Sisterhood of the Traveling St. Patrick' Day

Me, Mom, Barb. Note the missing teeth.

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: St. Patrick's Day. Clover, green, leprechans (all hard to envision as i look out my window here in Maine and see nothing but snow, snow, snow.) Irish pubs, parades, corned beef and cabbage, GOING MY WAY and  FINIAN'S RAINBOW.  For me, however, St. Patrick's Day has always been, first and foremost, the day I became a sister. 


My first, my very first memory is of standing in my parents' sun-drenched Montgomery bedroom, peeping into the bassinet that held brand new baby Barbara. (We called her Barbie, of course, a nickname she outgrew before high school. Now she's Barb.) Our later encounters were not so gentle; my mother has a story of the time I dragged my hapless sister in a necklock from her crib to the kitchen, announcing, "The baby was crying." Fortunately the lack of oxygen didn't cause any permanent damage. In our middle childhood, I would tease Barb mercilessly - my favorite was to shriek, "Oh no! You have garments on your back!" I like to think I was responsible for expanding her vocabulary.

She was homecoming queen. With laser eyes, natch.

I was always a little jealous of my sister. She was a beautiful child, with big blue eyes and huge fluffy blonde curls and a heart-melting smile. I had glasses and an eye patch and went without my front teeth for three years after they got knocked out. She had school birthday parties, always St. Patrick's themed, with a green clover cake (my mother always crafted beautiful homemade cakes for us) or green cupcakes for twenty. My birthday was in June, always too late for a school celebration and too early for Independence Day. (Not that I'm complaining. My mom compensated by having our annual  trip to the amusement park on my natal day.) When we were college-aged and in our early twenties, Barb never had to pay for booze on St. Patrick's Day - boys would line up to buy her drinks when she announced it was her birthday.

At the 2009 Inaugural Ball with her HH.

She's grown up to be equally enviable. She's lovely and funny and vivacious, runs a successful face-painting business (no, I am not kidding!) has three handsome boys and a husband who looks like King Leonidas in 300 (no, I'm not kidding about that, either.) I'm not jealous, though, just happy that I have such a wonderful sister in my life.

Reds, please raise your steins of green beer and wish Barbara Scheeler a happy birthday! Who are the sisters and practically-sisters who make your St. Patrick's Day fun?


LUCY BURDETTE: What a nice tribute to your sister--happy birthday Barb! I have to say my older sister, (an "Irish twin" just eleven months older), was very gracious when I came along. We shared a room for most of our years, and teased our younger brother and sister without mercy. Oh, there was the one time that she and my cousin talked me into drinking kerosene from a tap, but I believe that was a friendly mistake:). I still remember the Ipecac, which now I realize was entirely the wrong remedy. 

I have to share my favorite St. Patty's day photo, which was taken by Hallie's husband Jerry several years ago in Key West. These girls have to be sorority sisters, don't you think? Tonka was in doggie heaven....


HALLIE EPHRON: Love that picture, Lucy! Tonka is a real show stopper. Chick magnet. And he basks so effortlessly.

I do not remember when my baby sister (Amy, 4 years younger) was brought home from the hospital. My mother had a baby nurse so it made very little impact on me. I do remember being left holding her on on the couch while my mother went to the bathroom. She rolled off.

Yes, I tortured her growing up. But not nearly as much as she tortured me. She refused to play the roles I assigned her -- baby to my mother, student to my teacher, slave to my queen.  Checkers, decks of cards, Scrabble pieces invariably ended up hurled to the floor with her refusing to pick them up.  But I've always been serenely secure in the knowledge that no matter how hard or how fast she pedals, I'll always be the older one.  Turns out she got the better end of that deal, too.


RHYS BOWEN: Am I the only one who doesn't have a sister? Not fair. I always wanted one but only had a brother seven years younger than me who was a little brat who scribbled with crayon over my homework (he's now an Episcopal minister so I guess he got better with age). And St Patrick's day was not celebrated at all in England. I'm feeling deprived all around. But I've had a wonderful group of women friends all my life--my college friends, with whom I still get together, my hiking friends who are my main therapists, and my mystery friends who turn work into fun. 

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Happy birthday, Barb! Like Rhys, I have no sisters. My mother was Scottish/Protestant and so she would tell me to wear orange on St. Patrick's Day and there were no treats. I always felt a bit deprived of the "Everyone is Irish" thing — but drank a lot of green beer in college to make up for it. Now, for my son, I'm making a green ombre cake. My husband just said, "What is ombre?" And I replied, "Many shades of green." And then he shot back: "50 Shades of Green — isn't that Irish porn?"

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Happy birthday, Barb!! 

No sisters, here, either, alas. But I've been lucky in sisters-in-law; my brother Steve's wife, Dorothy, my husband's sister, Tracy, my husband's brother Jason's wife, Julisa.  Adore them all. And then, of course, there are my Jungle Red sisters!  Raising a green beer to you--as long as I don't have to drink it! (Pic is from Thanksgiving, with Julisa Gary on the left and Tracy Wilson Burns on the right, lovely sises-in law!)

JULIA: Dear readers, I hope you'll join us in birthday wishes, St. Patty's Day reminiscences, and stories of sisters in the comments section!

                        Thanks for being such a great sister, Barb. Happy Birthday!