What could be more Irish than memories of St Patrick’s Day in Ireland? Picture it: County Limerick, March 17. Sunlight illuminates my boarding school overlooking the banks of the River Shannon. Such cultural authenticity! We’ve the day off from classes. Cue the festivities!

The Dripping of the Green

Ah, but this is 1970s Ireland. St Patrick’s Day is a holy day, not yet a holiday. To “celebrate,” we each pin a clump of sodden shamrocks to the front of our school uniform. At Mass, I watch in dismal fascination as brackish liquid oozes along the wool grain of my personal upholstery.

My classmate Eileen sighs, “If only we were in Dublin gawking at the Americans.”

“Ah sure, nobody celebrates St Patrick’s Day like the Yanks. They do go mad for it.”

The Wearing of . . . Whatever

Picture it: St Patrick’s Day, 1980-something, California. As I enter the office, our receptionist looks up. An expectant smile lights up Barb’s face. It dims when I remove my coat to reveal a black ensemble.

“Shoot,” says Barb. “I thought you’d be wearing your national costume.”

Gently, I break it to Barb that people in Ireland do not wear national costumes.

Festivity to “Dye” For

Until recently, the way Ireland and the U.S. celebrated St Patrick’s Day was markedly different.

St Patrick’s Day American-style was an all-day Lucky Charms commercial. Suddenly the air was thick with “Sure ‘n begorrah!” and “Erin go bragh!”—words never uttered in Ireland.

Nationwide, green snack foods proliferated in breakrooms. Green bagels, green cupcakes, green cookies. If you didn’t wear green, people would pinch you. Green socks, green sunglasses, green badges emblazoned “Kiss me! I’m Irish!”

Joyce McGreevy, Cultural Policewoman

Raised in two cultures and the mother of an Irish-born son, you’d think I’d have relished any chance to celebrate my heritage.

In those days, the most Irish thing about me was my curmudgeonly attitude, my utter refusal to abide “such nonsensical carry-on.” No, I would NOT like a Shamrock Shake. No, I would NOT like to put on a plastic green leprechaun hat. No, I would NOT care for corned beef and cabbage. None of these things pertained to the Real Ireland.

So fierce was my commitment to cultural authenticity, that in contrast to all the green, my St Patrick’s Day face was forty shades of red.

As self-appointed cultural firebrand, I made it my mission to douse any outbreaks of fun with the cold water of clarity. Did people not know that St Patrick was born in France? That he came to Ireland because he was kidnapped by pirates?

Snakes on a Plain

As for Himself “drrriving the snakes out of Oyrland,” honestly! Beautiful as Ireland is, would any self-respecting reptile choose to live in a cool, rainy climate? Those “snakes” were actually eels found in pre-Christian sacred wells. Patrick didn’t drive them anywhere. He simply blessed the wells while doing his bit to spread European culture.

Indeed, Palladius of Anatolia likely arrived before Patrick, having been sent by Pope Celestine in 432. Yes, the first bishop of Ireland was Turkish, yet does anyone throw poor old Palladius a parade?

My smoldering umbrage was not without fuel. Back then, we were all less savvy about each other’s cultures. As late as the 1990s, I was still fielding such questions as: “Does Ireland have electricity?” “Do people there just eat potatoes?” And my personal favorite: “Do people talk normal there—you know, do they say stuff like awesome and cowabunga”?

By the 2000s, the Internet and affordable travel were replacing stereotypes with cultural authenticity. We could see more clearly a culture’s everyday realities and thus appreciate it more.

Real Ireland, Revisited

Picture it: Galway, Ireland 2013. My college friend Brendan invites me to the St Patrick’s Day parade. This, I trust, will reflect the Real Ireland.

Yes, there are traditional Irish dancers and musicians. And floats commemorating Irish history. But there is also a diversity of cultures, immigrants from all over the world who have made their home in this “Ireland of the Welcomes.” As parade groups are announced, they present performances that artfully combine Irish elements with elements of their origin cultures.

In movement, music, costumes, colors, voices, and vibe, a magnificent chorus of cultures creates a mood that ripples through the crowd.

