Encounters With the Clueless

We got to yesterday's St. Patrick's Day parade a little late so maybe we missed all the super exciting floats. But as far as parades go, I give it a D+.

I mean, hello City of Los Angeles, having a green-painted trash truck drive down the street is not exciting. Not in the least. Have some dancing leprechauns next to it or something. Even my kids were like, "Why is there a trash truck in the parade, mommy?"

I guess I was expecting a Chicago-style St. P's Day celebration and this was not it. If you want to see some photos of what we saw, LAist's photographers were right by where we were sitting and captured both the parade and the subsequent festivities in Pershing Square.

That's not to say we didn't still have a great time. My boys danced a little to the sounds of the folk rock group, Young Dubliners. They also got to pet a gigantic Irish wolfhound, take photos with various fire trucks and harass the police officers in kilts by asking, "Why do you have on a skirt?"

We were also captivated by the dancing horses that came out and did their version of the Irish Jig. I took a little video of it for you:



My sons also tried to jump in the specially dyed green water over in Pershing Square. By that point I was thinking about those old "Calgon, take me away" commercials so I told them they could go in the water if they wanted to but that, "Weirdos come along and go to the bathroom in it too so swim in that if you want." They didn't want to jump in after I said that and instead took to trying to float leaves on it.

While I was sitting there watching them, a guy sitting a couple feet away with his kids asked why I was all tricked out in the shamrocks and green. Not to mention that HE was all tricked out himself, but whatever. I told him that it's fun and besides, I'm half Irish so I have to represent.

His response? Laughter. "Ha-ha! That's a good one! You're one of those Irish for a day types, aren't ya?"

"No. I'm really half Irish."

He sobered up quickly. "Are you for real? Because you sure don't look like you're part Irish."

I've heard this my whole life so my ever so sweet and innocent reply was ready. "Well, what does someone who's part Irish look like?"

"Uh, um, uh." He was stammering like he thought I was going to go all Jeremiah Wright on him. And then he spit out, "I woulda thought you're just a plain ole black person."

Newsflash! All of us plain ole black people (and a lot of you plain ole white people) are mixed with something. Some of us just have it a little closer in our family tree than others. I was pretty through with the conversation by that point but then this moron dropped the ultimate bomb by asking, "What is St. Patrick's Day about anyway?"

Are you for real? You're down at a St. Patrick's Day celebration with your family and you don't even know what you're celebrating. He wasn't the only one though. I got into conversations with no less than FOUR individuals who were all, "I have no idea what St. Patrick's Day is about!"

I'll give them all the benefit of the doubt and assume they got dropped on their heads as children. I should have told them that St. Patrick's Day is the day you have to give $20 to the first person who tells you what the day is really about.

Going Green on St. Patrick's Day

Happy St. Patrick's Day to all y'all out there who are Irish or just wish you were! In honor of my own Irish heritage, I'll be rocking a very cute green jacket and some beads I acquired during last year's trip to New Orleans. I'll also be celebrating by taking my sons to the St. Patrick's Day parade in Downtown LA. I've never been to a St. P's Day parade but hopefully it'll be fun.

I will admit that I feel a little bad for going to the parade since this is Holy Week. I know lots of cities had their St. P's celebrations this past Friday or Saturday because, if I understand it correctly, you're historically supposed to abstain from drinking and revelry during Holy Week. I'm not sure how many people still observe in that fashion.

Plus, even though I'm not Catholic, I'm quite aware of the tension between what seems to be the increasing secularization of St. P's Day and those who want to maintain it's roots as the observance of a Catholic feast day. The kids came home from school talking about the 21st century trinity: little people, pots of gold and leprechauns. I had to spend a bit of time teaching my sons about how St. Patrick brought Catholicism to Ireland and chased all the snakes away.

I also know I could barely get into my local grocery store last night without tripping over the ginormous displays of liquor at the entrance. Guinness wants to make St. P's Day a national holiday here -- and of course they won't mind one bit if more people drink and make them wealthier. Yours truly doesn't drink. I don't need a pint of Guinness in order to relax and act crazy. I do that very well all by myself, thank you very much.

I also wish more people in the world didn't drink. Ask any police officer what's the number one factor in domestic violence calls and you'll hear them say, "Alcohol." No alcohol would also mean no more drunk drivers. Wouldn't it be nice to have a world where we didn't need an organization like Mother's Against Drunk Driving? I'll definitely be taking the subway to the parade today, mostly because I don't want to risk being hit by a drunk driver.

Yeah, most of the folks wearing green today have no idea about real Irish history in this country. They may have heard about the potato famine but they probably don't know that there would probably never have been a labor movement in this country without the Irish immigrant. Folks don't even know how the Irish weren't even considered white when they came here and were called white negroes or white ni**ers. Click here to see some of the stereotypical and downright racist newspaper cartoon portrayals of the Irish.

Of course, over time, the Irish successfully become white (read "How the Irish Became White" for more on this) primarily by agreeing to get in on the oppression of black folks in this country. Even though all that is conveniently forgotten, many media portrayals of the Irish still revolve around a bunch of stereotypes. My dad isn't a Guinness-drinking, lazy, fighting type of guy who can't hold a job. He doesn't roll around with a shillelagh, he doesn't have red hair and he's not a police officer or a firefighter.

But, I will admit he does like potatoes and he does have a tam that he wears sometimes...

As for luck, I'm convinced the folks over at Bear Stearns must be 100% Irish. They've gotten the mother of all bailouts from our government. On Friday, the Federal Reserve saved them from going under. I find it interesting that as hard as I looked online I couldn't find a definitive number of how much the Federal Reserve gave them. I know it has to have been millions and millions of dollars. Gosh, who said welfare doesn't exist? Isn't this corporate welfare? Whatever happened to the idea that throwing money at the problem isn't the solution? Then over the weekend, JP Morgan snapped them up for the price of $236 million or a mere $2 a share. It's just shady and you KNOW it's all eventually going to get passed on to taxpayers (also known as you and me). It sounds like we need someone to drive the snakes out of Wall Street.

Yeah, I'm definitely not Irish enough for hookups like that. If I'm broke or having "cash flow problems" the government is not going to step in within 24 hours to save my behind. I suppose I'll just keep on making my own luck. In the meantime, give some good luck kisses to all the beautiful Irish women you know. And for those of you at work, keep it to an air kiss unless you're married to or dating the woman. I really don't want you to get popped in the lip or sued for sexual harassment for attempting something you shouldn't have.

So, however lucky or unlucky you may be, have a fab St. Patrick's Day. Éire go brách!

Heritage

I'm back home in Los Angeles but I haven't yet given up on the New Orleans spirit. I came home and rocked my green and white beads all day Saturday in honor of St. Patrick's Day. My little boys were happy to wear some beads too. My husband refused.

"Oh, that's ok. I'm not Irish," he said.

Technically, I'm not Irish either. I'm half Irish-American.

It's funny though, I have a whole lot of pride about that Irish heritage. Some people might think it's because I'm trying to identify more with the white side of my heritage instead of the black side. I think it's more that I don't know a whole lot about my black ancestry. With the Irish side, I know what boat my ancestors took over here, what year they got here, where they settled, what their names were.

Do I know any of that about the black side of my family? Nope. I couldn't tell you what slave ship carried them, what country they came from (because Africa is a continent, not a country), what plantations they worked on, what they did during Reconstruction...none of it. My black family history begins with my grandmother's father, a man named Green Walker. I should know more than that.

I've always wanted to be one of those folks that take the time to research their family genealogy. One of these days, I'm going to do it. I want to know it all.