It's Not Easy Being Green

When I used to work for a large, venerable accounting/consulting firm in the eary 90's, I had a friend/co-worker, WW, with whom I used to hang out on weekends and do random stuff like go to bar crawls and clubs. He was 6-6, blond and from Iowa, and we were quite an odd pair of friends. Nothing romantic, just liked hanging out. He was like a big brother and I was like a little sister . . .

Anyway, WW had a group of friends in his apartment complex that he liked to hang out with too. They were all on a rec league volleyball team together and eventually the group all paired off and got married, including WW . . .

But before the pairing, WW always considered St. Patrick's Day to be a personal holiday. He would always take the day off work, and he and his friends would meet downtown at 11 am and start their own personal bar crawl from one Irish bar to another, eventually ending up in Old Town at Murphy's or Ireland's Own. Every year for the 4 years I knew him he did this . . .

One year I decided to meet up with him and his crew after work, meeting them all at 5:30 in Old Town . . .

Now, I'm not a big drinker - I just like hanging out and talking with folks and listening, so I'd usually order a coke, or if I'm very enterprising I'll have a cider or two, or nurse a Guinness through the evening, with a glass of water. I've never been one to get drunk, especially after walking many of my friends home and watching them puke in various places - never seemed inviting to me . . . I wonder why . . .

Anyway, I get to the pub and it is packed - line out the door - but WW told me where to walk to around back that would allow me to get inside . . .

Do you remember what keg parties smelled like at the end of the night, and the way everyone looked and acted? The sort of widespread drunken stupor, the forced hilarity, the pervasive damp, yeasty smell? That's what I walked into. Not everyone in the place was like that, but a good portion were . . . and especially WW and his group of friends . . .

It really wasn't very fun to be there. They were all three sheets to the wind, and had been for a while. They all had these inside jokes from whatever other escapades went on that day, which actually didn't sound quite as funny as they tried to convey. My friend was pretty much incoherent. I didn't stay very long . . . I normally don't like small crowded spaces, and this was way too many people for me . . . and I was kind of wondering what I was doing there . . . so I tottled off and went home . . .

So when people talk about celebrating St. Patrick's Day, I always think of my drunk, smelly friends, crammed into a bar and getting various beverages spilled on me . . . I'm all for wearing the green, but not for much else about the day . . .

. . . There is one other connotation for St. Patrick's Day that makes it a rather bittersweet day for me . . .

On St. Patrick's Day 1987, two things happened almost simultaneously: I got my acceptance letter into the college I really wanted to go to . . . and I found out that my favorite Grandpa died. . . .

I had just talked to him on the phone a week or so before, and made him promise that he would come to my high school graduation. I think at that time he knew he was dying, but he didn't want me to know. I will always remember, after the fact, the pause he gave before he said yes . . . that should have been a hint, but I wasn't looking for it . . . I wanted him to be proud of me . . . he had always encouraged me so much and always took the time to talk with me. Even after we moved away from Philly, we still felt rather close . . .

So here was what should have been one of my happiest days, mitigated by losing one of the people that I loved most in the whole wide world . . .

. . . I don't know how to end this post actually. Is it a lesson in taking the bad with the good? Am I trying to say that St. Patrick's Day is ultimately a real downer in my book?

. . . All I know is that, as I still struggle with transitioning into my promotion and dealing with life in general . . .

. . . I'm hoping that my Grandpa is looking down and being proud of me. And knowing that especially on St. Patrick's Day, I think of his jolly soul and wear green to also celebrate his spirit . . .

. . . And with that in mind, it gets easier to wear green every year . . .