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Beannachtai na Feile Padraig!

By S.K. Bardwell
Posted Monday, March 16, 2009

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Here we are halfway through March already—the Ides was Sunday.

An educational Ides aside: Although now we refer to the 15th as the Ides of March, it wasn’t always. The Roman calendar was a lunar calendar, and each moon cycle, or month, had three important parts: the Calends, or start of the new moon cycle, marked the first of the month; the Ides, or full moon, marked the middle of the month; and the Nones, or halfway point, came between the Calends and Ides, natch.

I can’t find any lunar terms for the last half of the Roman month. Maybe they just called it the last half of the month. In Latin, it would sound way more important.

Anyway, Romans used those terms each lunar cycle, or month, the way we’d say “next Tuesday.” Until 44 BC, when Julius Caesar’s assassination made Roman headlines. After that, when they referred to “The Ides,” they were usually talking about the day Caesar was killed. Sort of like when we say “9/11,” we’re talking about what happened that day in 2001.

OK, I’m done.

Proceeding with March: Tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day. It isn’t one of my favorite holidays, despite some Irish in my ancestry.

In school and other places where juvenile behavior abounds (several newspapers I’ve worked for spring to mind), there’s a myth that you can be pinched if you’re not wearing green. As a reporter I struggled to modernize the tradition: If you pinch me, I get to punch your face, stomp your instep, and call you many truly inventive names.

The stupid pinching tradition may be why St. Patrick’s isn’t one of my favorite holidays. Or it could be because there’s no candy associated with it, and I drink maybe two beers a year, not at the same time, and never green.

If you’re of a similar mind and still want to observe the holiday, you can go buy a bag of Easter jellybeans and pick all the pastel green ones out and eat them in honor of St. Paddy. There are green Peeps® too, if you’re more of a marshmallow person.

The big, elaborate St. Patrick’s celebrations with parades and bagpipes and kilts are mainly on the East Coast. In Houston, they will die the bayou a livid green that is only slightly more off-putting than its normal murky green; but the day will mostly be celebrated in bars. It doesn’t have to be one of those pub-like places, either. I’ve seen cantinas advertising St. Patrick’s Day specials in Spanish.

Another aside here: An Irish friend used to complain of the Irish stereotypes perpetuated here – he was especially bitter about Mickey Mouse, but that’s another story. He hit the pubs on St. Patrick’s Day just the same, to sit with his pint of Guiness and make fun of all the less Irish swilling their green Miller Lite.

Later, all the young Irish-for-a-day will continue their celebration with the eating of green boiled or pickled eggs, green Jell-O® shots, or more traditional fare like corned beef and cabbage or shepherd’s pie.

The big day ends in the traditional Hurlin’ O’ the Green Chunks.

I think I’ll just wait for Friday, and celebrate the vernal equinox in the back yard, where the fruit trees and flowers haven’t been waiting around for the calendar to tell them it’s spring.

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