3/17

My dad's Irish bar was one of my favorite places to be when I was growing up.  Each year, it was understood he would not be seen before bed, because he would be at the bar all night with the St. Patrick's Day crowd.  I remember each morning of the 18th, it would be an anxious awaiting to hear just how crowded it was at the bar last night.  Funny, looking back on it, the answer was always the same, but I always was waiting to hear with such anticipation.  "It was packed solid from 4:00 until we closed" or "gadzooks, it was packed" or "it was just a constant packed crowd all night" or "oh yeah, it was the biggest one I remember."  No green beer served.....he would tell you "the Irish don't drink green beer, they just drink beer."  When he opened a new bar, closer to where we lived, we would sneak up there and peak in the window to see how crowded the bar was, and it always was.....it made me feel so proud....that's my dad's bar.  When I got older, I even got to be bartender during the lunch shift one St. Patrick's Day.  It was a life highlight.   This is a picture of my shamrock, which I love.  It always reminds me of him, his Irish, my Irish.