Top of the holiday to you

It's not easy being green, but on this day a green article of clothing is not only a necessity but a joy.

Today is the day I turn my boring old sunglasses in for a pair with shamrock frames. Today is the day I substitute my reporter's notebook for a four-leaf clover and a pint of your finest green lager.

Today is St. Patrick's Day, a holiday this reporter looks forward to all year long. Some say St. Patrick's Day is just an excuse to drink copious amounts of alcohol. That's not completely true. In addition to spreading the luck and joy of shamrocks and leprechauns, this day is about drinking copious amounts of green-colored alcohol.

But St. Paddy's Day is about more than just drunken revelry. It's a day for those of us who have Irish in our blood — and even those who don't — to celebrate.

I will tip my leprechaun hat to the naysayers out there who feel obliged to wear the requisite color for fear of being pinched. But I must say I have never seen another holiday where the shamrock-sized smiles were not limited to just a handful, but found upon every person celebrating this holiday.

The true meaning of this holiday may be lost in the past, the fact that St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland is typically only mentioned in passing. But the lost meaning comes out in the toasts and the laughter of all who work to keep the Irish part of them alive.

I didn't really appreciate the magic of St. Patrick's Day myself until I saw thousands of determined souls crowd into the streets of Butte, Mont., to watch a parade go by on a winter morning. March typically still means snow in Butte, and the mercury had barely risen above 20. But those streets were full of the hardy.

In Butte, about one-quarter of the people consider their home country to be Ireland. On St. Patrick's Day, the Irish population swells even higher, primarily because everyone considers himself an Irishman on this holiday of holidays.

I'll never forget seeing that parade for the first time. It's the only place outside of Indiana where Notre Dame alumni have their own float, between the Montana Tech marching band and the Budweiser Clydesdales buggy.

I've had the good fortune to spend St. Paddy's Day in this town on two occasions. On my first visit to the St. Paddy's Day mecca, I noticed the smiles and the good luck, everyone seemed to be having a grand time. I also noticed the shamrock-themed accessories atop the heads and around the necks of both young and old. The one trinket that stands out in my mind the most were the fingerless hobo gloves that proclaimed that the wearer had spent this holiday in "Butte, America," as it is often named by Montanans. These visitors were excited to be part of the celebration.

Had I the chance, I would likely be in one of Butte's cigar stores today, enjoying a hot plate of corn beef and cabbage and a pint of lime-dyed Guinness.

But alas, I will see no parade this year. But that doesn't mean the revelry will stop for this leprechaun. I will take my green hat and red beard to the pub for a meal. And somehow, somewhere, this lad will devour a helping of corned beef and cabbage. For today I will toast to my new home, and work to spread the luck of my family name. A green-dyed lager may also hit the spot.

Brad Gary is the county reporter for the Columbia Basin Herald, and he tips his hat to all on this holiday.