On Come the Irish

I suppose I should count myself lucky that the barrage started late this year. But still, I could go without all the Irish/St. Patrick's Day-themed commercials on the radio.

We have a local spa dealership here that just goes absolutely bonkers for St. Patrick's Day. That's fine. The family that runs the business has Irish heritage. I'm just tired of every other holiday on the calendar becoming a marketing gimmick, and since the fiddle and pipe music and bad Irish accents come out only this time of year, the St. Patrick's Day folly is much more recognizable.

I grew up dreading St. Patrick's Day because I attended a school where the kids and teachers took the wearing o' the green very seriously. If you were not wearing green, you were so covered with pinch-welts by the end of the day it wasn't even funny. It didn't help that the recess/lunchroom aide and school bouncer knew my mother, so I got extra special treatment. I know it was all innocent fun now, But back then, anything that set you apart from the nameless rabble of other school kids marked you. Not that the school was gang-ridden, but a fat kid who wore a really huge pair of glasses didn't need any other reason to stand out.