When I was growing up and well into my early twenties, we celebrated St. Patrick's Day in a way that would be wholly unrecognizable to what we see these days. In my day, the day was spent actually honoring St. Patrick and Ireland. There was a special mass, we said our prayers, we cooked a special meal, and then all of the men would meet down at the local watering hole and knock back a few while telling stories about our forefathers. We certainly didn't get sick on green beer and wear outrageous Irish t-shirts.
You know, they really snuck up on us with this whole "Saint Patrick's Day is a party day" thing. One year it's just me and the rest of the old fogies sitting around and having a few frothy beers while we do what we've always done. Maybe we notice a few new faces hanging around, but it's nothing drastic. Before you know it, the pub is swarming with kids in green Irish tees all throwing down shots of whiskey and acting crazy. I'm not really sure I can put a finger on when the change took place.
These young people would save themselves my surliness and stares on St. Patrick's Day if they would show even the slightest interest in learning more about Ireland and its grand history. We are a people who have been through so much strife that we certainly deserve to be honored on one night out of the whole year. If I want to drink at my favorite pub on St. Patrick's Day, I have to expect a raucous mob of 20-somethings wearing all manner of offensive Irish t-shirts.
What would really calm my nerves about the whole problem I have with what St. Patrick's has turned into, is if any of these youth would show even the slightest interest in learning something about Ireland or its people. Instead of showing even the tiniest bit of interest, they seem to look at the new incarnation of the holiday as just another reason the get drunk and flirt with each other. You don't need my holiday and you don't need offensive Irish t-shirts for that.
I can't help but come across as a grumpy old man who is mad at the world. I say what I mean, and I write what I know about. It needs to be mentioned that once I have had a few tall glasses of beer, the kids don't bother me quite so much. I probably should just get over the silly Irish clothes and get busy enjoying myself. Then again, maybe I should just show up to the bar drunk.
You know, they really snuck up on us with this whole "Saint Patrick's Day is a party day" thing. One year it's just me and the rest of the old fogies sitting around and having a few frothy beers while we do what we've always done. Maybe we notice a few new faces hanging around, but it's nothing drastic. Before you know it, the pub is swarming with kids in green Irish tees all throwing down shots of whiskey and acting crazy. I'm not really sure I can put a finger on when the change took place.
These young people would save themselves my surliness and stares on St. Patrick's Day if they would show even the slightest interest in learning more about Ireland and its grand history. We are a people who have been through so much strife that we certainly deserve to be honored on one night out of the whole year. If I want to drink at my favorite pub on St. Patrick's Day, I have to expect a raucous mob of 20-somethings wearing all manner of offensive Irish t-shirts.
What would really calm my nerves about the whole problem I have with what St. Patrick's has turned into, is if any of these youth would show even the slightest interest in learning something about Ireland or its people. Instead of showing even the tiniest bit of interest, they seem to look at the new incarnation of the holiday as just another reason the get drunk and flirt with each other. You don't need my holiday and you don't need offensive Irish t-shirts for that.
I can't help but come across as a grumpy old man who is mad at the world. I say what I mean, and I write what I know about. It needs to be mentioned that once I have had a few tall glasses of beer, the kids don't bother me quite so much. I probably should just get over the silly Irish clothes and get busy enjoying myself. Then again, maybe I should just show up to the bar drunk.
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