My parents sometimes had a party to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, and the house would be filled with friends and relatives. The smoky kitchen was always standing room only and it was where all the music happened, all the singing of Irish songs. My dad comes to mind, and I can see him standing by the sink, cigarette in one hand, drink in the other as he sang along. My uncle fancied himself a Bing Crosby sound-alike and knew the words to every song. My mother’s friend always sat on the bench along the window, and I never saw her move from there until it was time to go home. She sometimes asked me to make her a drink. She called me Kathleen. My family had great parties.

My mother always made corned beef and cabbage. One year the potatoes, my dad’s favorite, disappeared. They sort of melted away. My dad couldn’t believe there were no potatoes and went looking in the pot himself. He didn’t find any either.

My dog Shauna, another Boxer, and I were at my parents’ house for St. Patrick’s Day, Shauna’s first. My dad adored that dog and she adored my dad and followed him everywhere, about a step behind. To celebrate that first St. Patrick’s Day my dad made Shauna a plate with corned beef, carrots and potatoes. She ate every morsel.

Today I’ll wear green. Tonight I’ll celebrate with my friends. We are, of course, having corned beef and cabbage.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!