SHE HAD A GREAT IDEA LAST NIGHT.
We were having dinner, polishing off some leftover roast as “Pork Manhattan.”
For the first fifteen minutes there was complete silence as we stuffed our faces – then my wife, the lovely and entrepreneurially minded, Dawn, unleashed a thunderbolt of an idea.
I WAS EXPECTING A PIÑATA shaped like a shamrock. Or maybe a sheep – or even a potato, but the perfect image for Cinco de Mayo in Ireland seems to be this.
While St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated around the world, including Mexico, with parades and festivals, Cinco de Mayo doesn’t get much play in Ireland. While the Diaspora planted Irish souls in almost every country on earth, the cross pollination of Mexicans into Ireland has never reached major numbers.
FOR THOSE PEOPLE WHO ARE IRISH, have Irish ancestry, wish they were Irish, believe that they could be Irish, or just behave like they are Irish – today is the biggest, best, most misunderstood, most regretted the next day, and hard to explain to the non-Irish, day in the year.
St. Patrick’s Day or how a nice English boy came to Ireland under duress, and eventually convinced a pretty wild bunch of characters to accept Christianity. And all of this before Guinness brewed his first pint.
Down the Hall on Your Left 