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My father was born,
Late on the eve of St. Patrick’s Day,
Inspiring nurses to insist the babe’s name be Patrick,
To which, my grandparents laughed and chose to obey.

Decades later, 
When my parents had their first son,
Though the birth be in October,
The life of another Patrick, Pat Jr., begun.

Every St. Patrick’s Day has a special spark,
Because it is part of some family names,
Attached to cherished loved ones,
With identities inspired by the remarks of clever medical dames.

Both men are animated when they tell a yarn,
Have charisma in spades,
Are good with their hands,
And are talented at trades.

When you talk to either,
It is easy to see what is the same,
Between the two of them in how they interact,
Evidence of how special the tradition of namesakes remains.

Patricks can be the life of any party,
Their funny stories are the best,
They exclaim and use hand gestures,
Beam with pride genuinely and at the audience’s behest.

The stories sometimes involve classic cars,
Hunting trips that went bad,
Being stranded on the highway,
Hitchhiking like a Vietnam War draft-avoiding collegebound lad.

Or working outside on a project,
And meeting a politician who did not win,
Saying something quick-witted in the moment,
Once the words were out, they could not be put back in.

Some stories involved crawling under thorny rose bushes,
And riding in or watching holey canoes,
Watching the lost vessels sailing down the river,
Having to wring water out of soaked clothes and shoes.

Terrible situations made the best jokes,
I arrived to the gym parking lot and my truck was leaking gas,
“So I was a Molotov cocktail today”,
Learning to laugh at trouble helps it more easily pass.

Stories convey affection,
Sometimes in how they are told,
In who is featured and described,
In memories too precious to ever be sold.

Admitting mistakes, 
Or ignorance before,
Is great material for writers,
And the storytellers of yore.

Laughter makes light,
What may of, at the time, felt dark,
Reinvents and marinates it in humor,
Which tastes better and sings like a lark.

So Irishmen, tell your tales,
Dazzle your friends and bar mates alike,
Smile about your blunders,
And never relinquish that mic.

Retelling stories,
Can details switch,
Like the game of telephone,
Inaccuracies be rampantly forgiven, for the ears the stories enrich.

Grab your beer stein,
Or your alternative beverage of choice,
Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day joyously,
And give your humorous tales voice.
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