The Drinking of the Green
Monday is St. Patrick’s Day. It’s a little unusual in that it’s a Christian Holy Day that doesn’t appear to have been stolen from any sort of Pagan celebration. That hasn’t stopped it, though, from devolving into something rather un-church-like.
It’s a day, in the United States at least, where vast numbers of people celebrate the notion of being Irish. Even those of us with some actual Irish heritage tend to celebrate the notion of being Irish rather than the actuality of being Irish.
What does that mean? It means wearing green, because Ireland, due to its verdant splendor, is called the Emerald Isle. It means professing a belief in Leprechauns, though not necessarily to the point of eating Lucky Charms for breakfast. It means eating corned beef and cabbage for dinner. And it means drinking. Drinking bad American beers dyed green or good Irish ales and whiskeys left just as they are.
So come Monday, tip a glass to me. I’ll hoist one in honor of everyone reading this and God promises he’ll drink a separate toast for each of you. He can do that, he doesn’t get hangovers.
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