I didn’t wear any green today. And, really, doing so didn’t even cross my mind.
Putting on my UK T-shirt did make me happy this morning for two reasons: The opening day of the NCAA Tournament is like a holiday at my house and sunshine and 70-degree temperatures were in the forecast.
So happy day to me.
It’s nothing against St. Patrick himself that makes me not care about the anniversary of his death. Not even of Irish descent, St. Patrick was kidnapped when he 16 years old and lived as a slave in Ireland for six years. After he escaped, he studied to become a priest in his native Britain. He went back — by choice this time — to Ireland, where he spend more than three decades as missionary. The clovers are symbolic of his life because he used them to teach about the Trinity.
Sounds like a well-lived life to me.
But I don’t understand how green beer and pinching people who don’t wear green fit into his legacy. Maybe there are reasons; I just don’t know them. And that makes me not care about the so-called holiday.
I even have Irish roots. My maternal grandpa — John Lucas McAdam — is have Irish, courtesy his Irish father who married a Scottish woman. They immigrated to the United States when my grandpa — known as Poppy — was about 3 so his dad could work for the railroad. These roots make me thankful for the journeys God takes us on.
And that is something to celebrate. Today. And any other day.
So, for now, back to watching basketball …