St Patrick's Day
I never really paid any attention to the day of the saint. Protestants are so boring sometimes. I guess with a name that comes out of the mists of the Hebrides my family had better things to do that to drink green beer. We’re snobs. Besides, this guy was responsible for kicking the Celtic kings out of the western annex of Scotland that is Ireland. The kings carried dragons, tattooed up their arms and legs. Patrick was a tough guy and he knew that unless he could get rid of these pesky Celts, Christianity would be wrestling with the Druids. Time for a coup. It got translated into pushing the snakes out of Ireland. That’s the legendary version.

Anyway, my first church was in Irvington, that bastion of Irish tradition. Well, in 1975 the Irish mob still ran a lot of the area. There was a parade to celebrate the wearing of the green. It went by my house. Late on the 16th, some of the faithful would follow the parade route and put a stripe down the middle of the street, a bright green stripe. I guess it helped the paradees not make any wrong turns.

After watching this whole production an adolescent dragon, a wee beastie whispered in my ear “Mee boy, therr be a way to scatter dismay and consternation among these upstarts. This Patrrick be celebrated by all an’ none stand for the serpents. Justice! (that’s the way Celtic dragons talk). “

So late on the next March 16th, after the semi drunk crew had left green proof behind them down the middle of my street, I ventured forth in the wee hours of the morning, armed with two cans of orange spray paint. I confess I was not wearing a kilt. But my spirit was. The orange stripe began a block beyond Donovan’s Pub, the place where the parade began and where the faithful got tanked up before staggering forth. It ran parallel to the green, coexisting for fifty yards, and then with glee, as much glee as an orange stripe can exhibit, tangled and superimposed itself upon the green. The paint ran out a bit beyond my house. No sense leaving too much proof from whom the blessing of the orange had come.

The next day I sat on my stoop, early. I heard the first whoops of consternation an hour before the parade. Ahh, it was better than the pipes upon the moors. Being the day to party, they were not ready to repel such an assault. Besides, the time for the parade’s beginning came upon them, leaving them no choice but to go on with the show.

On that day the sons of Erin followed and orange stripe for half their jaunt. They scowled. It was beautiful. I could hear the beastie chuckling at them.

They posted guards the next year. Dragons must be reckoned with.