An Irishman is never drunk as long as he can hold onto one blade of grass to keep from falling off the earth.
Here in my neck of the woods, there has been a Saint Patrick’s Day parade every year since 1981. After that a party on Lower Greenville Avenue. The parade is on the Saturday before the Big Day. It is the biggest St. Patty’s Day parade and festival in the Southwest.
I have never been to the one here in Texas. So all I know about this parade is that one of my girlfriends conceived both of her children after the parades, so watch out for that green beer, ladies! Been to a gazillion Mardi Gras parades so I have a little parade burn out.
My grandmother’s grandmother came from Ireland. About the time of the potato famine. We don’t know much about her other than my uncle has her iron cook pot now. Should have kept better records. What we do know is passed down in attitude. There are a lot of heavy drinkers swinging from my family tree. But, even the drunks were not allowed to be nasty tempered. Most of us are pretty happy-go-lucky. We are the cup is half full instead of the cup is half empty kind of people. Sometimes to the point where it annoys the more sober “realistic” types. So what? All hand wringing ever did for me was chap my knuckles.
An Old Irish Blessing
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
- Saint Patrick, We Hardly Knew Ye (barstoolperspectives.com)