St Patrick’s Day
St Patrick’s Day is a religious holiday. It celebrates the life of Saint Patrick, who is credited with converting the bulk of Ireland to Christianity some time in the 400s AD. March 17th is believed to be the day the patron saint of Ireland died.
Before Saint Patrick began his holy crusade on the Emerald Isle, the denizens of the land were pagans, worshiping many gods. They loved their stories of Danu the Mother Goddess, Lugh of the Long Arm, their heroic son Cuchulainn, and the king of demon baddies Balor. The stories of Irish mythology are still sacred to the people of Ireland, but as literature now not religion.
Not since the Apostle of Ireland came and banished all the snakes. Not since the Patron Saint of the Emerald Isle placed his walking stick into the ground a grew a tree. Not since Saint Patrick made the leaves of the shamrock a symbol of the Holy Trinity. Not since then.
And here you thought today was all about green beer. 😉
I celebrated St Patrick’s Day last weekend, and will sit the night out. I have several reasons for doing so, that I will discuss eventually. For now, I want to talk more about the former than the latter.
Friends and I went to Reno for the Leprechaun Crawl, an annual event in the Biggest Little City. It includes thousands of emerald-clad revelers celebrating the conversion of Ireland to monotheism from polytheism in the 5th century.
Just kidding. It’s just to get drunk. None of us knew about the Christianity thing until about six paragraphs ago.
As I’ve mentioned before, we go to 2 or 3 of these Reno pub crawls a year. I’ve attended the Irish one more than any other (I believe this was my 4th). You don’t know fun until you’ve had 30 or 40 brightly-clad adults wandering the halls and streets of Reno, inebriated and making memories together. And we remember every damn moment, because we have pictures.
We have more than once been the cover photo advertisement for the next year’s event. Easy to see why. Go green or go home, I always say.
As for why I don’t plan to go out tonight, well … I did it pretty heavy last week for one; I’m good. The night of St Patty’s is always a terrible night to be out and about, anyway, even if you just want to have a green beer or two and safely make your way home. Plus, hey, I gotta work in the morning.
Also, I brought home a bug.
I tend to catch 1 or 2 cold bugs a year. This is my third one of this wintry season. Nothing too serious, mind you. These are the types that get in your head and make you feel bad enough to complain, but not bad enough to skip work.
This particular one is unusual. It started the second day back from Reno with a terrible sore throat in the morning. Like something lodged in it. I first thought I experienced some form of acid reflux in my sleep, but I don’t think that now. My throat has been sore for four days … REAL sore … but no other symptoms have emerged. Zero. No stuffed head. No cough. No fever. I can even swallow just fine. Just really, really sore.
Coffee helps to soothe it in the morning. Beer helps to soothe it at night.
I’m not a real smart sick guy.
But one unusual attribute of my recent viral bouts is I tend to catch them whenever I leave town. It appears I am completely immune to local pathogens but have zero resistance to those of other counties.
One friend told me that partying all night lowers my immune system for a time and thus allows bacterium to more easily take control. Apparently he thinks I party all night every time I leave town. Hmph. He’s no doctor or sociologist, what does he know? 😎
12 Years and Running, and 20 Years this Year
The rest of my time lately, when I’m not working or partying with pathogens, has been spent delving deep into the offseason of the Los Angeles Rams. I took a gig to write about them a while back and I try to publish one article a week about their progress. I’m a huge fan, as you know, of the game of football and of the Rams specifically. Studying the offseason is nothing new to me. Mock rosters and mock drafts are my passion, not my job. Especially the last twelve years.
Because for the last twelve years the Rams have been better in the offseason than during actual play.
It’s hard to love a team that breaks your heart every year. It’s hard to fall short of the playoffs a dozen consecutive times. I mean, that’s really hard to do when you think about it. No matter who you are if you went to a bar and randomly hit on 12 different women the law of averages says you’ll take at least one of them home, right? If you picked 12 fallen plums off the ground, at least one of them will be a good one, right? If I go out of town 12 times next year, at least one time I’ll come back without a virus, right?
Maybe not. I’m about as lucky as the Rams sometimes.
Luckily I don’t eat plums off the ground or pick up women. I got this gal.
20 years this summer. I’m the luckiest man alive.
Happy St Patty’s Day, everyone. Whether you’re in it for Jesus, in it for Dagda, or just in it for green beer, be safe, be happy, and be you.
You’re luckier than you think. ☘️