i've spent hours of my life, short and few to be honest, squatting in a patch of clover, searching for that elusive lucky one in the middle of all the normally shaped plants. just that one--searching and searching for that one, as if the rest of them were not symbolic in their own green solidarity.
***
yesterday at this time i was getting into my car, to drive to the st pat's parade downtown st paul. my sister had the brilliant idea to march in it--all you have to do is pay twenty bucks, and make a banner, and ta-da! instant parade group.
a coworker advised me that it was an "irish" parade, which meant it was a generally unorganized crush of people. in the interest of shared genetics, i believed my sister, who told me that the twenty clamshells paid for the organizers, etc, and i figured it'd be like the parades i was in as a teenager, with our high school band: lined up people, someone telling you when to march and how far back to stay from the preceding folks.
what actually transpired was more of a chaotic shuffle of people dressed in green sequins, home-made kilts, tall hats purchased at wal-mart, and irish step dancing groups in sweat suits.
the actual parade was only about half an hour long. once we got started. my family was number 106. due to the fact that it was an irish parade, we marched between numbers 57 and 93. not that we can't count. we just don't much care for organization.
i'd spent the previous night making a banner--three hours with my glue gun and a heap of multi-colored felt swatches, which turned out better than i'd hoped, including our family name and our coat of arms. if my sister emails the pic, i'll post it...i think.
at any rate, we made it to the staging ground at around 1145. we actually started marching at 110 or so. there were about five hundred people all gathered in the shade of a five-story orange brick building, with pale green trim around the windows. in the shade, it was about 25 degrees. in the sun, about 35. the difference was sublime, once we made it into the sun. i actually had an image in my head of people bursting through the imaginary line between shadow and light, coming to life and blooming. it actually reminded me of when people finish marathons, the ones who aren't crawling to completion--these would be the ones with hair swept back in the breeze of their own making, arms flung out and back, head held high, cheeks red with accomplishment.
once we got going we marched happily for the whole half hour, finding three other parade goers who shared our last name and spontaneously joined us on the route. it was amusing to have them just step in, strangers who probably shared all the same name mishaps as we did: "no, it's not pronounced that way...switch the a and the e, and you've got it...well, that works, even though it's not really right..."
***
after wards i was exhausted; we met at my sister's house for irish stew and soda bread and coffee, all of which was quite tasty. after that, i schlepped to the mall of america and shopped for two hours, came home, and collapsed. i think i read for forty-five minutes, and then, with henry curled at my side purring, i fell asleep. i don't remember turning off the light, just that my alarm clock read 9:18 pm.
***
today my face is wind-chapped. my thighs are tired; sitting here i can feel the muscles ache, a pleasant experience that reminds me of the ground i covered yesterday.
the thing i found, amid all those people, surrounded by my family, was how alone we all really are. i usually consider that on clear winter nights, when you can see every star in the sky, and feel small and dwarfed by the universe. yesterday, though, in the crush of parade, with the hogan-logan clan singing and hoisting a st patrick statue above their heads behind us, clasping my home-made banner and trying not to shiver, all i could think was that i was alone.
in the mall, the huge gaping space reserved for capitalistic spiritualism, i rode the escaltor. behind me a mother grouped her children to her, calling names and ordering them close. i pictured geese crossing before my car, goslings cuddling up to their parents.
when does it happen, the division between being a child and being an adult? being able to travel on your own, not being afraid of the big world? when does it happen that you find yourself alone, and are just as safe and comfortable as if you held your mother's hand?
***
on my way to my parking spot there was a woman walking in front of me, probably fifteen years ahead of where i am. she sported a wedding ring and from the lines on her face and the size of her purse, i'm sure she had children somewhere--college, home, out underage drinking with friends.
my insecurity lessened as i watched her do the same things i did, unconciously and conciously scanning the parking garage for potential attackers, clasping keys so that they could be used as a weapon.
from the sea of bodies we'd left behind, we separate out, we become individuals, we get into our own cars and lock the doors. the herd thins, parts, and i escape into anonymity.
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