Pinchers can get punched.

Today is St Patrick's Day in the US. It is, of course, St Patrick's Day all over the world, and most importantly in Ireland, but I’m pretty certain even the Irish don’t bother about it as much as they do here.

It was one of the things we noticed when we arrived in the Valley in 2008: Celebrations of stuff like Halloween, Valentine's, and St Patrick's Day are taken a whole lot more seriously in America.

During Halloween back in the old country, you might get an apple or a Twix should you find yourself knocking on your neighbor’s door singing “I’m a little Teapot” while dressed as a ghost (don’t ask), But over here, it’s a whole affair where people decorate their front gardens with fake gravestones and skeletons and whole streets become little mini scream fests.

The celebration of St Patrick’s Day is not as extreme - There’s no street parties with the mock banishment of snakes - but in Chicago, they even dye the whole river green with vegetable dye for the occasion. (We actually had green rivers back in Scotland but for a less wholesome reason.) Here in LA, we have a big concrete ditch which is occasionally referred to as a river, and that’s mostly left alone

The weirdest thing of all that we found about Paddy’s day when we moved here was the custom that unless you wear green people can pinch you. Honestly. I’m not even joking. If you tried that shit back in Scotland, someone would punch you in the face.

Back when I was a kid, we did celebrate March 17th -not because of St Patrick though, but because it was my Dad’s birthday. My Dad loved having his birthday on St Paddy’s Day because he felt that in some way he’d brought equilibrium.

My Dad's Mum was Catholic and his Dad was Protestant. Back in the day, Catholics marrying Protestants was an absolute no-no. Both sides frowned up on it. Nevertheless, Peter and Beezie wanted to get married. And so they did.

They tied the knot on 12th July ( a big important date for uber Protestants) and my Dad was born on March 17th ( a big important day for uber Catholics) and so he felt peace came full circle.

I can’t remember exactly when it started, but sometime in my 20s, I would buy my Dad exactly the same present for his birthday. A checked shirt. Not the same checked shirt of course - I’m not a heathen - but some sort of shirt made out of a check pattern.

Usually on his birthday, I bought him a short-sleeved check shirt for the Summer - but that’s only because he liked to get a check shirt for Christmas too, and that would be the long-sleeved one.

And every birthday I’d wrap up his gift and when I handed him the parcel, he’d admire it and generally say something like, “Oh now this looks interesting. I wonder what this could be.”

And then he’d open it and it would be a check shirt and he’d be thrilled and act surprised (very badly) and say it was his favorite one yet. Then later on in the day, he’d appear from somewhere wearing the shirt and we would all agree it really was the best one yet.

When my Dad died, there was a whole lot of clearing out to do. I opened his closet and there they were - a line of check shirts neatly ironed, waiting to be worn.

With each shirt I could picture a specific birthday or Christmas. I could hear his laugh. I could see him pottering about the garden in his short-sleeved summer one. I could see him sitting wearing his long-sleeved brushed cotton one while drinking a glass of wine on a cold winter night.

Each one was a photograph. I knew I could not let them go. So I packed them up in a suitcase to keep them safe.

My mother-in-law, Sandra, is amazing at quilting. When I told her what I’d done, she took the shirts and, very carefully, made beautiful patchwork quilts and cushion covers with them. I distributed them around my family.

My sons have patchwork cushions on their beds. And I have so many pieces of patchwork around my house. I probably notice the one in my office most. I like to look across at it when I’m taking things too seriously. Life is short and it is beautiful and there’s no point in wasting time with anger or disappointment. Those you love will not always be here. When they leave you, all you have will be memories. It makes it easier when they are good ones.

So, yeah, today is St Patrick’s Day, not just here in the US but all over the world. Especially in Ireland. And you can wear green if you want to. And you don’t have to wear green if you don’t. And if somebody pinches you for not wearing green, I think it’s OK to punch them, or report them to the cops for harassment.

And I’m happy to wish you the luck of the Irish - though, to be honest, I know quite a lot of Irish people who haven’t as it turned out been especially lucky.

But March 17th really is a day worth celebrating. For many things.

Till next week

xo

As an extra wee gift, here’s a vid I made with some pals a few years ago. It was literally just silliness. xo

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