3/17

Luck of the Irish.

Green beer and green clothes and wear this and do that.

And get o'hammered.

Far be it for me to bring down your annual excuse for imbibing because, hey, there's nothing stereotypical about that and, somehow, that's still cool.

Anyway, I'm digressing.

St. Patrick's Day -- every day -- is what you make of it.

For years I did good things. I was driving to Shakespeare's Stratford-upon-Avon on St. Patrick's Day in 1998.

Driving. In England. Oh yeah Stratford-upon-Avon and Oxford were both pretty cool but I was driving in England. I overpaid for a standard transmission Ford because there was no way in hell I was going to maneuver a stick shift and drive on the "wrong side of the road."

So, yeah, Shakespeare and all. But I drove in England and, once I got the hang of it, I wasn't bad at it. OK, there was that spot that I pulled out of a parking lot and started driving on the right side of the road, but hey, no harm!

I find being active and doing something good is the best thing for me on March 17. Just being happy helps a lot.

Lately, ol' Shamrock O'Adams hasn't quite found the pot of gold at the end of the Lucky Charms.

Like virtually everyone, I sat home last year and watched "The Quiet Man" for the first time in probably 30 years. I'll leave the movie content for those who feel the need to cancel literally everything. For me, it's a place in time with rich green scenery and a lengthy (but funny) fistfight scene. 

And John Wayne. My father adored John Wayne.

Oh, yeah, my father. He plays the starring role in this. He came home from work 32 years ago tonight and was dead by the time I got home later. I arrived at an empty house with an ashtray on the floor and confusion in the air.

I'd love to see today as fun or special. I wish I could and, in the right situation, I would.

I try. I do. Like I said, I had years of doing "stuff." 

Years of travel, games, whatever. 

But I'm not working today so my mind isn't occupied, at least not until "Doubleheader" later and "The Clubhouse" even later on. 

I'm probably not leaving the house and, if you must know, I'm writing from the very very spot that both of my parents died.

So, yeah.

And so it is what it is, I guess.

Sorry to lament. Just talking out loud.

Enjoy celebrating however you choose.

Be safe.

Happier thoughts:

Brunswick baseball starts in two weeks.

Forty-eight days until first pitch of the Renegades. I tweeted at Jersey Shore yesterday, hoping they'd play along about the first game of the season.

Social media is a crapshoot, isn't it?

I'm babbling. Rambling.

I'm fine. So are you. We all are.

Sláinte.