Posted in Modern Mythos, Pop Culture

Let Me Be Franklin, and Other Fourthed Puns

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Hello, America.

There’s been a lot of scuttlebutt over the past years over our favorite founding fathers, not least because of a little musical you probably haven’t heard of called Hamilton.

But that underground musical misses out on one of my childhood favorites: good ole Benjamin Franklin.

Contrary to his startling resemblance to the bald eagle, this turkey-loving man made his own richer, more privileged patriotic story in our little baby nation with a thirst for freedom. So today, I’m going to walk you though my earliest cultural memories of Benny Frank, matched with what else we know about him today.

As a child who had never seen a $100 bill except in movies, my first introduction to our friend Franklin was through a book: Ben and Me by Robert Lawson.
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The story itself is nothing special. I think the writer just one day said to himself, “What if you could be a fly-on-the-wall in the life of someone important, like Benjamin Franklin? But let’s make it cuter: a mouse in the pocket or something.”

Boom. Payday. Disney even ended up making an animated short based on the concept. Now that’s a job well done!

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Next up, we have another blast from the past: a little television show called Liberty’s Kids.

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I loved this show. In fact, I still love this show, and not just because Aaron Carter makes an appearance to rap part of the theme song.

In fact, prior to Hamilton, I based the majority of my knowledge of early American history off of this show I watched when I was nine, including my knowledge of Benjamin Franklin.

Franklin is the linchpin of the television show. The main characters all work at his printing press in Philadelphia, acting as reporters while he’s off gallivanting in France. We still check in with him from time to time to see how negotiations are going, but mostly he acts as a friendly father figure to his young charges.

Through a few mini-games, we also learn some of his famous aphorisms: an apple a day keeps the doctor away, and so on and so forth.

And the final piece of the pop culture puzzle: National Treasure.

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Remember: this is not a “good” movie. It’s a fun movie, to be sure, sort of an American History knock-off of The Da Vinci Code, sans John Cusack. Pop in for Nicolas Cage, stay for Sean Bean and cross your fingers that he survives past the end of the movie.

In this movie(and eventual series of movies) filled to the brim with historical references, where does our good friend Ben pop in?

In arguably one of the best sequences of scenes of the entire movie, Nick Cage and his crew go to Philadelphia(remember, that’s Frankietown) to read the Silence Dogood letters. Franklin, of course, wrote these letter, under a false name, to put in his brother’s newspaper after his brother wouldn’t publish anything he wrote.

No matter which century you’re from, siblings are always the same.

The letters lead Cage and friend to the tower of the Liberty Bell, though at first, the group thinks they may be too late to discover the all-important clue.

And then comes one of my favorite Franklin facts: Benjamin Franklin was one of the first people to propose a sort of Daylight Savings Time.

Technically, he didn’t really come up with it, despite how it works into the plot of this movie, but it’s close enough for me to bless his name every fall and curse it every spring.

In fact, poor old Ben is quite often an easy victim of misattribution. As much as the internet loves quoting people, it loves misquoting them even more.

In the end, Nick Cage gets his clue and we as the audience are rewarded with these stellar sorts of screen caps as he uses Franklin’s magic glasses to solve the rest of the puzzle.

Image result for national treasure ben franklin

In general, it can be strange to look back later on the figures of your childhood and match them with the Wikipedia entries of what people know about him today.

George Washington never chopped down that cherry tree. Thomas Jefferson cut up his Bible and slept with his slaves. And Benjamin Franklin advised us all on how to fart proudly.

And there are a lot of other things to admire about Franklin that most Americans today fail to acknowledge. For example, he was an extremely outspoken abolitionist, who wrote pamphlet after pamphlet about this mistreatment of African slaves and their rights as human beings to live freely.

But we remember him most for his clever sayings and key on a kite string.

So this Independence Day, spend some time getting to know the historical figures we claim to know. Some of them might even surprise you!

