Everyone seems to be Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. Especially here in Chicago where we dye the very rivers green. I think that all the posturing is remarkably apposite: St. Patrick himself was not Irish—he was a Scot and a Roman citizen. Only two of his writings have come down to us: his Confessions and a letter to Coroticus. There’s also a prayer (sometimes referred to as the “Shield of St. Patrick”) that’s attributed to him:
Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me;
Christ to comfort and restore me;
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
I think it’s one of the most beautiful Christian prayers—right up there with the Lord’s Prayer and the Prayer of St. Francis. Maybe I’m prejudiced.
I am part Irish. I don’t honestly know how much. I’m at least one quarter Irish and possibly as much as three eighths. My father wasn’t Irish at all (a fact of which he was inordinately proud). Mostly Swiss, German, and French. Both of my mother’s grandmothers were 100% Irish. It’s possible that my mom’s father was 100% Irish. We just don’t know right now—the Blanchards were here in the very early 19th century and of unknown provenance and antecedents. Maybe I’ll figure it out someday. I doubt it.
But since her family is so Irish and a show biz family to boot everybody could and did put on a passable brogue. We all can.
In Ireland St. Patrick’s Day is a holy day—a religious feast. In the United States it’s basically a secular holiday. In Chicago, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, it’s one of the big ethnic holidays: St. Patrick’s Day (Irish), Martin Luther King’s Birthday (African-American), Columbus Day (Italian), Pulaski Day (Polish). The customs and symbols we associate with St. Patrick’s Day are a mixed bag. Wearing green is republican, corned beef and cabbage are Irish-American (Irish corned beef was an export-only commodity), leprechauns are pagan. Only the shamrock is religious. Sort of.
So there’ll be no green at The Glittering Eye on St. Patrick’s Day. I’ll remember him with the Shield of St. Patrick. Although I must admit I corned a beef roast for tonight’s dinner and we’ll probably watch The Quiet Man.
