The day of Green was kind of blue...

Thursday, March 17, 2011
I didn’t do anything on St. Pat’s and since my cousin Donnie was in town, I’d like to blame it on him. We started the day with a breakfast at Kliefeld’s where I had an order of pancakes, which I smothered in butter and fake syrup (real maple syrup was not an option). I gave some thought to taking a trip downtown so we could get the best corned beef in Cleveland at Slyman’s, but figured they’d be slammed with fake Irish people. I can say that because I’m real Irish…sort of.

My mom was a fifty percenter by way of her mom…Helen O’Brien (she’s my grandma that will be celebrating her 106th birthday this June). Anyway, my mom wore her Irish well all year, but went a little goofy on St. Patrick’s Day, making everything we put in our mouths green. I thought it was pretty cool, but it freaked Holly out the first time she came to our house on March 17th and she’s still getting therapy from the damage it caused.

I also spent 18 St. Patrick’s Days helping to play host to Cleveland biggest and oldest celebration at the Cleveland Athletic Club. Work a couple of those parties with the drunken Irish and you qualify to say anything you want to. Donnie has the same Irish genes, but doesn’t really get into it, so I didn’t think it was worth the trouble to go downtown and fight the crowd. Besides, we were planning on going to the Perry Am Vets who were doing a dinner in my brother Jim’s honor later that night and we’d get our corned beef then.

I work with people who are often times suffering with Clinical Depression and understand something of its debilitating nature. I seemed to spend this St. Patrick’s Day trying to put myself there. Donnie and I have been best friends almost from birth. I’m nine months older, so we grew up together…whenever the cousins got together. We lived together for a while after high school and have so many shared memories…particularly of those closest to us that have died. His dad…my special uncle, my dad and mom…his aunt and uncle, grandfather, his sister, and of course…my brother Jim. It’s hard for us to get together and not talk about these people and the great memories we have of them, but to lament…in some cases…why they went so soon. We visited my parents’ cemetery site over the course of the day and finished with dinner at the Am Vets, which we both agreed was a rather depressing affair.

What I really needed was a good work out, but never found the time. I probably could have used a drink and I likely was the only person of Irish heritage in a bar that day that didn’t have one. Oh well…and Jim and mom…these next lines are for you.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.