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Posted in Pop Culture

The Long and Short of It, Starring Vine

Six seconds is all it takes to reach the pinnacle of comedic genius.

There seems to have been a resurgence in the past year or so regarding this decade’s most cherished and underappreciated art forms.

That’s right, I’m talking about vines.

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It’s not that Vine wasn’t popular before Twitter announced the discontinuation of the app in October 2016; it was, to a certain finite point. But thanks to the addition and creation of vine compilations on platforms like YouTube, it’s now easier than ever to waste three or four hours on a weeknight purely devoted to six-second videos.

What a way to go, though.

And now, with last December’s announcement of a probable Vine 2.0, there’s more incentive than ever to “get down with the kids” and watch something that really “butters your eggroll.”

I am sorry in advance.

Like I said, this isn’t really a new development. I think it’s mostly been on my mind because I’ve realized over the past few months that this isn’t one of my weirdo obsessions like watching foreign TV shows or framing memes within the context of art history.

This short-form and vine renaissance is actually pretty normalized.

Now, there is no shortage of content when it comes to the dissection of short-form entertainment. Most people are familiar with Ernest Hemingway’s famous six-word story:

For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.

Never mind that there are dozens of ways to interpret it, because every version still tells a story. And that’s the point! Telling stories! In unique ways!

When I was taking classes for my journalism degree, it was common for the first sentence of an article(aka the lede) to be less than twenty words, often less than ten. It saved time, saved space, and helped develop my concept of “tight writing,” for whatever that’s worth. The goal is simple: give your audience what they need to know so they can read as little as possible.

Of course, this isn’t limited just to writing. Saturday Night Live has cornered the television circuit of quick comedy for decades with their pop culture vignettes. Other shows like millennial favorite Portlandia built on this platform(there’s a reason it stars SNL alums) have shared in its success.

YouTube elevated the idea of short-form comedy even further with the birth of the viral video. Short, snappy, and infinitely shareable: the telltale hallmarks of an instant hit.

Which, of course, leads us back to Vine.

One of the worst(and possibly least #relatable) feelings of the modern world begins with showing a close friend an entertaining video. You spend the first thirty seconds waiting for the content to REALLY start. Then you spend the next thirty staring at your friend’s face, waiting for them to laugh. By the time that the video is halfway over, you’ve lost all hope of their respect for your sense of humor.

Or at least, that’s what your anxiety is telling you.

One of my favorite things about vines is how it whisks most of their insecurities away. It’s only six seconds! A tenth of a minute! Virtually no time is wasted(unless you get on a roll, in which case, revisit scenario outlined about 500 words above).

Take, for example, one of my all-time favorite vines from Drew Gooden:

Please tell me you laughed.

Like most jokes, there are several layers as to why I, at least, find this funny. First, the fact that it’s infinitely relatable and repeatable. As a Michigan resident, I am quite familiar with road construction season, and I see these signs everywhere. Second, the ignorant indignation of the character speaking never fails to make me smile. Even the weird camera angle(which was probably more accidental than anything), suggests that this driver is missing the point.

And here’s the place in the conversation where usually somebody(probably from an older generation) who points out that entertainment today is all about instant gratification. There’s no wait, no build-up, no payoff. People want to laugh, and people want it now. Where’s the expectation in something like that?

To which I shrug and say: meh. There’s nothing particular noble in longer artforms like the 27 hours of Gone with the Wind; just because you’re patient doesn’t mean you’re longsuffering. I will say there is a certain elegance to that style of storytelling, but that as in the era of the Iliad and the Odyssey, those elements are tried and true. Short-form storytelling is where the innovation is occurring, at least for right now.

So as for Vine 2.0, who knows what to expect? There’s no guarantee it will live up to the legacy of its predecessor, whether in name or in deed. What is certain?

I’m gonna go watch some more Vine compilations. Like this one. And this one.

You’re welcome.

