A Parade, a Farewell, and a Party: St. Patrick's Day 2018

ERIN GO BRAGH!!!

How's it going fellow Irishmen and wanna-be Irishmen?

This year was a crazy, jam-packed rollercoaster of a holiday, people - make no mistake about it.  Once again, this year would find us celebrating the Most Glorious of Holidays in Clare, with my dear associate BP and his family.  However, despite being hilt-deep in a whole slew of activities this time around, we ended up without many of the traditional St. Patrick's Day staples that have sewn themselves into the very fibers of our beings this time of year. 

For the first time in three years, there was no running of the Clare Irishfest 5K, there was no staying over at Dad and Cindy's, there was no meal and subsequent afternoon/evening spent throwing back beers and catching up with friends from High School at the mecca of Clare's Irishfest, the Doherty Hotel.  We didn't do any of that stuff.

Here's why.

The center of Clare since the Mob days. . .

1. ) Last year, our family and BP's family hung around the Doherty after the parade for hours.  We had dinner there, and afterwards walked around and caught up with people that we went to high school with back in the day.  It was cool.  We also caught a few live bands and the kids got to dance around for awhile.  Also cool.  But the drunkenness of the Doherty's crowds was bothersome - even before dinner, idiots were drunkenly staggering around swearing at the tops of their lungs, and, while that's nothing that used to bother either of us in our early 20s (when we were those idiots), now that we have kids of our own in tow, it's somehow not nearly as cool (or appropriate.)  So we opted to skip that scene entirely this year.

John and Jann also blessed both of our girls when they were young.

2.)  John and Jann Wolf, old family friends of ours who also happened to be my godparents (and my history and Spanish teachers in high school, respectively), both passed away earlier in the year, and their children honored their wishes by holding a post-mortem 'Celebration of Life' instead of a funeral for them.  It just so happened to be from 1pm - 6pm on St. Patrick's Day, and the memorial service part of the thing was slotted for 2pm.  That more or less meant that BP (who also had them as teachers in high school) and I would have to leave directly after the parade if we were going to give our condolences before the service started (we wouldn't be bringing along our wives and kids, as they didn't know the Wolfs as well as we did.)

3.)  Kris and I had decided earlier in the month that we would host a St. Patrick's Day Party at our house this year, and, if it was as successful as our Halloween parties have been over the last couple years, we could turn it into an annual thing.  This meant we'd have to head back to Midland shortly after BP and I returned from the Wolfs' service in order to get the house around for the party's start time at 6pm.

No time for the Doherty, or much else, but with everything else going on throughout the day we definitely stayed busy.

Allow me to walk you guys through things:

A bit o' Tullamore Dew for Breakfast (minus the green food coloring this time around.)  Despite going out with a bunch of guys the night before and consequently feeling like pure garbage throughout most of the morning, I realized the importance of starting St. Patrick's Day off right.

Playing with Kris' iPhone on the way to Clare (which Yours Truly caught up on some much-needed sleep on the way.)

Kris found a ton of these on her phone when she got it back and had a chance to go through her pictures. . .

After picking up Kris' mom, Marcy, we drove into town and realized we had nearly an hour to kill before the parade started (we were under the impression it started at 11, but it kicked off at noon.)  So, after parking at the Post Office, Kris, Marcy and the girls went down to Cops & Doughnuts to check things out. . . and Yours Truly napped some more in the front seat of the van.

The line for donuts was wrapped around throughout the store, so the womenfolk had to make do with some photo ops instead. . .

Bein' weird.

Alayna and Grandma Jordan

I think that reads 'stealing Mom's coffee.'  That would be a capital offense around our house, for sure.

'Stealing donuts.'

On the way back to the van to revive the Dad/Photographer.

Like in previous years, we staked out a pretty nice spot out in front of the Doherty Hotel.  We settled in about fifteen minutes before the parade reached us, so the kids occupied themselves by running around in the street.  Pretty much the only time of year this sort of thing is deemed acceptable in our family.

Welcome to Trump Country.

Minutes before the crowds were strafed by machine gun fire.

Walker, Texas Ranger

I'm so used to this after growing up here I find it jarring when other towns don't go out of their way to showcase their own Irish heritage. . .

Keeping the kids occupied.

This is the only time of year these guys get to ride horses and pretend they're real-life sheriffs in the Wild West.  Let them have their moment, America.

Personally, I fancy myself a Surrey or Grant Township Fire Truck man. . .

My old alma mater, now with somewhat nicer threads to march in (ours were pure shit from the '70s.)

A random float is spotted amongst the steady stream of construction equipment, emergency response vehicles, pickups with insurance company information decaled on their sides, and a slew of political candidates.  All throwing Tootsie Rolls to smelly kids.

Rep. Jason Wentworth sure is a creepy-looking dude. . .

Old Saint Patrick himself (or so I assume.)

