Erin go What?

There is just one day a year when everyone proclaims that they are Irish. Of course the main reason they do that is because it gives them an excuse to down gallon after gallon of green beer.

I have Irish blood in me and although the Kennedys probably can claim the lineage better than me, I do have some of the Emerald Isle’s tendencies. Let me share with you what makes me Irish—but a different kind of Irish.

• Beneath the gray that has sprouted on my head, there is a tint of red. In fact, when I refuse to shave (usually when I am on vacation and most weekends when I don’t have to be anywhere) my face turns a scruffy reddish hue.
• While I was not born Catholic, I converted more than 20 years ago after I got married. I will admit that coming from a strong Presbyterian background, I still am a bit uneasy when I see a full bar set up in a church basement. The thought of using real wine for Communion in my childhood church was ridiculous. I can hear my aunts and cousins making "tsk tsk" noises even now (well maybe not a few of my cousins who read this column every week—but I won’t tell).
• Even though my wife is more German than Irish, she has enough Pennsylvania Dutch in her that potatoes are a vital staple in our household. When in doubt, have potatoes—just put a little parsley on them to make them green.
• I named my kids Colin and Grace (and Grace’s middle name is even Kathleen). If that doesn’t scream Irish, what does?
• I love the color green. It was always the first crayon I grabbed and I have always been a fan of lime Jell-O.
• When my kids were little I would tell them to sprinkle Lucky Charms cereal around the bushes outside in order to catch leprechauns. Although we never found any of the little guys, there were always some of those chocolate gold foil coins that they must have dropped.

Now every man has a right to turn his nose up now and then. As I said, I do have many Irish preferences. However, there are just some things that just don’t cut it in my book.

1. Green beer. As almost anyone who knows me will tell you, I am not a beer drinker. Occasionally I will drink a very cold, very pale beer on a hot summer day. Never mind those dark lagers or craft beers that everyone is pushing. Tastes like mud to me. No thanks.
2. Celtic music. It sounds like a bunch of cats in a bag to me.
3. Wool sweaters. Any time I wear something wool I feel like I have just broken out in a severe rash. I squirm. I complain. I feel my skin crawl. So living in a place with so many people wearing those itchy sweaters (not to mention all those sheep!) just doesn’t sit well with me.
4. The Greening of the Chicago River. Why? If there was anything that shouted "Toxic Waste" more, I would like to see it. Not sure how this is a tourist attraction unless it surrounded a nuclear reactor.

1. The Irish temper. Some will claim that I have it (and I live with three of them) but I just don’t see it. I am calm and rational. I can’t help it if everyone around me drives me crazy. I think it’s more their problem than mine.

So there you have it. I am an Irish man celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with my German wife, my half-Irish kids, green Jell-O, an iced tea and a potato while listening to non-Irish music while wearing my cotton shirt and sitting in Harrisburg.

Sounds about right to me.