Tuesday, March 17, 2009
On St. Patrick’s Day, my father always wore...
Not the fruit. The color.
When he was young, I think he rather enjoyed getting into fistfights with the wearers o’ the green.
Dad’s love of orange may explain the contrarian streak in my nature. I think I have told you before that when the whole world is advocating A, I tend to consider the merits of B. It’s not a bad philosophy to have. But you probably won’t win any popularity contests.
If you don’t know why Dad wore orange, you probably shouldn’t be wearing either orange or green on March 17th. But, hey, I’m just a voice crying in the wlderness. Far be it from me to spoil the fun of a nation of stereotype perpetuators.
[Note to the confused: If I have my history right, green was the Catholic color and orange was the Protestant color. If I’m wrong, I hope someone will let me know. --RWP]
But since it is St. Patrick's Day, you can read all about St. Patrick here.
I do like that the three-leaved shamrock can be used to teach the doctrine of the Trinity -- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit -- one God.
This does not explain the existence of a four-leaf clover.