St. Patrick’s Day is about family
Perhaps it’s a silly holiday, more an Irish-American invention than a true tradition from our Celtic cousins, but St. Patrick’s Day in my family is about getting together, eating corned beef and cabbage, and sharing memories of our father, who died 15 years ago today. Throughout our childhood, our father joyfully celebrated the day: he wore all green—from his socks to his boxers, shirt, necktie, and even the cap on his head—and with it, he instilled in us a sense of pride in our identity, our shared roots, and our loyality to each other. Dad was often heard to say: “There are two kinds of people, the Irish and those who wish they were.” (Mind you, he was born in Boston.) When we discovered he had passed at home early in the morning of March 17, 1993, his green clothes laid out for him to wear that day, we decided to bury him in his greenery, which I know he would have thought cool. Today the Boston Herald published a tribute to my dad, but since I can’t link to it right now, I’m reprinting it here:
“In Loving Memory of Daniel J. Doherty: January 19, 1915-March 17, 1993
It’s been 15 years since our dad died, and every St. Patrick’s Day we are reminded of the man who taught us to fight for our beliefs, take care of our family, and be loyal to our friends. Dad was proud of his Irish ancestry, being a townie, and watching out for his “guys,” a lifelong career that took him from longshoreman to business agent to ILA pension and welfare coordinator. Today, as we celebrate one of his favorite holidays, we remember him with love.”
On a final note, as my 15-year-old son (who never met his grandfather) left for school this morning dressed in green sweatpants, green shirt, and green sweatshirt, I couldn’t help but smile to see that this part of my dad lives on in him. Éirinn go Brágh!