St. Patrick's Day pride

We are poised at the beginning of St. Patrick's Day weekend... yes weekend this year, just like all the other great holidays we celebrate. A weekend of Irish pride and more. And why not?

I went to St. Patrick's school as a kid. We proudly wore green every day, shirt and corduroy pants. We knew St. Patrick tamed the heathen in the country he came to call home. He drove out the snakes. He explained the burning issue of how there can be three persons in one God by using the simple illustration of the national flower of Ireland, the shamrock.

There were a few facts in that last paragraph. He did a number on the heathen, and he used a shamrock to teach. The snakes? No.

I think if I were ever captured as a kid, and enslaved as Patrick was, I would have been angry. I may have sought revenge if I ever dared to go back. But Patrick, after having been a slave for several years, did go back to those who enslaved him, not to exact vengeance, Rather he embarked on a mission to change the lives of his former captors. This was not an easy thing to do. When you start talking about freeing all slaves, and letting the women be free to join the nunnery, the chieftains got more than a little upset. Maybe this is where the Irish get their moxie, their chutzpah, their pride. This Patrick, staring the elders in the face, and, to use a modern phrase that comes from old testament times, saying "Let the people go." He wrote a letter to a brigand named Corticus demanding that he free some men whom he had enslaved. Corticus ridiculed Patrick, who would not back down from his demand, and Corticus was excommunicated. Powerful, guy, that Patrick. It is hard to determine the effectiveness of the action, but Patrick stood his ground.

A real cool tidbit about Patrick is his own proud ancestry. His father was a deacon, but his grandfather was a bishop. I wonder what would happen if the men who are bishops and priests today had legitimate sons and daughters. Would there be more men and women like Patrick, ready to stand up for the right things; really on the side of the down trodden and the poor. Would there be a kinder and gentler approach to all people, an appreciation of all that is beautiful and good in everyone.

I think we need more people like Patrick, men and women, straight and gay, of every persuasion. We could use more humility to accompany our pride of being a scion of St. Patrick.

Someone has forgotten

In a couple of weeks, I am taking my first plane trip in several years. I will squeeze it in before the "new" TSA regulations go into effect which allow pocket knives and other items that are lethal on the plane.

Apparently pocket knives that have been part of life as we grew up are not considered a threat. We used to play with them as kids, and the play could turn bloody quickly, and unanticipated. None of us tried to kill each other with a pocket knife, nor were we ever threatened with one. They could be sharpened with a stone, good enough to whittle, gouge holes, puncture tires, and now we are getting into some serious stuff.

What is the difference between a finely honed pocket knife, a sharp razor, or a box cutter? To a person, intent on doing harm, there is none. All of these, even when you are shaving, aimed at the throat or the jugular, pose a threat to life, to hostage taking, to bringing down an aircraft. It was not a bomb that caused the horror of 9/11, but the box cutter, that is still banned. Box cutters that were smaller than the knives TSA are proposing to allow passengers to carry in a few weeks!

I will get my flight in before lethal "weapons" often used for play are allowed on board like golf clubs, hockey sticks, whiffle bats, pool cues, etc. Where will people put all this stuff anyway. It should go into baggage.

When I travel, I like to relax. It is important to feel safe. Flight attendants try to assist with this. As the first line of defense in an emergency situation, such as dealing with an angry passenger, they will certainly have more things to worry about. Although you never know when someone is going to snap, it is better for all of us not to have access to even small or foolish weapons in a closed compartment. Some rules have been in place for a long time, and passengers have gotten used to them. Why can't the TSA just continue to say no. Have we forgotten?

To quote my son: " Never Forget? I don't think so. Seems like it only takes about 12 years for people to forget,"

Not the Carousel

Round and round they go. Some are up, some down. Colorful, fanciful names for each. Moving counter-clock wise. Oops! One breaks away from the others, and moves quickly around the elliptical track, catches up to the others, and tries to break through the pack; tries again, and another way, and another yet, and eventually is in front of the pack again.
A mysterious type of carousel; actually a roller derby bout as the Troy Hellions took on th Green Mountain Derby Dames at the Rollerama in Schenectady Saturday evening. Baby Nuclear and Bloody Knuckles Betty alternated as Jammers for the Hellions, breaking from the pack, attempting to lap members of the opposition, who in turn tried to impede the jammer from passing any  of the  Dames. The blockers  for the Dames had names like Evbyn Slapt and Strawburried Jam. It was a night when the Hellions could not win. The jammers for the Dames, Teminate Her and Nancy Nightmare overwhelmed the home team as they skated the 130 foot oval at speeds over 10 miles an hours. Disharmony and Haidee Hellhound and the other blockers could not prevent that dynamic duo from outscoring the Hellions 220 to 110.
The bout as they call it in Derbyland lasted about an hour, two thirty minute periods, and a rare timeout. The clock kept running most of the time, thank goodness. Five players at a time per team. Eight referees, including Lethal Injection and Malcom Sex, each with a whistle,( and they used them,) kept order. Anne Persand, a person who I know in an another world as a talented  creative artist and author, was the referee leader. They  could penalize the players if necessary so that there were fewer players than refs on the floor at one time. Despite the almost constant body contact, the only injury that kept anyone from continuing for the evening was to a referee. They had to skate one person down for the rest of the evening.
The Roller Derby has its rules. The program attempts to spell them out. A commentator, Eloda Sarcasm, delivers a blow by blow description of the bout. Despite these efforts to inform the crowd about the "game", perhaps "show" is a better term, the attendees seemed to have trouble knowing when to get excited and cheer. Baby Nuclear waved her arms to the audience as she circled the track attempting to draw them in as she made a run at the opposition to score points. It worked a little.
I think for the most part, the audience was new. The atmosphere resembled a country fair. People moving about, talking, paying scant attention to the action; kids running here and there; a contest for the little ones at half time; photo ops; nachos and cheese dip. The jam timer did what might be described as tai chi during the time outs, perhaps portraying what everyone else thought "When will this end?  What am I doing here?"

Bob Donlan Photo

So what was I doing there? I didn't go just to have something to write about. Rather a friend is about to begin a "career" with the Hellions. I think they need her. She requested my presence, and several other of her inner circle. So friendship made me go.
I will share with you a line from the program that seems incongruous with the whole scene of Roller Derby as described above, yet it is at the heart of the action in the modern Derby:

" It's the DIY foundation and love of the sport that keeps these local librarians, nurses, artists, analysts, students, sales associates, and any other profession you can think of, coming back week after week and bruise after bruise."

It was one more new experience as Fabulous Fill travels the back roads of culture.