I’ve marked a St. Patrick’s Day ritual of some shape or form for 16 years, and this is how we mark it in Seattle.
“It’s just another Monday, right?” That’s how the guy at Market House Meats laughed off how busy it was when I was straining to hear my name being called out.
The scene today was straight out of a movie, complete with a couple of New Yorkers trying to figure out how to order in that loud New Yorker way. There was a padre there and a cadre of cops too; a construction worker and a plumber, but no one in a war bonnet — that song’s toxic now, anyhow.
It made me smile.
Lá Fhéile Pádraig sona duit.
Everyone’s a little Irish on St Patrick’s Day, just like everyone’s a little Lebanese when the bombs start to fall and everyone’s little Palestinian until liberation.
A comradely salute to all who stand as comrades.