|
|
|
|
A great day for the Irish |
|
|
Monday, 24 March 2008 |
|
Green is my favorite color. This probably stems from my Irish heritage, which has come front and center this past week during several St. Patrick’s Day observances.  Norma (Clark) Grabowski, formerly of Benton, marches in the parade with members of the Red Hat Society. Twenty members of the Hot Springs Fillies and Rip Roaring Red Hats participated.
And there’s also the fact that I’m a redhead. Green is “in my color palate,” as someone who used to “do colors” would say. Even when I feel bad and I am as pale as Casper, when I put on bright green, it helps.
The first event that really got me in the spirit of the holiday occurred at Herzfeld Memorial Library, where Weesa Boyd and other members of the Arkansas Celtic Music Society presented a program of Irish tunes during Toddler Time. I went there, expecting to take some pictures of cute children listening — or more than likely NOT listening — to the presentation.
I was wrong. These kids — most dressed in green — personified the adage that “everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day.” They clapped, they sang, they jumped, they danced. They had a wonderful time, as did I.
The music was charming, and the kids’ enthusiasm was contagious. I was thrilled to find a real Irish celebration in Benton, where, I have to say, they have been sadly lacking.
My spouse didn’t realize how much of an Irish lass he had married until our first St. Patrick’s Day together. He was awakened that morning when I sat down at the piano and began playing “She’s Just a Bit O’ Blarney,” the theme song from the Irish operetta I starred in my senior year in high school.
I hadn’t thought of the song in years, but that morning it was fresh in my head and I just had to sing it. It’s unfortunate that I didn’t still have the green and white costume I wore — the one that sent my mother into nervous spasms because Mrs. Graham had made the neckline too plunging and cleavage was verboten for “nice girls” at that time in history. There was no time to redo it before the show. It was only because Mamma’s consuming desire to see her daughter perform lost out to her prim-and-proper adherence to modesty that I got to wear it.
I hail from a long line of Parnells — including my great-grandparents who came to this land from the Emerald Isle — and I can say unabashedly that I love St. Paddy’s Day. I always dreamed to be in New York to attend the big parade or — here comes the dream of dreams — the one in Dublin on this holiday.
New York hasn’t been ruled out as never-will-happen event, though it’s doubtful, but it’s a safe bet that I won’t get to a parade in Dublin or any other city in Ireland — on St. Pat’s Day or any other day. But I have been to a great one on my favorite holiday this year, and it’s only a little piece up the road.
This was Hot Springs First Ever Fifth Annual World’s Shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade. And if you’re like me and haven’t been before, you need to mark your calendars now to make it next year. It’s absolutely delightful and so much bigger than you’d ever dream without the firsthand experience. Thousands of people descended on that small area of the Spa city where fun, frivolity and everything green converged.
I knew about this event, but, hey, I’ve been to county fair parades and Christmas parades in Benton. I enjoy them, people work hard to make them happen and I appreciate the effort. It never dawned on me that Hot Springs could pull off anything as spectacular as a St. Pat’s Day parade with related events that really rock.
Grand marshal was Mike Rowe of the Discovery Channel’s “Dirtiest Jobs” show, which meant little to me since I’ve never seen it. He was well received by those who do follow it, and it’s good to know somebody noteworthy was willing to come. Last year’s grand marshal was Mario Lopez, who is within my knowledge base.
The main point I’m trying to get across is this event is FUN. And it’s right up the road. If you want to have a good time on St. Paddy’s Day, this, pardon the grammatical slip, is where it’s at.(!) It’s the proverbial gold at the end of the Irish rainbow.
I saw more green than I’ve ever seen in my life — people in green, green floats, green cars, green tractors — even the dogs in the parade were tinted green, which I’m not sure I approve of entirely, but I don’t think the animals cared and I think it was done with a harmless substance like food coloring.
Freddy Burton, with granddaughter Paisley in tow, lost whatever inhibitions he had and hitched a ride, uninvited, on a float in the event.
The two of them, with the beauty pageant “light-bulb” wave in action, rode for about half a block.
Ironically, I didn’t know this was happening and found myself thinking, “The man on that float looks so much like Freddy.” Then it hit me.
Standing next to Freddy’s grandson, I shouted, “Hey, Jax! There’s your Pappy and little sister!”
Historic Bridge Street in downtown Hot Springs, the official parade route, is historic on its own. It became famous in the 1940s when Ripley’s Believe It or Not designated it “The Shortest Street in the World.” Having earned this distinction, the Hot Springs Convention and Visitors Bureau wisely deemed it the most logical location for this novel parade.
Embellished with green fireworks, Elvis look-alikes and Irish belly dancers, the parade takes on a Mardi Gras-like atmosphere because the beads and blarney (and a lot of other things) fly with abandon.
St. Patrick’s Day started as a celebration of the the patron saint of Ireland, who is credited with bringing Christianity to that country 1,600 years ago. Here in this country, our celebrations are uniquely American. The holy day is associated with parties, parades, leprechauns, green beer and Irish whiskey.
I’ll still take iced tea or Dr Pepper, but you can trust me when I say I have just as much fun as any green-beer-drinking person you’ll find.
It was a great day for the Irish and the pseudo-Irish. The parade was officially over when the Fun City Barbershop Chorus Trailer sang “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” down on Bridge Street.
At that point our bunch was standing on an overhead parking lot that overlooks Bridge Street. I encouraged the people around me to join in the song, but not one did — except me. And I wouldn’t have missed the moment for all the green tea in Ireland or anywhere else.
I didn’t check, but I had spotted a couple of Irish Elvi down below. I’ll bet they were singing along.
Lynda Hollenbeck is associate editor of the courier.
This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it
or
This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it
|
|
|
|
Razorbacks