became his Feast Day. It didn't become a public holiday until 1901. It remained a religious day for many years. The pubs were even kept closed on March 17 until 1970. The first official government sponsored St. Pat's Festival was in 1995 in Dublin. The original purpose was to promote tourism and boost the economy.

There is a very large Irish population in the United States, and most of them love to celebrate this day. It is customary to wear at least a little something green. That will keep you from getting pinched by a leprechaun. It's better to be safe than sorry.

The first Irish parade that was recorded in North America was in New York City in 1762. Irish soldiers in the British army marched to Irish music on March 17 to honor their heritage. Now there are parades on this day all over the world.

In my own family, my children claim to be nearly one hundred percent Irish. That isn't possible since Ancestry.com claims that only  about six percent of my blood is green. The rest they got from their dad. We all know just about every Irish song, so I'm sure that qualifies. And I think every one of us has an Irish sense of humor.

The Kindness of Strangers

 I notice a lot of things when watching British mystery tv. Of course everybody drinks a lot of tea. And when the detective interviews someone about a suspect or a victim over a cuppa, the person will almost always say, "I really don't know anything about it. He kept himself to himself." We don't hear that here in the United States, because most people love to talk, especially about themselves and their history. 

I don't usually think of myself as someone who is an oversharer. At least not in person. When it comes to writing, I am much more likely to spill the tea. Does anyone else wonder what that means? Well, I looked it up. I thought it was a new saying, but it has actually been a bit of American slang since the 1980's. It means to tell the truth about something scandalous, dramatic or juicy.

One thing I notice a lot is that people tend to think that no one overhears when they are talking on a cellphone. I am always surprised at the ones who will talk loudly on speakerphone when they are out shopping. Just the other day I felt like I was following a woman at Target because I could hear her conversation from several aisles away. She was telling a friend very intimate details about her divorce and custody hearing and talked the entire time she was in the store.

A few days later I was in the pharmacy, when a man looking at greeting cards shared family stories with a stranger who was also looking at cards. They weren't good stories, and I'm surprised he was actually buying cards for people he disliked so much. Not to be out done, she also had her share of horror stories. Once again, they were very loud, and I could easily hear them from several aisles away.

Now if you are starting to get the idea that I am just a creepy eavesdropper sort of person, I'm really not. Anyway, not most of the time. For the sake of clarity, I will admit that during the time when I was alone and lonely I used to deliberately listen to old married couples in restaurants. More than once I fought off the urge to go to their tables and tell them to be nicer to each other.

There are also people who want to share happy times. There is a cashier I see in another store who tells everyone the story of how his parents met. He enjoys it every time he repeats it, and I try to take the time to listen.

Sometimes it is easier to share things with strangers than with those we know. When I was going through sadness and misery, I remember more than one occasion when I cried with women who were there for me in the very worst moments, but I never saw them again. I will always think of them as my angels and remember the kindness they gave me when I desperately needed it.

It is a good thing to share connections and experiences with other people. Let's just try not to do it loudly and publicly.