Happy St Patrick's 2010

La'Fheile Pa'draig Sona Duit

For those unfamiliar with ancient Hibernian tongues, I have just wished you Happy St. Patrick's Day in Gaelic. Patrick is of course, the patron saint of Ireland (pronounced 'areland), also known as Eire in its native tongue. Ireland is known as the Emerald Isle, since its regular rains leave a countryside dominated by this lovely green color. Since this is a day in celebration of Patrick however, it would be rude not to recount at least briefly, his history. 


St. Patrick is actually quite curious as patron saints go, especially an Irish one. This is because he was not Irish, but was in fact British (not a favorite nationality on the Emerald Isle); and came to Ireland the first time as a captured slave of the Irish. He escaped that captivity after six years however and returned to his home in Britain, eventually becoming a deacon and later a bishop. He returned to Ireland as a missionary, working in the north and the west of the island. Little is actually known of the places that he worked, though there are many legends of the places that he stopped and the miracles performed. 


His mission was ultimately a successful one and the country remains largely a Catholic one. And while the diocesan model of the Catholic Church that he worked for did not come about as a result of his labors; he was nevertheless named the Patron Saint of Ireland by the eighth century. St. Patrick is also credited with chasing the snakes from Ireland, though this too is a myth, since the truth of the matter is that there never were snakes in Ireland. 


Regardless of the vague nature of his legend (a bit of Blarney perhaps) and the fact that he was never formally canonized by the Catholic Church, we celebrate him on March 17th, believed to be the day of his death. (All of this of course, being a suitable reason to go to the pub and have a pint or two by way of a belated Irish wake.)


As I have pointed out on previous occasions on this blog, March 17th is also the birthday of my youngest grandchild, Margaret Ruth Tipatina Demaria. "Maggie Moo Kropotnik" will in fact be turning four on this day of family celebration, and I understand that they will be once again holding parades in New York City (near where she lives) and in Chicago (where my own roots are) as a consequence. 


Now while I doubt that I will be lifting a glass of anything myself today, let me nevertheless offer an Irish toast to all of you on this day of days: 

May the road rise up to meet you 

May the wind be always at your back 

May the sun shine warm upon your face 

And the rain fall soft upon your fields 

And until we meet again 

May God hold you in the palm of His hand 

And may you live in peace and freedom 

As for those of you less lyrical (and more likely to drink green Anheuser-Busch or Miller products, perhaps I can offer this instead: 

May you be in heaven two hours before the devil knows you're dead

Slainte'