Don't Tell Me About St. Patrick (part 1 - by Margaret Ullrich)

Remember how we were all gaga about the dawning of the Age of Aquarius?  

I mean, even if you didn't know enough Astrology to know your own sign - let alone what house you were mooning - you couldn't avoid Hair, the song, play or movie.  And everybody saw the 5th Dimension on the Ed Sullivan Show.  Remember how they just stood there, swaying and singing When the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars, then peace will guide the planets and love will fill the stars?  

Ok, Janet Jackson it wasn't.

So who are Aquarians?  

Kim Novak, Vanessa Redgrave, Jeanne Moreau, Mia Farrow, Carmen Miranda and, the comeback king, John Travolta.  We're talking a major sign here.

Some people poo poo all this but I think we'd better start paying attention.  This is a new millennium and cosmic forces are just itching to find any teeny tiny hole where they can get a toehold to shake things up on dear old planet earth.  

No kidding.

Take St. Patrick's Day.  I'm from New York where St. Patrick's was like Christmas.  Everybody - no matter where they came from - sat down to a corned beef and cabbage dinner on March 17.  

Hey, nobody was dumb enough to not notice all the Irish cops, carrying billy clubs, pounding down Fifth Avenue in the St. Patrick's Day Parade.  

Trust me, you didn't want to make a New York cop mad.

For decades I used an Irish Soda Bread recipe that I'd clipped from The New York Daily News.  

Then, like everybody else, I discovered Martha.  Ok, she's Polish, but she had a humdinger of a recipe.  I watched her teach it to some Irish lady who said, "Faith and beggorah!  'Tis better than me own sainted Mum's recipe."  

When I heard the 'Tis word, I was hooked.  

I downloaded the recipe from Martha's website and everything went tickety boo.

Until Martha got convicted.

Well, that shook everybody up.  

Her stock took a tumble and you could've shot a cannon through the department store aisles where her household items were gathering dust.  

Frugal housewives were clipping Martha Stewart labels from towels and sheets.  

With visions of mad cops marching in my head, I thought it wouldn't be kosher to whip up a loaf of Martha's Irish Soda Bread.  

Back to the computer.

Part Two