I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about St. Patrick’s Day.  I mean, it was March 17th all day today.  People everywhere, dressed in green, wearing funny shamrock hats, and “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” pins, drinking green beer, and such.  Entire cities pouring green dye into their rivers, in the celebration.  It really is a pretty big festivity.   It seems to be teaming with magic, wonder and excitement.

Now…… .. what all of that pomp and circumstance has to do with St. Patrick, I am not sure.  Known as the “Apostle of Ireland,” he is the primary patron saint of Ireland.

And so it happened…when he was about 16…  about the time he should have been learning to drive a car… and not snakes….. , he was captured by Irish pirates from his home in Britain.  From there he was taken as a slave to Ireland.  Not for long though.   He was in Ireland six years before escaping and returning to his family.

Irish Pirates.  Now there is one for you.  Were they little Leprechaun looking fellows in a boat… wearing knickers?  Would they sail around endlessly, looking for the end of the rainbow and their little pots of gold?  I can only wonder, but I am off topic.

It just hit me that no other Ethnic Group in America has such a day…  here in the U.S…. like the Irish do.  Not the Polish, the French, or the Italians.  Not Germans or Russians…. nadda.   Sure there are festivals, like Oktoberfest.   But nothing like this.

I do not have a drop of Irish in me.  Not as far back as I have researched, on both my Dad and my Mom’s lines.  We are German, German, German.. …. and uhhhhnnnn….. German.  I bet most people reading this don’t even know who the Patron Saint of Germany is.

For those who don’t…. it is St. Boniface.  He was a pretty big dude when it came to the establishment of the first organized Christianity in many parts of Germany and Europe.     But like all good Saints… he pretty much died a horrible death.  He was on a missionary trip, and got ransacked by a bunch of traveling burglars.   They killed him dead.  And 52 others who were with him.

I think it might have been the Irish Pirates…. but I can’t say for sure.  The “burglars” were looking for treasure.  Again… I speculate it was those little fellas after those pots of Gold.

But the whole St. Boniface Day thing never caught on in the U.S.  It could be good, I am telling you.  Not that I drink, but I am pretty sure the Germans have better beer…. and a LOT better food than the Irish.  And we wouldn’t be dying everything green.

So… I am starting a movement.  Let us lay down our Shamrocks, and pick up our Oak Trees, one-eyed cats, and BMWs, Volkswagens,  Porsches and Audis.

Weinerschnitzel for everyone.  Lasst die Spiele beginnen.  Das ist gut.

Yet.  The bottom line is this.  It doesn’t really matter how you decided to celebrate March 17th.    What matters.. ….. is that you made a decision to celebrate something.

A lot of time, life just seems like the old “Day In. Day Out” to us.  But, we should be able to find something, anything….. to celebrate… each and every day.    Today I found cause in a lot of things… from someone to making me smile with a comment about how my name-spelling went…. to being blessed  enough to have fresh chicken eggs in the morning.

No matter what the cause… we should take the time to celebrate the magic and the wonder in life’s little gifts.   Our little pots of gold.  Minus the mean green Irish Pirates.

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. ~Thornton Wilder

He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has. ~Epictetus