Erin go bragh!

St. Patrick’s Day. Far removed from the original in Ireland; far removed from  it’s original form.  But then again, so is Christmas.

When people think of St. Pattie’s Day, they think of drunken revelers starting at 6 a.m. and passing out by 3 p.m. Heck — that happens in my college town every year. It means corned beef and cabbage, potatoes, and — yes — green beer.

Since most of those foods weren’t even around back in St. Pattie’s day, let’s just take a moment to see what that phrase means. Erin go bragh. Ireland Forever.

There’s something sentimental about ‘ol Ireland; the green hills, the Gaelic charm. The lullabies and the Irish sayings. They all seem to hone in to the heart on March 17th more than other days of the year.

I am one-fourth Irish, and although I don’t fall down drunk on Green Beer, I do enjoy Reubens and Reuben Wraps and beer — green or not. My mother was Irish, and what a little firecracker she was. I’m sad I never took the time to get to know her heritage better. Heck — I’m sorry I didn’t get to know HER better. She was taken at 54, and I always wonder what life would have been like if she had seen her grandkids.

The Irish have had their sad side, too. The immigrants, the stereotyping. It happens to any race that is a minority. Fortunately, the Irish have moved from cursed to revered. So should it be for all races.

So on this Great Irish Day, raise a glass/mug of beer/soda/milk, and toast the freedom that was brought to us by the Irish. And the Polish. And the French. And the Chinese. And the Germans. And the Swedes. And the Hungarians. And the Japanese. And the Russians. And the Africans.

But instead of shouting “Erin go Bragh”, let’s shout something more meaningful.

Stáit Aontaithe Mheiriceá go brách.

United States Forever.