This is what the sign read that we nailed to a pair of trees, one on each side of a main street in a sizeable Ontario town (good old Brantford). We had to have two signs, just so we could get traffic going both ways. We then, as a team, carried two couches outside and deposited them on our front lawn. Windows open, Celtic flavoured tunes blasting; we deposited our collective self on said couches and settled in for St Patrick’s Day, 2007.
What is it about St Patrick’s Day that gives everyone license to do such ridiculous things? Certainly in a college setting, silly games such as the one that my roommates and I played that day can be, if not common, at least unremarkable. So it wasn’t necessarily the game itself that led me to scratch my head in wonder, but rather, the reactions we got.
‘Oh hey, what a great St Paddy’s day game!’ said a young, smiling woman walking by, presumably on her way to work.
‘I remember when we used to do things like that on St Patrick’s Day! Good on you boys!’ said an old man as he walked by with his wife, who seemed to be smiling as well, if a bit sheepishly.
Not to mention the dozens of people who slammed on their horns for us. We had one mother/daughter tandem which went around the block about four times within the space of twenty minutes, just so they could honk again and again, laughing all the while. We got compliments from our neighbours on our green get-ups and our raucous music. And this was all before noon!
As a celebration held close to the Ides of March, St Patrick’s Day can mean many things to many people. Certainly, to most it is a party. I’ve personally spent St Patrick’s Day in several different locations, including Toronto, Halifax and Vienna, Austria. Everywhere the theme seems to be the same. Young people don their green attire and go out to get absolutely sloshed for the day. This is, theoretically, a celebration of St Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland. It is a national holiday there and the celebrating generally lasts an entire weekend, as opposed to just the one day. But how did it get so popular here? At first glance, it almost seems like the equivalent of Ireland celebrating Canada Day or something equally inapplicable.
However, then you remember how young we truly are as a nation. While visiting Ireland this past summer, I learned that the city of Cork is over 800 years old! And Ireland has been celebrating a version of its holiday for at least that long (although it was originally much more religious in connotation. In fact, in Ireland, it is still an important day of worship for Roman Catholics). The point is that North America is a melting pot of cultures and traditions. Due to the potato famine, among other things, one of the largest groups to settle here, initially, was the Irish. Of course they were going to bring their own traditions and because they were one of the first groups of settlers, of course those traditions were going to catch on. In places like Montreal, there was a St Patrick’s Day parade as early as 1824, more than forty years before Canada even officially came into being. In places like Boston and Chicago, they actually dye the major rivers that run through the respective cities a bright green, in honour of the day. It is a staple of North American culture, borne from one of the seeds that spawned our culture.
Personally, I think St Patrick’s Day is special for another reason, especially in North America. As the old saying goes, on St Patrick’s Day ‘everybody is Irish’. Everybody seems to embrace this philosophy without remorse or hesitation. Except for Halloween (conveniently located about 6 months away), St Patrick’s Day is the one day a year where everyone can take an arbitrary day, become equal and celebrate that equality, whether it be via partying or any other means. Barriers crumble and everyone celebrates simply for the sake of celebrating, on equal ground and with equal reason. No matter what ridiculousness is conceived of or practiced (our game for example), everyone is in a good mood and everyone feels connected, as is often not the case in a country with such a variety of cultures. It is a day for forging bonds and celebrating that this is our tradition now, wherever it came from.
As I walked out of the bar this St Patrick’s Day, I tried to squeeze past a guy a bit smaller than me (which is not hard, as I am a large man). We accidentally bumped into one another and he immediately sized me up. After taking in my bright red beard he grinned and, in a heavy Irish accent said ‘Irishman are ya? Where do ya hail from?’ ‘Donegal’, I replied, ‘in the north of the republic, right on the border’. He scratched his chin and looked at me again, serious now. “Well I’m from Belfast. I bet our families were at odds at one point fella’. He then looked at me again and smiled. ‘Happy St Paddy’s brother’ as he shook my hand, pulled me in and planted a brotherly smooch on my cheek. He winked and walked back into the bar. Then, shaking my head and laughing, I turned and walked home.
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