It's amazing how some can justify drinking, carousing, wearing green, and all forms of sinful and non-sinful fun in the name of St. Patrick. I'm still trying to figure out some of the customs of my (partial) ancestral homeland.
I don't care for corned beef and cabbage. I still go to Mass each weekend (even though most of the Irish branches of my family tree were Protestant when they arrived on this continent). I gave up drinking 13 years ago. And in some ways, going to these parades is depressing, since none of my friends in this area are of Irish ancestry (or willing to be anywhere near one of these things). At 40 (in 2 months), I may be too old to do the partying. Indeed, most of the parade goers I saw at today's parade are young enough to be my children. After about 2 hours at the parade (plus an hour getting lost in Central Park trying to avoid the crowds), I headed back towards the western side of Midtown. Eirinn go brach, indeed, when I'm not slainte, or not having go n-eiri an t-adh leat.
Maybe I should brush up more on my gaelic if my sister really does get tickets to go to Ireland later this year.
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