Today is Saint Patrick’s Day; the one day of the year where everyone is Irish, and everyone is a lousy stinkin’ drunk. It’s the day my liver used to dread, but now sadly sits around bored all evening looking for something to do.
While I have some Irish roots – I’m one of a very select few (billion) Irish-Americans – I do my best to ignore them. I don’t have anything against people with Irish roots, but I just choose to divorce myself from mine. I’d party down on Our Mother of Sorrows Day, but Slovaks don’t really have a feast day in America. We’re deprived, but at least we don’t have to chow down on ham and cabbage.
Any hoo, enjoy your day, cheer of Notre Dame, and sign Danny Boy to your heart’s content. If you’re out and about tonight, and you have a few – dozen – adult beverages, please make sure someone is the designated driver.
There are other important events and milestones today – at least for me. They’re below the fold.
Today would have been my maternal grandfather’s 104th birthday. Joseph Remar was the kindest, most decent person I have ever known. He taught me baseball, taught me how to hunt, and in short, taught me how to be a better human being. Pop Pop was and is my most cherished hero, and his passing was the worst day of my life.
I am an imperfect person, but I try to remind myself to act in a way which would make my grandfather proud.
Last, but definitely not least, Only Son, a book I co-authored, was published four years ago today. I figured it was worth a re-plug, in case anyone new to the blog was interested in giving it a read. You can find it on Amazon by clicking here.