I have had the experience of viewing a Saint Patrick's Day Parade winding down the canyons of NYC. It was not my exclusive intention to drive into the city to attend the parade, rather I had other business and decided to investigate for myself the sort of set up my American-Irish 'cousins' create. I lingered behind the police barriers for a whole ten minutes and took in the shiny emerald plastic hats, the tricolors, the screams and cackles and, of course, the pipers in their green tartan kilts and taselled stockings, a tiny gap betwixt revealing slivers of lily white knees as they marched onward. Everyone seemed to be having a jolly good time, though I think I've listened to far too many foot-stamping traditional Irish flings, ballads and jigs back home to get any sort of kick from them nowadays. (I will also add I've reached a similar stage with fellow country woman Enya's solo attempts at layering and layering and layering synthetic instruments and variations of her voice onto her musical tapestries. I was captivated by her music at one time, but God she really needs to give herself permission to move on creatively. I mean, imagine reading the same plot in a novel but with different characters and places for fifteen straight years. Her music's 'sameness' now relegates her to the same storage slot in my mind as Val Doonican and his version of Irish kitsch.)
As I turned away from observing the parade that day, I couldn't help pondering why the NYC Irish Gay and Lesbian organization is fighting so doggedly to march in the thing. 'Be careful of what you wish for,' is my advice.
Finally, I thought I'd link to last year's post about being authentic on the day of green. It's relevant, the truth, and, er, Irish-Irish
[technorati: Irish, Enya, Val Doonican, St.Patrick's Day, NYC Parades, Irish Americans]