Tonight is the most holyiest of nights, the eve before St. Patrick's Day.
Tomorrow is one the only day of the year that I will try to get past my Catholic grudges and try to go to Church. It is the day that I will walk into St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City to a backdrop of wailing bagpipes, and light two candles for two dead men at the first statue to the right; one for my grandfather, and the other for my best friend. I will go to numerous pubs, and drink until I can't see straight anymore. It will start off in a good natured, fun way... and after many hours and many Harps, it will turn into sadness, as it has always done with me after I've drank for too long.... Why, you ask?
Because as anyone who is Irish in their soul could tell you... "To be Irish is to know that the world will break your heart."
And so we drink.
Happy St. Pat's, and "Up the Republic" for every tough bastard who gave his life for the old Emerald Isle, our home across the ocean that our families fled from so long ago.
Riamh Nar Dhruid O Spairn Iann