In years past I celebrated St. Patrick’s Day as vigorously as anyone, but not out of deference to my friends who happened to be Irish. It didn’t matter to me that I was of Italian-French-Austrian-German lineage; in fact, I participated in the day because my own background had nothing close to this kind of historically significant day that was also the best reason in the world to have a party.
A dear old friend from Ireland (who has since passed away) once told me, “St. Patrick’s Day is like New Year’s Eve, Halloween, and your birthday all at one time.” At least from the years spent here in New York City on this day, I know that is an accurate assessment. It is the only day I know when the streets of New York are filled with genuinely happy faces (some happier than others based on what they have imbibed) and good cheer. The green line painted down Fifth Avenue is sort of like an Irish spine connecting the city to something greater than itself, an intangible reminder that on this day everyone can be Irish and enjoy the best blarney of his or her life.
When I was in grammar school, the Irish girls used to come into class on this day with shamrocks glistening on their cheeks and green eye shadow. Some dyed their blonde and red hair green; others wore green clothing and hats. The boys were a bit more conservative in their dress (though I can remember one young fellow who ate a green bagel and thus had green teeth all day) but still ready for a party. This was the time I first became intrigued by St. Patty’s Day because the girls were sexier (like being dressed in a devil’s costume on Halloween) and the boys were just having a good time.
By the time I got to high school, St. Patrick’s Day was reserved for “cutting” classes, jumping on the subway, and heading over to Manhattan for the festivities. In my memory, St. Patrick’s Days past were always bitterly cold days, usually with a piercing wind, and the sight of the girls marching in the parade in their little sparkling green outfits was always exciting. Their batons glistened in the air as they tossed them to the drumbeat that was like the heart of Ireland itself warming the wintry city all day long.
Article comments
1 - Elvira Black
Nice memories, Victor; I think the parade is a lot tamer than it was of old because nowadays in NYC if you get caught with an open container you get a ticket. Even New Year's Eve in Times Square is a sober affair nowadays. NYC is just not as wild as it once was!
2 - Victor Lana
Thanks for the comment, Elvira. I agree that everything seems to be calmer and quieter in NYC these days. You're right about the Times Square on New Year's Eve situation too. If my 18 year old self could be plunked down in the middle of the current NYC I think I would horrified to see what happened to my city.
Well, those days live on in memory if nothing else.
3 - diana hartman
always a great read victor...
i've never been to nyc for st paddy's day but have always wanted to go...my hometown of wichita does up a fine and worthy parade; and as i read through your story, i realized i've been missing this special part of home for all the time i've been gone...
i've only this morning come back from a week's trip to ireland for the big day...it wasn't what i thought it would be, and it was much more of what i never knew...
as one of irish descent, it was like being home at a family reunion where i knew no one -- and yet so many looked like me and members of my family...
that drumbeat though, it seemed to get to everyone, no matter who they were or where they were from...
the funniest and most heartwarming part of our trip was that our hostel manager, italian and dressed as a leprechaun, taught my children several traditional irish dances -- and they were a hit participating with the different peoples in the parade...it was so cold that day, and i've never felt warmer...
4 - Victor Lana
...it was so cold that day, and i've never felt warmer...
Diana, that about sums up all my St. Patrick's Days in NYC. And that drumbeat goes on and on and on...