Some wearing of the green.

 We recently passed another milestone on the calendar, a holy day for some of us of Irish heritage; good old St. Patty's Day!

My memories run very favorable as it was a celebration day in our family, at our school and community, one brimming with happiness for residents of Irish descent.

Our elementary school made it a big event, decorative school rooms all loaded with cardboard shamrocks and images of leprechauns with their pot-o-gold and everyone expected to show some wearing o' the green, even the Italian and Polish kids were Irish every March 17th.

Our school would have an evening program where all family members and friends were invited to attend.  A small auditorium packed with revelers invited to sing along as the students would take the stage doing assorted Irish skits, dancing the jig and singing Danny Boy.

I even got to sing along as a member of an Irish quartet belting out songs like Molly Malone, My Wild Irish Rose, Harrigan and our all time favorite Mrs. Murphy's Chowder (second favorite after Danny Boy. Having to say that to avoid being doxed by the Irish Community).

I often think back to my Irish ancestors wondering how difficult it must have been for them coming to America with all their hopes and dreams as the early generations struggled living in poverty, in shanty towns, working in the coal mines of Shenandoah and Tamaqua Pennsylvania knowing that dreams for their future generations would be better than what they experienced and giving their sons and daughters the hope to begin moving forward in a land that truly provided that opportunity.

As I age, I understand more of why my Irish mother would not denigrate her heritage but would insist that we think of ourselves as Americans first and foremost, and leave the past to rest because that is what she was taught by her ancestors.

These Immigrants believed that their future was in this promised land and we all needed to embrace flying the American flag proudly, perhaps displaying some green on St Pat's Day and singing the Nation Anthem loudly...and on the 17th maybe some Danny Boy.

Our ancestors believed in assimilation, working hard, learning the language and believing in contributing to the betterment of their new land.

Yes they wore and still wear some green of St Patty's Day, but the red, white and blue year round. 

Hopefully all immigrants do likewise.

It's all about the evil K word

It's Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten season as all dutiful Catholics flock to church to have their foreheads marked with ashes, in the sign of the cross, to signify their mortality and to show your buddies from yesterdays Fat Tuesday celebration that you're sorry for whatever you did last night...and maybe you're trying to change and won't repeat this behavior until next Fat Tuesday, promising God confession for this Saturday.

Ashes are usually placed on the forehead in the sign of the cross, but sometimes the person doing the application is not as skilled as others. The woman who applied mine today was quite short in stature, barely able to reach the head of a six-footer. 

I had to almost touch my toes or she would have anointed my navel. 

I didn't receive a cross, mine was just a large dot with her thumb print.

I just thought that since I was third in line she had not been able to hone her ashes skills but I watched the rest of the congregation in her line and she really had not improved.

I don't believe I saw any crosses, mostly dots, smears and commas.  I even believe I saw a question mark or two.

I any case, after Mass I was able to shop at the local Mennonite supermarket occasionally being told I had dirt on my head by kindly old ladies wearing nets on theirs.

It's customary for Catholics to "give up" something during the Lenten season. There are the usual's, candy, alcohol, smoking, not using obscene hand gestures in traffic, the list can be endless.

I quit smoking over 30 years ago, no alcohol since my AFIB diagnosis 6 years ago, candy is not really an issue but there are many other vices, too numerous to mention, that I could apply this year.

It's not uncommon to choose something that may be too easy to forego, items already avoided on a regular basis; Liver, Rap music, your crazy relative with Trump Derangement, that list too is endless.

Over a year ago my considerate, but insane wife, came up with a brilliant idea. We would watch this documentary she heard about called "Forks over Knives". In a nutshell, you give up all foods that taste good and begin a life style that will allow you to exist far beyond that of mortal men.

Just think you get to consume an endless number of tasteless delicacies and convincing yourself they are absolutely delicious while you exist for more years than Methuselah.

I think this was the original model for Hell, if not Purgatory.

Goodbye pizza, cheese, ice cream, chips, pretzels, cakes and pies...hello rice and beans, fruits and vegetables and more than enough flatulence to clear a neighborhood Christmas party.

But after all, I am told its beneficial to my Endothelium , I don't know what that is but my wife uses that word like a mantra.

Well she has been about 99.9% successful thus far..me about 75/25.

I am not telling you percentage-wise which is which, but pepperoni pizza, Freddy's custard or a good Philly cheesesteak do call to me on occasion. 

And how does one even exist without these...that in itself is sinful.

Our Popes know about sin and they have been mostly Italian because they know the best foods are Italian. The current Pope is from south of the boarder..but tacos are good too!

I now eat more fruits and vegetables than before, even salads.

The one green I still have yet to even consider is Kale, a horrid filthy weed that is not fit for human consumption, and touted by the Endothelium cultists as the most beneficial green one could ingest, even though its completely indigestible.

You can fry it in bacon grease, smother it with cheddar cheese and onions and serve it up on an everything bagel on top of an Angus burger, down it with a Yuengling lager, and a side order of fries and it would still taste like green gritty dirt...a green gritty dirt burger!

Most people are unaware of Kales blemished history.