I know I've spent the last little bit here making fun of Clare's Irish Parade, but I only do so because it is, in fact, a huge, steaming pile of man-shit.  It is NOTHING like it used to be.  Would it kill the organizers of this fiasco to hire a couple more companies of bagpipers?  Maybe require people to build more floats, or charge some kind of an 'entrance fee' to prevent every Hank, Cletus, and Buford in the area with a big ol' truck from entering the parade?  The ONLY saving grace to the parade this year was the glorious Clown Band. . .

You can always count on these guys to liven up the masses.

Hey look, kids - a pirate.

Kris is REALLY excited to see another excavating company with a big-ass crane throwing out dime-store candy to our kids. . .

Ummm. . . what the f*** is this?

Okay.  This is pretty rad.

Get it?  The hubcaps are spray-painted gold so they look like gold coins.  Get it?  'Cause St. Patrick's Day?

. . . at least it's not a township fire truck.  You have my respect, Scrapyard Float.

The Clare Pioneer.  In a kilt.  Why not.

In the Doherty after the Parade, waiting to rendezvous with the DeBoer clan.  I kinda feel like there used to be a table of some kind here. . .

Sleepy.

Grumpy.

Oblivious.

 When BP and his fam finally met up with us, I took off with them back to his parents' house so we could drop off his wife and kid before we set off for the Wolfs' memorial service.  Meanwhile, back at the Doherty, the girls were starting to get cranky with one another, so Kris and Marcy took them up to McDonald's for lunch. 

By the time BP and I arrived at the Community of Christ church in Mt. Pleasant, some 15 minutes from Clare, it was just as the service was starting.  We had to park a few blocks away (the Wolfs were loved by a lot of people - parking was insane), and by the time we got inside the church, there was nowhere to sit - or stand - for the service.  As folks were being ushered towards the service, one of the guys working the place told us that all of John Wolf's books (mostly on religion and history) were available in the Dining Room of the church, and people were encouraged to take what they wanted.  The same went for some of the artifacts acquired over his decades of world travel.  Nothing had really been picked through yet, and since BP and I couldn't find any available space in the service anyway, we helped ourselves to the plunder.  I scored four antique books in remarkably good shape (all dated between 1885 - 1907) as well as this large, elaborately-detailed Maya carving (see picture.)  After a half an hour of thoroughly casing the joint, we ducked out and headed back to Clare.  Rest assured that these treasures will be on permanent display in The Study.

After dropping me off at Marcy's apartment, BP went back to his folks' house to visit with his parents for a few hours, while the Houghs headed back to Midland.  I took a much-needed, two-hour long nap, while Kris started working on last-minute food prep and decorating for the evening's big St. Patrick's Day Party.  She had been researching Irish-themed party crap on Pinterest (of course), and whipped up a bunch of stuff like these 'Leprechaun Cookies'. . . which didn't necessarily turn out the way she thought they would.

BP and his fam came over around 5pm (I always ask him to show up early to our events, in case the first people that show up are folks I don't know well, which always leads to awkward small talk until other guests roll in.)  They brought a fruit dish (also found on Pinterest), that replicates a pot o' gold at the end of a rainbow.  'Cause Irish.

As people started arriving around 6pm, the table grew with more Irish-themed snacks and dishes.  Aside from BP's fruit tray, nothing at all healthy.

Nope.  Nothing healthy about this.

You can tell Kris is feeling festive when she adds green food coloring to her moscato.

My weapon of choice for the evening.

Kris threw up one of these photo stations for the evening, mostly for kids to use and have fun with.

Sophie and Abby

Kris wanted to make corned beef and cabbage for the evening too, so she had me prep the cabbage (which turned out awesome, but consequently stunk the house up) while she threw the beef into her trusty Instapot.  She didn't really make enough for everyone (like most of our other parties, we had about twenty adults and twenty-ish kids), but none of the kids ate it so the adults had enough.  It wasn't ready until about an hour into the party, which gave people time to get hungry.

Paired with some potato rolls and boiled cabbage, it was f***ing amazing.

Irish.

BP, partying hard.

As always, we segregated children and forced them into the basement.  Kris came up with a few St. Patrick's Day games for them (in case they got bored with all the toys, arts and crafts, and videogames in the girls' playroom/basement), like this Poop the Potato relay race.

Kids had to waddle to the bucket while clenching a potato between their legs, drop the potato in the bucket, then run back to their team and tag the next kid in line.  Not sure what the prize was.

Fancy dudes

A rare moment of co-ed partying.  For most of the night, the womenfolk hung out in the living room while we dudes hung out in the Study.

Moms.

The Johnsons

The Houghs (Alayna changed into not-at-all-weather-appropriate, non-Irish clothes half-way through the party.)

After the last of the party-goers went home (sometime around 11pm), the girls put on their pajamas and we all watched what has become a mandatory viewing for St. Patrick's Day over the years:  the Prohibition episode from Season 8 of The Simpsons (the greatest show ever made.)  SLAINTE.

- Brian