There was still some pep in his step as he did a little jump
and clicked his heels. He tipped his hat to passerby’s, humming a catchy tune
he just heard on the old juke box in his favorite pub. The streets of
the city were crowded a wee bit more than normal this day as was the custom on
St Paddy’s day. The whole city was Irish proudly displaying their green attire
and crazy buttons asking for a kiss. He himself dressed in Irish class with his
hounds’ tooth jacket, green neck scarf and a bowler a top his wisps of red
hair. His walking stick came from the old country by his great granddad who
proudly handed it down through the generations. The parade would be starting soon,
and he wanted a good viewing point, so he headed north on Main St until he reached
Paddy O’Leary’s pub and eatery. Oh, the smell of corn beef and cabbage filled
his nose and the clanking of glasses toasting the day with a pint or three. He wasn’t
sure at that moment how many St Paddy’s parades he had seen over the years but,
he knew it was at least seventy something. Like a kid he was as the bagpipes
played and candies were thrown into the crowd of waiting children. He was proud
to be an American but his love for Ireland was forever in his heart. He had his
corn beef and cabbage and a pint or three then slowly walked the fifteen blocks
home where he hung up his hounds tooth jacket and green scarf hopefully to be
worn yet another year. Settling into his favorite chair he put a record on the
old phonograph and listened until he fell asleep to the soothing sound of Danny
Boy.
Happy St Patrick’s day!
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