My family is not Irish. My mother and her siblings all have (or had) red hair, so everyone assumes we’re Irish. We’re not. And we’re not Catholic. So St. Patrick’s Day doesn’t hold any special place for us, really.
Except for milk.
When we were little, my mother would put green food coloring in a gallon of milk. Green milk! Because, the logic was, on St. Patrick’s Day you’re supposed to eat green food. (I’m sure we ate green beans or peas or something that was supposed to be green, too.)