Hope your St. Patrick's Day was as joyous as hers.
I thought I was doing good until I heard about one group of friends who had vowed to party from dawn to dawn on St. Patrick’s Day—and did it. By that measure, my St. Paddy’s day was for wimps. Here’s how it went:
8 AM: Got to the Plough and the Stars on Second Street for Philadelphia Judge Jimmy Lynn’s annual St. Patrick’s Day breakfast. I got no breakfast but snapped a lot of pictures, met a lot of politicians and judges, and ran into an old friend I hadn’t seen in 30 years—Joe Grace, who is running for Philadelphia City Council.
10 AM: Hopped on a bus with a bunch of local AOHers to go to City Hall where Councilwoman Joan Krajewski (she’s half Irish) read a proclamation denouncing Spencer Gifts for their “derogatory” St. Patrick’s Day merchandise (got to see some examples—and we can’t show them here). Met up with the two rugby teams who are playing the Donnybrook Cup on Saturday—the USA Tomahawks and the Irish Wolfhounds of the International Rugby League, who were being honored by city council.
11 AM: The bus dropped us back at the Plough where we walked the block to Penns Landing for the annual wreath-laying and flag-raising ceremonies at the Irish Memorial, which was framed by a robin’s egg blue sky.
12 PM: I’m in FDR Park at Broad and Pattinson where the Irish Wolfhounds semi-pro rugby team is supposed to practice. The field is sopping but these are tough guys—imagine American football without helmets and padding—so they make do. It’s only a practice, but blood is drawn.
2 PM: They’re cleaning up the remains of lunch at the St. Patrick’s Day Party at the Irish Center in Mt. Airy (I help—I haven’t had anything to eat all day), so I hear a little music (from the Vince Gallagher Band) and enjoy a little camaraderie with the homies.
Now, I would have had dinner and listened to music (the McGillians) at the Glenside Pub had it been possible to wedge my way in there at 6:30 PM, but it would have taken a miracle to have parted those revelers who were spilling out on to the sidewalk. So my husband and I did the smart thing—we went to a Jewish restaurant. We had no trouble finding a seat, then noticed that. . .everyone was wearing green. So it’s true—on St. Patrick’s Day, everyone is Irish.
Of course, I took photos wherever I went and here they are.
