A wee bit 'o humour on this me Patron Saint's Day

While everyday I am proud of my direct lineal Irish heritage, I really get excited as this is also the feast of MY Patron Saint.

My Saint is the cool one, the one that EVERYBODY LOVES, and the one that apparently forgives and encourages the most sin. Take that St. Valentine!

Beyond the party, the stout, and everything green, this day is very special to me, because of one young lady who took that great trip across the Atlantic on a White Star Liner to pass on her legacy in the new world. A woman of about 20 years of age who came to this Country to live out the American Dream. I talk of my maternal Grandmother, Margret "Peggy" Barrett O'Brien.

I had only one grandparent that I ever really had the chance to know before I lost them all. My mother's mother, an immigrant who persevered through all types of hardships in Ireland, and later in her journey to the States, was my cherished Grandma Peggy, my Irish Queen. As the oldest child of our little clan, I had the most time with her before she began to deteriorate in 1981, and ultimately wander on home to God in 1985.

I can't remember how to say the "Hail Mary" in Gaelic an more.

I can't share a BLT, hold the mayo and the "t" with my beloved Irish Queen.

I can no longer argue with her about the fact that Star Trek IS NOT the devil and I will not go to hell for watching it.

My mind struggles now to remember the sound of her voice and that soft remnant of a brogue colored by a life in the North, and later Atlanta.

I will always remember that Morrison's was HER restaurant.

I will miss her chocolate iced, yellow layer cake that she would make only for me.

I mourn my Grandma Peggy. These days I regret that I never had the chance to sit down with her and hear all of her life's rich and wonderful tales. I wish that she had been there to bless my children when they were born.

I choose to remember her in a more traditional way. Why bog myself down with tears and remorse when I should reach out to grab life and suck out it's marrow. Why taste the salt of regret, when a nice pint of stout chased by a great shot of Irish whiskey tastes so much better. Remember the good that was a person's life, and relish all that they meant to this world.

I will always remember my Grandma Peggy's laugh and the way that she could appreciate humor (or humour) and I celebrate her life with a good Irish pub joke that I am sure would have her rollin':

"An Irish man shows up in a pub one day and orders three pints of Guinness. He takes sips from each glass until they are empty and calls the bartender for three more.

The bartender says, 'Sure it's up to yourself, but wouldn't you rather I was bringing them one at a time? Then they'll be fresh and cold.'

'Nah...' your man says, ' I'm preferrin' that ye bring 'em three at a time. You see, me and me two brothers would meet at a pub and drink and have good times. Now one is in Australia, the other in Canada and I'm here. We agreed before we split up that we'd drink to each other's honour this way.'

'Well,' says the bartender, 'that's a grand thing to do, all right. I'll bring the pints as you ask.'

Well, time goes on and your man's peculiar habit is known and accepted by all the pub regulars. One day though, he comes in and orders only two pints. A hush falls over the pub. Naturally, everyone figures something happened to one of the brothers. A group of the regulars corner the bartender and finally persuade him to find out what happened.

With a heavy heart, the bartender brings the two pints and says, 'Here's your pints... and let me offer my sincerest condolences. What happened?'

The Irish man looks extremely puzzled for a moment, and then starts laughing.

'Oh, no, no, no! 'Tis nothing like that. You see, I've given up drinking for Lent...'

So you beautiful Irish Queen, I will raise my glass tomorrow and drink the pint I could never share with you. I will try to remember that life is so short, and that there is still so much to live. I will remember that someday, with God's will, I will see you again.

AND TO ALL WHO MIGHT READ THIS TOMORROW, I leave you with this traditional and old Irish blessing that my mother toasted us with on our wedding day, and you pass a framed copy on your left as you leave my home:

"May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand."

Beannachtam na Feile Padraig!