My dad was 50% Irish, with his father being 100%. 50% though was all my dad needed. It was as good as 100%. There was never much talk about his other 50%. As far as he was concerned, he was a true Irishman. Therefore, St. Patrick's Day was always celebrated in our household. Later on when I got married and moved out of my parents' house, a St. Patrick's Day never went by without receiving a card from my dad and mom. I still like to celebrate on this day, and as I sit at the computer with my shamrock socks on and a corned beef in the crockpot, I wish you all a very Happy St. Patrick's Day. And I would like to end this post with a little poem that my dad taught me when I was younger. I have no idea of its origins, but this is how I remember him teaching it to me:
I met a little leprechaun down where the shamrocks grow.
I asked him why he stayed so small, and why he didn't grow.
He frowned his brow, and with his eye, he looked me through and through.
"Well, I'm as big to me he said as you are big to you."