Hoist a pint of green beer and smile

By David W. Kuhns Sr., Northwest Guardian

I’m not Irish, but maybe I should be.

Monday is St. Patrick’s Day, and for some people that is a major occasion. Cities in the East hold parades, people drink green beer — for much of the country, this is a really big deal.

I grew up in the West, in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. Not much of the population identified itself as Irish down there. Towns were more likely to celebrate a Scandinavian heritage than a Celtic one. German festivals were observed more religiously than St. Patrick’s Day. Most of those seemed to be centered around food, too. And, while I fondly remember the joys of taking part in the Mount Angel Oktoberfest, or the Verboort Sausage Festival, they speak most eloquently to my love of fatty food, not to any cultural attributes.

St. Patrick’s Day is different. While it might be traditional to eat corned beef and cabbage, and to search for recipes to make soda bread, that doesn’t really touch on the nature of the day. People celebrate St, Patrick’s Day because they celebrate being Irish — even if their ancestors never set foot on the “auld sod.”

I have put some thought into our national fascination with the Irish and have reached a conclusion: people want to be Irish because, no matter how bad things get, you always think of the Irish with smiles on their faces.

That image is almost universal. Ireland means leprechauns, and singing in pubs, and a sense of camaraderie and joy that flies in the face of Irish history.

In truth, the people of Ireland have had more than their share of problems. For centuries Ireland was a battleground. Viking invaders pillaged the island, then Norman invaders took control. The Irish spent hundreds of years in conflict with the British. The biggest influx of Irish to America came from the Potato Famine of the 1840s, when millions of Irish starved to death because of the failure of the potato crop. Hundreds of thousands more Irish were forced off their lands by absentee English landlords more concerned with sheep than people.

Poverty, war, and famine: those are the key elements that leap out of Irish history.

But when we think of the Irish, we don’t visualize a wretched flood of desperate refugees. We think of the workers who built our cities, laid our railroads, and staffed our first police and fire departments. We think of a people who looked out for their families and one another and built a promising life out of nothing.

The image of the Irish, whether it is historically accurate or not, is the image of America. There is an essential optimism and joy to it all that anyone can appreciate. I think that is why people yearn to be Irish — they want to be happy.

And what is wrong with that?

There certainly are plenty of troubles in the world today. Our Army is at war, our loved ones and friends deployed to distant and dangerous lands.

Daily life throws up more and more challenges and threats — pandemic flu, global warming, holes in the ozone, terrorists, lions and tigers and bears ... oh, my!

We need — I need — to keep a positive outlook on life. No matter what gets thrown our way, it will never be made worse by a smile and a joyful attitude.

So wear some green on Monday; enjoy some corned beef and cabbage; hoist a pint of green beer, if you like. My ancestors came from Germany and England, but I think I’ll choose to be Irish — at least for one day.