What Does Saint Patricks Day Mean to Me? Fun Times with Friends and Family!

Back when my grandmother was alive Saint Patrick's day was very special for her. The reason she loved this holiday more than others was deeply rooted in a predominantly Irish Catholic upbringing. She would dress up all in green and even wore makeup with green eyeshadow, and shamrock earrings.

Her favorite place to stop for the traditional meal of corned beef and cabbage was the Irish American Club on Lakeshore Boulevard in Euclid Ohio. We would spend many hours there getting toasted and laughing with her annual best friends. It was one of those holidays that she and my grandfather thoroughly enjoyed together.

Of course there were years in between when my grandmother would be out of town visiting other relatives and I would hear stories of what a grand old time they had taking Helen out for her favorite holiday. What I remember most was the incredible smile she would have on here face the entire day, which was sort of rare for grams since she had lived through quite a lot in her days here on earth.

Her sadness ran deep as she by that time had lost two of her children, and her husband, plus two other sons were gone off the deep end, one from his time in Viet Nam, and the drugs he swallowed for years after, and the other to drug abuse initiated after he saw his father sick by the roadside and he went ahead home as my grandfather told him to, only to find later that his dad had died shortly after he left him.

So most days grams was at best melancholy, even the times she felt good like when we played scrabble, she still carried that deep sadness. But come Saint Patrick's day she was literally beaming from the minute she woke up until she lay down at night. This was truly an amazing transformation, and nothing could get her down on that special day.

My earliest memory of grams enjoying Saint Patrick's day was when I was about twelve years old, and she was trying with great effort to get my grandfather to take us all into Cleveland to watch the big Saint Patrick's day parade. Well he had a bad week at work, and was having none of it. So my grams being the strong willed and determined Irish woman that she was would not take no for an answer, and since she did not drive she went door to door asking her neighbors to drive us into Cleveland to see that parade.

The other kids at the house were all my uncles who were only about a year or two older than me, and they pretty much had no interest in going. So it ended up being me and gram, plus the neighbor lady and her daughter in a ratty old rambler headed into Cleveland to see that darn parade. It was cold and wet, and the lady got lost, we ended up on the wrong side of town and my gram was really mad at this sweet neighbor lady, but then she stopped at a gas station for directions, and it turned out we were only a few blocks away. So she parked and we all walked into the wind and found a place to watch this silly little parade, and I remember the smile on my grams face, wearing her "Erin go Bragh" sweatshirt and her green knit cap with the shamrock on it. After that debacle my grandfather never let her go to the parade or the Irish American club again without him.

Many years later she came to live in our area again after my grandfather had passed away and while she was working as a live in nurse for an elderly couple I would visit her to take her out to have coffee and pie at her favorite place, and then we would play a few games of scrabble. She would regale me with stories of her life with my grandfather who I truly idolized. She would tell me stories about his crazy inventions, and all his other passions, and about their mutual love of all things Irish. She would tell me stories of how they met in New York, and how he brought her to Ohio for work. That was when they found the Irish American club in Cleveland. It was her favorite spot to celebrate Saint Patrick's day for the rest of her life.

Of course when she moved away I carried on the tradition for a while without her, but it was just never the same. I ended up finding my own favorite pubs to visit on that particular holiday. It seems there were always quite a few Irish pubs to visit and some of my favorites held extravagant Saint Patrick's day parties. The one place I recall with great clarity was called Muldoons, and they seemed to celebrate Saint Patrick's day every single day of the year. I am certain that my grandmother would have enjoyed their Saint Patrick's day parties with great enthusiasm.

Then there was that one Saint Patrick's day at Muldoons when we met a guy who swore he was Jesus! Said his motorcycle had broken down and he walked two miles in the rain to this pub yet his hair and clothes were dry. To this day we laugh about the day we met Jesus. I never could reconcile why Jesus would ride a broken down old motorcycle, and even more curious, how was it possible that he could not fix it? I have come to the conclusion that you sure do meet some strange people when you are celebrating Saint Patrick's day!

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