It is joy. The joy unique to something we all deeply miss these days: community. Not as a concept, but felt, lived, shared.

Oh, I see: In 21st century Ireland, there’s room for silliness along with solemnity. For pride with a dash of self-parody. For transcending stereotypes by sharing a laugh at them.

So, here’s to new memories. Picture it: St Patrick’s Day 2021, everywhere if not in Ireland. Instead, on Zoom with family, friends, and neighbors around the world. Ditching my narrow notion of cultural authenticity as we celebrate the many meanings of “Real Ireland.”

Tourism Ireland invites you to virtually visit Ireland this Wednesday, March 17. Join #StPatricksDayAtHome, here.

Comment on the post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

$\"Ireland\u2019s$

Before the pandemic, March was a popular time for travel to Ireland . . .
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n

How Real Was My Cultural Authenticity?<\/h2>\n
What could be more Irish than memories of St Patrick\u2019s Day in Ireland? Picture it: County Limerick, March 17. Sunlight illuminates my boarding school overlooking the banks of the River Shannon. Such cultural authenticity! We\u2019ve the day off from classes. Cue the festivities!<\/p>\n

The Dripping of the Green<\/strong><\/h4>\n
Ah, but this is 1970s Ireland. St Patrick\u2019s Day is a holy<\/em> day, not yet a holiday. To \u201ccelebrate,\u201d we each pin a clump of sodden shamrocks to the front of our school uniform. At Mass, I watch in dismal fascination as brackish liquid oozes along the wool grain of my personal upholstery.<\/p>\n
Not how I\u2019d imagined \u201cthe wearing of the green.\u201d<\/p>\n
My classmate Eileen sighs, \u201cIf only we were in Dublin gawking at the Americans.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy Americans?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n
\u201cAh sure, nobody celebrates St Patrick\u2019s Day like the Yanks. They do go mad for it.\u201d<\/p>\n
$\"Ireland\u2019s$
. . . but late spring in Ireland is lovely, too.
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
The Wearing of . . . Whatever<\/strong><\/h4>\n
Picture it: St Patrick\u2019s Day, 1980-something, California. As I enter the office, our receptionist looks up. An expectant smile lights up Barb\u2019s face. It dims when I remove my coat to reveal a black ensemble.<\/p>\n
\u201cShoot,\u201d says Barb. \u201cI thought you\u2019d be wearing your national costume.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gently, I break it to Barb that people in Ireland do not wear national costumes.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do they wear?\u201d says Barb, aggrieved.<\/p>\n
\u201cUm, just . . . clothing. Like anybody else.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh.\u201d She looks crushed.<\/p>\n
\u201cAlso, Barb? I was born in Phoenix, Arizona.\u201d<\/p>\n
$\"Crane$
Then again, Irish summers delight locals and visitors alike . . .
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Festivity to \u201cDye\u201d For<\/strong><\/h4>\n
Until recently, the way Ireland and the U.S. celebrated St Patrick\u2019s Day was markedly different.<\/p>\n
St Patrick\u2019s Day American-style was an all-day Lucky Charms commercial. Suddenly the air was thick with \u201cSure \u2018n begorrah!\u201d and \u201cErin go bragh!\u201d\u2014words never uttered in Ireland.<\/p>\n
Nationwide, green snack foods proliferated in breakrooms. Green bagels, green cupcakes, green cookies. If you didn\u2019t wear green, people would pinch you. Green socks, green sunglasses, green badges emblazoned \u201cKiss me! I\u2019m Irish!\u201d<\/p>\n
Oh, the indignity to a sensitive soul such as I.<\/p>\n
$\"An$
. . . and by late summer, life in Ireland moves outdoors.
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Joyce McGreevy, Cultural Policewoman<\/strong><\/h4>\n
Raised in two cultures and the mother of an Irish-born son, you\u2019d think I\u2019d have relished any chance to celebrate my heritage.<\/p>\n
Hah!<\/em><\/p>\n
In those days, the most Irish thing about me was my curmudgeonly attitude, my utter refusal to abide \u201csuch nonsensical carry-on.\u201d No, I would NOT like a Shamrock Shake. No, I would NOT like to put on a plastic green leprechaun hat. No, I would NOT care for corned beef and cabbage. None of these things pertained to the Real Ireland.<\/p>\n
So fierce was my commitment to cultural authenticity, that in contrast to all the green, my St Patrick\u2019s Day face was forty shades of red.<\/p>\n
