St. Patrick's Day

When people see only my first name on paper or in rare cases, my first and middle name, which is Liam Tobin, most of them probably think "wow, this dude must be as Irish as they come".  But then they see my last name and they say "oh.  Nope, never mind".  Liam and Tobin are both very Irish names, but on the contrary, my last name, Dumenjich, is very Croatian.  I was always pretty aware of the basic makeup of my heritage, but thanks to 23 and Me, I've been able to drill into the details a little more.  My mom's side of the family is mostly Irish with some German heritage, and my dad's side originates from various places in Germany, along with Southern and Eastern Europe, including Croatia, Greece, and Hungary.  The simple version of my heritage is Croatian, German, and Irish, which is what I often tell people.  Part of the reason why I was always cognizant of my heritage is because of the fact that my mom's side of the family takes great pride in their Irish roots.  

Virtually all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins on my mom's side have Irish names.  Two guys named Patrick, Katherine, Mary, Kelly, etc.  Christmas was often celebrated over two days.  Many members of that side of my family wear Claddagh rings and jewelry with Gaelic knots incorporated into the design.  We had Gaelic poetry on the walls in our house and Waterford Crystal drinking glasses in our cupboard.  Us kids drew pictures of shamrocks just for fun.  Irish whiskey and Guinness were must haves at any family gathering.  My mom loved anything and everything Irish.  It runs in the family, and my aunts, uncles, and cousins still share this sentiment today.  

St. Patrick's Day was never a day that went uncelebrated.  Growing up, we had not only the day itself, but also the parade in the Corktown neighborhood of Detroit, which is always held the Sunday before.  My mom took me to the St. Patrick's Day parade in Detroit before I even turned a year old.  Somewhere in my collection of keepsake photos, there's a picture from the St. Patties parade in 1987 of me wearing a green onesie, posing with my two uncles in between pulls of Guinness.  The standard cliché is that St. Patrick's day, which falls on the 17th of March every year, is an excuse to wear green, drink green beer, and get shitfaced drunk.  Okay, maybe there's a reason for that.  The Irish certainly have a reputation for heavy drinking.  All clichés come from somewhere right?  My uncle once joked that even though people drive on the left side of the road in Ireland, they're driving on the right side of the road half of the time because they're trashed.  Another one of my family members has a funny coffee mug that tells you the ingredients for Irish coffee with a scale for each ingredient on the side of the mug.  The first three inches are Irish whiskey, with about a centimeter for coffee and cream.  I myself, along with my family members have largely embraced the stereotypes, however for the Irish, St. Patrick's Day has a deeper meaning.  

The purpose of the holiday, simply put, is to celebrate and honor the life of St. Patrick, who died on March 17th back in the 17th century.  St. Patrick is viewed by many as the most significant saint in Irish history, having had a large impact in shaping Irish culture.  It started off as being observed as a religious holiday by the Catholic church, but we all know what it's become today.  Today in Ireland it is widely celebrated as a holy day, in a way that is similar to how Thanksgiving is celebrated in the United States:  A day to be with your family and loved ones and have a big feast.  Okay, and have some drinks too.  That is often the way the actual holiday was celebrated on my mom's side of the family.  We'd typically go over to one of my aunt's houses and just hang out together.  Of course the parades the weekend before were a different story.  We would all be dressed up in our St. Patties attire as the parade went by, and cheer people people on.  Once the parade ended, we'd spend the remainder of the afternoon at The Old Shillelagh, one of the most well known Irish pubs in Detroit.  I enjoyed this annual tradition almost every year up until when I left Michigan and moved to Chicago in spring of 2009.  St. Patrick's Day in Chicago was a different level of rowdiness.  The Chicago river, which runs through the downtown area is dyed shamrock green the weekend before St. Patrick's Day every year (If you've never seen it, Google it.  It's pretty awesome).  Every bar in town is packed, house parties are everywhere, and there are not one, but two parades.  The two St. Patties Days I spent in Chicago are definitely ones to remember.

Above all, St. Patrick's Day is my mom's holiday in my world.  Because she loved it so much, I often think of her on St. Patties Day and all of the fun memories I had with her and her side of the family.  Usually I drink a Guinness in her honor, even if it's at home.  This year however, Sam and I drank Shamrock shakes from McDonald's, which are pretty tasty by the way.  I hope to someday bring Sam and our little dude, who will be arriving this summer, to a St. Patrick's Day parade in Detroit with my mom's family.  It'll happen when time permits.  In the meantime though, maybe we can start him off with a shamrock shake on his first St. Patties Day in 2023.