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St. Patrick's Day has never been a big deal in my life. My ancestors came from Norway, England, Wales and Scotland; my mother never brought corned beef into the house, and I wore orange as often as green on March 17, being a contrary sort.
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It wasn't until I moved to Chicago, home to the likes of the Daley clan, Paddy Bawler and other city machine politicos, that I realized how important ethnic holidays are to the preci'nt captains and ward committeemen.
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Of course, if I operated a retail establishment, I would be aware of the merchandising opportunities offered by such celebrations. But I certainly didn't go out searching for a camera-load of Irish symbols for this post. What I've got here is what came my way.
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The well lit house over on Park Avenue, where nearly every holiday is celebrated with strings of lights, provided a great chance to wish everybody a happy St. Patrick's Day.
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The last time pictures of this house were featured was Valentine's Day and prior to that, Christmas and Halloween. And there below is St. Pat himself, with a pot o' gold. Enjoy.
2 comments:
The folks with the green lights must have more money than they know what to do with. Retailers love it when they can get into the money making mode.
I suppose that the lights are one of their self-indulgences, just as watering plants is mine...
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