Happy St. Patrick's Day

I've never been one to 'imbibe'. Well, at least not in the traditional sense. Growing up, St. Patrick's Day was an excuse for my mother to leave me and my brother at home while she went out to her favorite local 'watering hole'. (We had a whole system worked out answering doors or telephones) Later on she would take us and i got to see what so many other people "saw" in the day. To be honest - i still don't "get it". Just like i don't "get" Mardi Gras. Over time though, i seem to have developed an appreciation for various cultural things that are from Ireland. I know that some of the things are probably commercialized and not true representations, but things like River Dance and the Irish Whistle captivate me. I really enjoy the rhythms of Celtic Music. I appreciate the art and symbolism incorporated into the Celtic Cross (just one example above). I am not Irish myself. I am an American mutt. I am part Native American, part English, part French, and who knows what else. Not enough of any one heritage to 'claim' as my own, but my beloved and her family are most definitely Irish, so we enjoy celebrating the day. Although there is not much known for certain concerning the man i took some time to research him on the internet. I will not go into detail, but he was thought highly enough of to be made a 'Saint' by the Catholic church. A funny story comes to mind - sort of related... When my mom passed away back in 2000 i spent a few weeks with my brother and his family. The second weekend i was there things were kind of wearing on both of our families. We were staying at his house, our mother's health, etc. was starting to take it's toll. I remembered that mom loved to go to Kevin Barry's Pub, and that we had all gone as a family the last time we were together and everyone was healthy. They served great food, and happened to have some great live music! We arranged for the kids to be watched while we all went out to eat and enjoy some music. My brother refrained from ordering beer because he thought we were "uptight" Christians. Well, eventually my beloved did order a Killian's Irish Red - her favorite. You would have thought that the flood gates were opened because my brother then began to order the same. Long story short, your author here was the designated driver and after enjoying a great meal, a full set of music, as well as who knows how many round we left. Now my brother lived on an Island in the middle of the Savannah River and the road was kind of 'twisty'. Not Alpine like, but you get the idea. Soon everyone was awake in the car (again), but the fog was thick and i was having trouble seeing where the driveway was. From the back seat i hear, "stop the car". I need to comment here that at that point in my life i had never experienced either the party scene of college nor the Army, so i did not understand the urgency. I was not parked, i was in the middle of a dark road on a foggy night. Not an ideal place to stop the car (despite the road being on a island of maybe 100 residents at 1:30 in the morning). Again, from the back seat, "stop the car". At this point my beloved bails out, opens the back door for my brother's wife, and flees to the side of the road. I think most, if not all, of my readers know what came next. My poor brother was not able to open the door or the window from the inside as they did not work for either door in the backseat. The poor guy was trapped. Fortunately, not five more meters up the road was the driveway. The next day my brother was shuffling around his house looking for his checkbook. I enjoyed telling him that i thought i saw it on the floor in the back of his car. Sick, i know. My beloved still enjoys telling that story. Despite how it ended that night is a very pleasant memory from an unhappy time in my life. Anyway... i am looking forward to my beloved's corn beef and cabbage dinner! My mouth actually just watered...