Today may be chilly, cloudy and grey but the sun always shines on St.Patrick’s Day, even proverbially.

I am wearing my shamrock earrings and my deep green Ryan sweatshirt. We played Irish music on our ukes this morning. I sang along. I was loud and festive and off key. Neither Henry nor Jack cared.

My relationship with St. Patrick started when I was a kid in the first grade. I attended St. Patrick’s Elementary School and would for eight years. We always had St. Patrick’s Day off from school. Boston’s official commemoration for today is not St. Patrick’s Day but rather Evacuation Day which celebrates the evacuation of the British from Boston during the Revolution but don’t be fooled. It is St. Patrick’s Day. Ask anyone.

For years I marched with a drill team called St. Patrick’s Shamrocks. We even had a woven shamrock in the centers of our uniform tops. We wore green and white. I remember marching in the St. Patrick’s Day parade in South Boston. It was usually cold. Sometimes a few of the parade watchers offered to march with us. Usually a bit of drink prompted the offer. We’d politely refuse and keep on marching.

My mother made corn beef and cabbage for today. Her giant pot was filled with meat and vegetables including turnips. I always think of turnips as an Irish vegetable. The Irish used to carve turnips with scary faces to ward away jack-o’-lantern who nightly wandered the earth because he was not allowed into Heaven or Hell. It always seemed a bit odd to me as turnips are so darn difficult to peel. I have scars from peeling attempts.

I am celebrating today with Irish music and corned beef and cabbage with all the fixings including Irish soda bread. I have a green shamrock plant sitting here on the table with my St. Patrick’s Day cards. Henry is sporting his green collar. I’ll share a bit of dinner with Henry and Jack, but only a bit.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!!!