If you're lucky enough to be Irish, then you're lucky enough
- Traditional Irish saying
Quebec has a rich Irish history that goes back several centuries. The list of famous Quebecois of Irish heritage is long and deep: from politicians Brian Mulroney (gag!), the Johnsons (Daniel, Daniel and Pierre-Marc) Jean Charest and Paul Martin, to hockey players Patrick Roy and Patrice Bergeron, to artists past and present such as Émile Nelligan, La Bolduc, Jim Corcoran, and my beloved Kate and Anna McGarrigle (and by extention, Rufus and Martha wainwright). Consequently, Montreal has the 2nd largest St. Patrick’s Day parade in the world (after New York City), and one of the longest North American parades in continuity, having been held every year since 1824 . Why hundreds of thousands of Montrealers gather on St. Catherine’s street in the middle of winter for anything is beyond me. (Yes, it’s almost spring in theory, but it rarely actually is in Montreal.) But gather they do, bundled in their scarves, hats and fur-lined parkas. We used to go every year when I was a kid. I used to love parades, though admittedly these day I find something weirdly jingoistic about them. Perhaps I've seen too many news reports from North Korea. But I would love spotting the local celebrities who would tun out, the dancing, the pipes bands and the tacky floats (we had nothing on Mardi Gras in New Orleans). We had a perfect vantage point at the Pique-Assiette, for years one of the only Indian restaurants in the city, and one of my dad’s favourite hangouts. I'm not sure why we watched the parade from the Pique, considering it was right across the street from the Cock 'n Bull, a full out-and-out Irish pub (My parents met at the C&B in 1969, and there will be an entry about it at a later date). The owner would make Catherine and me some sort of green drink, I’m assuming a concoction of food colouring, mint flavouring and sugary milk. I have almost no recollection of how they tasted, but he would always serve them with a flourish and we would gulp then down with relish (the state of mind, not the condiment, which coincidently, is also green). This yearly tradition ended when the owner died suddenly, and I guess we just stopped going. I’m not sure, I don’t really remember. A few years later, my sister was taking Scottish Country Dancing lessons (she was really good!), and we would go to watch her dance on a float, presumably freezing her conockles off, dressed in nothing but a kilt and a smile. But it’s been at least 15 years since I’ve gone. You see, I’ve misplaced my parka.
- Traditional Irish saying
Quebec has a rich Irish history that goes back several centuries. The list of famous Quebecois of Irish heritage is long and deep: from politicians Brian Mulroney (gag!), the Johnsons (Daniel, Daniel and Pierre-Marc) Jean Charest and Paul Martin, to hockey players Patrick Roy and Patrice Bergeron, to artists past and present such as Émile Nelligan, La Bolduc, Jim Corcoran, and my beloved Kate and Anna McGarrigle (and by extention, Rufus and Martha wainwright). Consequently, Montreal has the 2nd largest St. Patrick’s Day parade in the world (after New York City), and one of the longest North American parades in continuity, having been held every year since 1824 . Why hundreds of thousands of Montrealers gather on St. Catherine’s street in the middle of winter for anything is beyond me. (Yes, it’s almost spring in theory, but it rarely actually is in Montreal.) But gather they do, bundled in their scarves, hats and fur-lined parkas. We used to go every year when I was a kid. I used to love parades, though admittedly these day I find something weirdly jingoistic about them. Perhaps I've seen too many news reports from North Korea. But I would love spotting the local celebrities who would tun out, the dancing, the pipes bands and the tacky floats (we had nothing on Mardi Gras in New Orleans). We had a perfect vantage point at the Pique-Assiette, for years one of the only Indian restaurants in the city, and one of my dad’s favourite hangouts. I'm not sure why we watched the parade from the Pique, considering it was right across the street from the Cock 'n Bull, a full out-and-out Irish pub (My parents met at the C&B in 1969, and there will be an entry about it at a later date). The owner would make Catherine and me some sort of green drink, I’m assuming a concoction of food colouring, mint flavouring and sugary milk. I have almost no recollection of how they tasted, but he would always serve them with a flourish and we would gulp then down with relish (the state of mind, not the condiment, which coincidently, is also green). This yearly tradition ended when the owner died suddenly, and I guess we just stopped going. I’m not sure, I don’t really remember. A few years later, my sister was taking Scottish Country Dancing lessons (she was really good!), and we would go to watch her dance on a float, presumably freezing her conockles off, dressed in nothing but a kilt and a smile. But it’s been at least 15 years since I’ve gone. You see, I’ve misplaced my parka.
The piper in front is my old buddy Jeff McCarthy
Love the blog. It's wonderfully entertaining and touching, all at the same time. (Blueberry Pie = misty eyes, St. Paddy's day = giggling cuz over the years I've sung, played the flute with a marching band, did some semblance of an Irish jig and made out - all while freezing my ass off in the parade) BTW I know Jeff too! Small world.
ReplyDeleteI wanted to give you something in return:
"Writing, I think, is not apart from living. Writing is a kind of double living. The writer experiences everything twice. Once in reality and once in that mirror which waits always before or behind." ~Catherine Drinker Bowen, Atlantic, December 1957
I didn't know who this wise chick was so went to check her out...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catherine_Drinker_Bowen
Looking forward to more!
X Lisa
Hello, James! I am very honoured that I somehow made it into your blog. I guess one can say we all grew up together, as some of your wacky Face friends met me halfway at the mystical Saint Helen's Island every summer for so many years. And the parties that ensued, oh me oh my!
ReplyDeleteHi Lisa, I know we have met before, were you not at CCHS?
Anyhow, was just curious to see what pictures of me were posted where and so a quick Google search yielded your blog.
All the best young fellow, and see you around!