This is how I heard it:

Many millenniums ago God walked into a bar (yes he drinks wine, ask his son if you don't believe me) and in a far corner he spots an inebriated Satan, in his usual state of being.

Satan challenges God to an arm wrestle for his booze as he is out of money and in need of some more scotch.

Well of course God wins every game and Satan, drunk out his mind, begins a tirade of how God owns everything and Satan has nothing and if he was really benevolent he would give him something he can control. 

God pondered it for a moment and told Satan he could have control of a vile weed that grows plentiful on the earth.  It's called Kale which is an acronym for Kills All Life's Enjoyment.

Instantly a light bulb goes off in Satan's brain how he could gather it up and sell it all the while convincing the gullible how beneficial it is to their well being, just like he does when he promotes Hollywood, Social Media and the Disney channel.

There will be those well intentioned folks, like RFK jr., the Forks over Knives crowd and my wife who are truly trying to help but when in comes to kale they are partnering with spiritually evil forces beyond their control. 

So I am glad I recalled that story and now know what I will be giving up for lent...Kale it is.

 

I am calling Mommy.

 I have never been much of a test taker.

I am not really stupid, my dear sweet Mama would always tell me that I was not the dumbest person in the world, that was my cousin Clem, and just hope he don't die..

Actually for most of my schooling I did quite well but never really knew how I passed into the next grade since I tended to freeze up at test time.

I eventually finished the eighth grade right before my wedding day.  Good thing or the honeymoon would take place in summer school.

I remember a typing class in high school where to pass the final exam I had to be able to type a minimum of 28 words per minute.

I was doing great up until the final exam when i scored a negative 14 per minute.

I hardly formed any words but I had symbols and numbers mixed into the sentences.

A monkey could type Shakespeare faster than I could complete a paragraph. 

That's how bad I was.

This brings me to this past weekend when the newspaper I work for gave me a final notice that I had exactly one week to complete the online course from the HR department on how to talk nice to my fellow coworkers without causing them to tear-up.

This was a mandatory test for us all and I didn't think it was meant for me because after all, I mostly work alone and from home.

I kept forwarding it to my spam folder but there it was, it popped up again telling me to get on it.

I don't know how they were able to get it into my inbox when it should have gone directly to spam.

I think my wife had something to do with it.

Well there I was taking the course and it was all the usual, don't say this, don't touch that, address them as they want to be called (which is a problem because I can't call my best friend Jimmy by his nickname "Dorkey-Porky"), I need to address him now as James or he's telling on me.

There are so many rules and regulations now I almost have to bring along a lawyer while I work to slap me on the hand when I misbehave.

In my youth we all insulted one another and if the insultee didn't like it he'd punch the insulter in the nose.  If he wasn't tough enough he'd bring along a brother or friend to help.

You never told on him to his mother or you'd be called a sissy, a term that now will get you a visit to HR with a severe reprimand, suspension or a trip to the unemployment line and no pizza on pizza day.

HR has become the mommies of the workforce.

So at the end of the course you must pass by answering 5 questions, 4 are multiple choice and 1 is true-false.

If you fail to get the correct answer you are sent back to the video that has that section to view it again and get the correct answer.

So Question number 1 appears and I thought "Well this is an easy one". I was wrong...back to the video again.

I come back and wouldn't you know it, I gave the same answer as before.

Back to the video.

This went on for quite some time as I couldn't recall what was my prior answer...I only had 4 choices and kept screwing it up.

I thought maybe if I wrote down the answer I wouldn't repeat this but I would have to go into another room to get pen and paper and the lay-z-boy was just to comfortable to make me move.

Needless to say it took me almost 3 hours that day, and that was day one.

I returned the next day to finish the test. I got 2 answers right on day one, 3 more to go.

I know this was serious as my HR department must have been monitoring my efforts.  I kept getting emails from them asking if it was really me taking this test or did one of my youngins get hold of my tablet.

They even sent one of those 12 block puzzles where you had to check off the blocks that had a traffic light or bicycle or something. to prove you were not a robot.

After 8 attempts they sent me an easy one; check all boxes with the color blue.  All 12 had blue so I finally was allowed in.

Well I had 3 questions to go and somehow I got the next one correct on the first try.

They immediately emailed me a gold star that said attaboy...keep going.

Wouldn't you know it the next question was the true-false one.

Now just think about this, if I got it wrong and had to go back to the video, I could easily get it right the second time...correct?

Nope, But I was able to get it correct after another 4 attempts.

Just then the phone rang and it was Chris, the HR department head who was either a cis female or cis male, or a trans, I couldn't tell by the husky voice. 

Chris must have been using the pronoun "they" because Chris kept asking if I was really an employee because "they" wanted to know.

I assured Chris I would complete the course within the next 2 hours since I had only one more multiple choice question to answer.

So I eventually finished and they emailed me my certificate of completion.

Right after that my Mama called.  I was afraid she was going to tell me my cousin Clem died but she just wanted to talk.

I told her all about the events of the day.

After we hung up she called Chris and gave him/her/they the whatfor.

Chris called me back and called me a sissy.

Guess what, Chris now gets no pizza on pizza day.