St. Patrick's Day Memories

 

As I sit here moaning after my second helping of corned beef and cabbage along with a supporting cast of boiled potatoes and carrots followed by a large slice of my Grandmother’s recipe of Irish Soda Bread, troweled with an exorbitant helping of KerryGold Irish Butter like an Irish mason ready to build a wall ,and all washed down with a healthy helping of Guinness Stout, like a moth who has just inhaled an entire wool sock and is helplessly groaning from his excesses on the floor of a coat closet with wool threads still sticking out of his mouth , a stream of images from St. Patrick days past come rushing back to memory.

My two older daughters Meaghan and Kaitlyn then seven and eight years old at the time had been taking Irish Step Dance lessons with Cyril Mc Niff of The Ed Sullivan Show fame ,at the St. Mary’s school lunchroom on Friday evenings for about a year and had competed in Feisanna while winning trophies, and were ready to join the Association of Irish Step Dancers of North America, wherein all the various Irish dance schools in Queens and the surrounding area came together to train in unison on Sunday afternoons for the St. Patrick’s Day Parade on Fifth Avenue. The girls met and got to know each other and became aware of the different styles and nuances of the various schools as they learned their new formations.

The big day finally came and the 7 train was filled with Irish faces dressed in green mixed in with the usual crowd of commuters. Some of the other children from the group were in our train car, also dressed in their Irish dance costumes and they all were very excited. We filed out of the 7 train as planned at 5^th Avenue by the forty second street library to utter confusion as there were people everywhere crisscrossing each other’s path. Old friends were reunited, and new friendships were forged in this chaotic scene as Irish immigrants and Irish Americans swirled around in the ethnic melting pot that is New York City. The usual deafening sounds of the city were drowned out by the squeaking, shrieking, sounds of thousands of bagpipes all being tuned up simultaneously sounding like wild animals being disemboweled alive while chalk was scratched across a blackboard. It was a discordant sound and totally different from that which these same wind instruments would later emit when played in unison. I had no idea that there were so many bagpipe players in the whole world! We worked our way through the crowd holding our girls tightly by the hand so as not to lose them in the massive crowd while my son sat on my shoulders in his Aran Islands wool hat above the fray, taking it all in. Everyone met at 44^th street between Fifth and Sixth Avenue.

Each of the side streets bordering 5^th Ave were filled with the sound of long forgotten friends meeting again exchanging greetings and making plans to get together after the parade while marching bands marched up and down these side streets practicing their formations while bagpipers looked for any little nook and cranny to practice their craft in the noise street. Fluters fluted, drummers drummed, dancers danced, and bagpipers piped while banners were unfurled in the brisk cold morning air on the  cusp of spring. A parade official lined up the various groups letting them know how much time remained before they would start and as the time grew closer each group formed their lines and began to march down the side street to enter 5^th Ave on cue. The banners were unfurled the wind biting at exposed skin, the marchers marched down the street in their respective groups in straight lines listening to the orders barked by their respective coordinators.

The sounds of the marching bands drowned out the usual sounds of the city augmented by the cheering crowds and occasional honking cars annoyed by this interruption in their usual route. We entered the parade on 44^th St taking a sharp left turn, pivoting in one motion as practiced, onto the Avenue and walked due north stopping at intervals for the girls to dance including a stop in front of Saint Patrick’s Cathedral on 50^th St to dance for the beaming Cardinal O’Connor. He was thrilled with our troop and applauded wildly when they were done and gave them his blessing. Later on, the group danced for the cameras further up the Ave and it was televised. In these years the parade ended on 86^th St and Lexington Avenue making a sharp right off 5^th Avenue turning right onto the street and heading east to the finish line at Lexington Avenue where the parade participants dissolved into the crowd of parade attendees. After all the goodbyes were said and plans made, the massive crowd headed for the Lexington Ave subway line where patrolman stood at the head of the stairs directing the travelers while expressing in a thick Irish brogue, ‘Alright then now, all you Irish back to Woodside!’ It was a simpler time when people were not so sensitive about such ethnic pronouncements and everyone had a good hearty laugh as they descended the stairs to go home.

When we got home the girls turned on the TV and VCR as we had taped the parade and got to watch themselves dance down 5^th Ave. A wonderful day was had by all.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day to all and May you Be in Heaven a full half hour before the Devil knows you’re dead!

 

Jim 3/17/22