I received two mass text messages yesterday wishing me a “Happy St. Patrick’s Day.” I barely get that many texts on my birthday.
My point?
Call me a party pooper or a curmudgeon, but those mass texts crystallized for me the fact that St. Patrick’s Day has entered the “Overly hyped quasi-holiday” realm. Valentine’s Day now has company.
Did I have a few Guinesses in honor of my Great Grandmother Ryan, who hailed from Cork, Ireland? You betcha.
But I feel as though the whole month of March has been colored green. In Ireland, March 17 is actually a holy day of obligation, meaning Catholics are strongly encouraged to attend church. I doubt that they’re swigging green Bud Light in the pews.
Meanwhile, people on this side of the pond do it a little differently. I saw a few people at the local Irish pub last night wearing a shirt saying, “Drink until you’re Irish.” That’s one way to pay homage.
Will the Irish-for-a-day-craze ever die down? Not a chance. And if I were Hallmark or a beer company, I’d milk March 17 for all it’s worth, too. It’s the capitalistic way.
But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
After 21 years of following a script, the post-college world means living each step not knowing what the next one will be. This is one man's trek through the uncertainty...
Thursday, March 18, 2010
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