What St. Patrick's Day Means to Me

Friendship, loyalty, and love. Those are the meanings behind the Claddagh ring–I have three. My first ring was given to me by my dad about eight years ago. We visited Indy Irish Fest as a family and he got one for me, my two sisters, my mother, and my wife. He got for himself a ring with a Celtic sailor’s knot design, which represents eternity, or a bond that cannot be broken.

The second Claddagh ring I gave to myself for my 30th birthday. It’s a non-traditional Claddagh, with a black onyx backset.

My most recent Claddagh came from my trip to Ireland last fall. This ring holds special significance to me because it was purchased in Galway City, which was where the symbol was first created in the 17th century. This ring incorporates the sailor’s knot and the Claddagh symbol. The knot is white gold, and the Claddagh is yellow gold–which matches my two-toned wedding band. In fact, I sometimes stack those two rings.?

Because of their themes of friendship, loyalty, and love, it’s a common misconception that a Claddagh ring must be given as a gift, that you can’t purchase one for yourself. But the two I bought for myself mark important milestones in my life, and they represent a tangible way to connect to my heritage, rooting me in a shared history, to something bigger and beyond the nuclear family into which I was born.

Another common symbol in Ireland is the Tree of Life, which represents life, death, and rebirth–a common theme in Irish and Celtic symbolism. It also represents family. Despite the beautiful imagery, my family tree isn’t nearly that simple. My father’s father, Mr. Hazelwood, left when my father was very young, and my grandmother later married a man named Mr. Baker, who adopted my dad and changed his name. A few years later, he ended up leaving as well. Biologically, I have no connection to the Baker family; my two sisters are no longer Bakers, and considering I have only daughters, the Baker name seems likely to end with me.?

I never met Mr. Hazelwood, who passed away years before my birth, and I only met Mr. Baker once. Nearly all of my dad’s aunts, uncles, and cousins had passed away by the time I was born. While I know the names of those who came before me, can pick faces out of sepia-toned photographs, and can recite a fair amount of family history, I don’t have an emotional connection to much of it.

When I think about my family tree and its history, I’ve often felt like the last leaf on an old, grizzled limb. It’s almost as though my father’s side of the family doesn’t exist to me, and that’s why I place so much value on the ideas represented in these symbols and why I proudly wear them every day. It’s a way of connecting to family and history I never knew.

My dad recently asked about my trip to Ireland, "did it feel like coming home?" And I told him, yes–the moment I laid eyes on the countryside as we were flying over it, I felt a deep connection to the land and its people. There was a quiet serenity that came with sitting on a dirt path overlooking the sea to one side, and rolling verdant hills on the other, with no one around you for miles. There’s such a joy and magic to the land, but also a deep, shared memory of so many sorrows from the not-so-distant past.

I often think of an interview I did with a Jewish co-worker; we were talking about Israel, and I asked her why so many American Jews, who had no connection to Israel, felt so drawn to it, and often make it a priority to visit. She told me that it was a way to connect to their shared past, but also, for so much of history, Jews didn’t have a place to call home. To finally have a home, whether a Jewish person had a personal connection to it or not, was powerful. I never really understood that answer until my first night in Ireland, writing in a pub over a pint of Guinness, when it all came into focus. I was home. For the first time, I felt connected to more than just my immediate family members. I was part of something bigger. A living history.

To visit Ireland is almost overwhelming. To see and touch structures that date back to pre-history. To visit castles that were built in the 1100s. To see modern glass skyrises. To drink in a pub that is older than your nation. To see the origins of the fairy stories and understand what Lepreuchans actually mean and represent. To see the evidence of extreme human suffering and labor as you look out over the countless miles of stone “famine walls” that subdivide the land. To know that all of this happened, and somehow, someway, it all led to you sitting in front of a computer in the year 2022 is almost too much to consider.

Working at a Jewish organization, and because of the nature of my work, I have learned a lot about their culture and history, and this year, the Jewish holiday of Purim and St. Patrick’s Day are on the same day. Both days are for celebration, to come together in fellowship, and to celebrate triumph. Both cultures understand the importance of honoring and remembering those who came before. They both know sorrow. They both know what good food, drink, and dance can do to lift people even in the worst of times. And they both know that no one person exists by themselves.

Almost every Jewish person I have interviewed for a project has described themselves as “a link in the chain,” connecting themselves to Jews both past and present; they see themselves as but a small part in a greater shared history. This is what my rings mean to me. This is what being Irish means to me. When I see the Celtic sailor’s knot on my ring, or on my dad’s ring, I feel part of a connected history, and a shared future. When I see the heart, crown, and hands of the Claddagh, I don’t just consider the love, loyalty, and friendship of my family, but the love, loyalty, and friendship of people–all people–on this blue marble.

On this St. Patrick’s day no doubt many people will be out celebrating with green beer and whiskey, and I wish them the best, but for me, I will spend it thinking of those who came before me, what they endured to bring me to this moment, and what it means for me to be Irish every day and not just on March 17th.