As self-appointed cultural firebrand, I made it my mission to douse any outbreaks of fun with the cold water of clarity. Did people not know that St Patrick was born in France? That he came to Ireland because he was kidnapped by pirates?<\/p>\n
$\"A$
Mind you, Ireland’s autumn has a poetry all its own . . .
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Snakes on a Plain<\/strong><\/h4>\n
As for Himself\u00a0 \u201cdrrriving the snakes out of Oyrland,\u201d honestly! <\/em>Beautiful as Ireland is, would any self-respecting reptile choose to live in a cool, rainy climate? Those \u201csnakes\u201d were actually eels found in pre-Christian sacred wells. Patrick didn\u2019t drive them anywhere. He simply blessed the wells while doing his bit to spread European culture.<\/p>\n
Indeed, Palladius of Anatolia likely arrived before Patrick, having been sent by Pope Celestine in 432. Yes, the first bishop of Ireland was Turkish, yet does anyone throw poor old Palladius a parade?<\/p>\n
My smoldering umbrage was not without fuel. \u00a0Back then, we were all less savvy about each other\u2019s cultures. As late as the 1990s, I was still fielding such questions as: \u201cDoes Ireland have electricity?\u201d \u201cDo people there just eat potatoes?\u201d And my personal favorite: \u201cDo people talk normal there\u2014you know, do they say stuff like awesome<\/em> and cowabunga<\/em>\u201d?<\/p>\n
Totally, dude.<\/p>\n
By the 2000s, the Internet and affordable travel were replacing stereotypes with cultural authenticity. We could see more clearly a culture’s everyday realities and thus appreciate it more.<\/p>\n
$\"Hunter\u2019s$
. . . and Irish winters are festive.
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Real Ireland, Revisited<\/strong><\/h4>\n
Picture it: \u00a0Galway, Ireland 2013. My college friend Brendan invites me to the St Patrick\u2019s Day parade. This, I trust, will reflect the Real Ireland.<\/p>\n
And it does. Just not as I\u2019d expected.<\/p>\n
Yes, there are traditional Irish dancers and musicians. And floats commemorating Irish history. But there is also a diversity of cultures, immigrants from all over the world who have made their home in this \u201cIreland of the Welcomes.\u201d As parade groups are announced, they present performances that artfully combine Irish elements with elements of their origin cultures.<\/p>\n
In movement, music, costumes, colors, voices, and vibe, a magnificent chorus of cultures creates a mood that ripples through the crowd.<\/p>\n
It is joy. The joy unique to something we all deeply miss these days: community<\/em>. Not as a concept, but felt, lived, shared. <\/em><\/p>\n
And the parade watchers? A sea of goofy green accessories. Neon as all get-out.<\/p>\n
Oh, I see:<\/strong> In 21st century Ireland, there\u2019s room for silliness along with solemnity. For pride with a dash of self-parody. For transcending stereotypes by sharing a laugh at them.<\/p>\n
So, here\u2019s to new memories. Picture it: St Patrick\u2019s Day 2021, everywhere if not in Ireland. Instead, on Zoom with family, friends, and neighbors around the world. Ditching my narrow notion of cultural authenticity as we celebrate the many meanings of “Real Ireland.”<\/p>\n
Now pass me that green bagel.<\/p>\n
$\"An$
Meet you in Ireland in March 2022?
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Tourism Ireland invites you to virtually visit Ireland this Wednesday, March 17. Join #StPatricksDayAtHome, here<\/a>.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n
Comment<\/em><\/a> on the post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":null,"protected":false},"author":15,"featured_media":39923,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[99,516,535],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-39918","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-heritage-culture","category-ireland-mappoints","category-history-travel"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/39918","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/15"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=39918"}],"version-history":[{"count":32,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/39918\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":39960,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/39918\/revisions\/39960"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/39923"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=39918"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=39918"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=39918"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}