 

Posted in Modern Mythos, Pop Culture

“Ain’t” Valentine’s Day, AKA The Best I Could Do

About a year ago, I wrote a blog post about Ireland’s favorite saint, good ole Patty, for a certain spring holiday.

So this year, I thought I would cover another figure full of holiday cheer(plus, living like an adult has pretty much zapped me out of ideas so: reduce, reuse, recycle): St. Valentine.

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Ah yes, the man who is literally at the heart of the Hallmark movie channel’s second-favorite holiday(right behind Christmas, of course). St. Val might be capitalism’s favorite saint, as he gives millions of people excuses to buy items for their significant others(or discount candy for the lonely ones on February 15).

Everyone and their little brother hears the story of St. Valentine when they’re in elementary school. Imprisoned for his faith(which may or may not have included performing wedding ceremonies), he heals the blind daughter of his jailer to show the power of God. Though St. Valentine is martyred anyway, he leaves the girl he healed a note, signed “Your Valentine.”

Not really the romantic comedy of the year, cinematically-speaking.

So where did we get a holiday full of naked baby angels from a tale of martyrdom?

Honestly, scholars are as stumped as a Brazilian rainforest. But there are a few theories.

  1. Will the Real St. Valentine Please Stand Up?

Similarly to St. Patrick, historians aren’t too sure about which Valentine to whom all of these stories refer. In fact, there are eleven total saints named Valentine in the Roman Catholic Church, three of whom have strong connections with the date February 14. Though the story of St. Valentine supposedly takes place in Roman, records are few and far between to support these statements.

So you can see where some of this confusion lies.

2. Even to the Feast of These

According to documented church history, the feast of St. Valentine was set in place by Pope Gelasius I around 496 AD. Concerning Valentine, he supposedly included him in a list of church martyrs “whose names are justly reverenced among men, but whose acts are known only to God.”

Nice words, to be sure. But Gelasius may have had an ulterior motive.

You see, there was another festival in Rome that took place on February 15 named Lupercalia. For anyone who didn’t take Latin in middle school, or has no concept of J.K. Rowling’s wordplay in the Harry Potter series, “luper” connects to the word “wolf,” although even earlier sources connect the festival to the word “februa,” meaning “to purge,” from which we get(you guessed it) our word for February. So what’s up with the wolf festival?

I am SO glad you asked; this is what I live for.

Based on the Roman empire’s favorite founding fable, the festival of Lupercalia took place in the cave where Rome’s founder Romulus and his twin Remus grew up, mothered by a she-wolf all the way into adulthood. It also featured the worship of everybody’s favorite goat god, Pan, in exactly the way you’d expect.

Running through the streets naked, hitting women and children with whips as they passed.

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Move over, Fifty Shades; there’s a new circus in town.

The “purpose” behind Lupercalia was not simply worship-based, either. The purging of Rome took place in the form of driving out evil spirits and restoring the health of its inhabitants. End result? Fertility. Lots and lots of babies.

Needless to say, Pope Gelasius was not a fan of such orgies. So, as the story goes, he established a church holiday, the feast of St. Valentine, to replace Lupercalia in Rome and throughout the empire.

Now, to be fair, scholars seem to have largely discredited Pope Gelasius as the founder of St. Valentine’s feast, but you’ve got to admit, there’s a lot of similarities between the Lupercalia of ancient Rome and the Valentine’s Day of the present.

But wait! There’s more!

3. Seynt Volantynys Day

The first piece of historical evidence that we have to credit for the romanticizing of Valentine’s Day comes from everyone’s favorite Middle English poet, Geoffrey Chaucer.

As Chaucer wrote in Parlement of Foules:

“For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.”

Translation for those of us who know how to use autocorrect:

“For this was on Saint Valentine’s Day
When every bird cometh there to chase his mate.”

This poem was written to commemorate the first anniversary of King Richard II to Anne of Bohemia. And there’s only one glaring problem with connecting it to the romance of our modern holiday.

Valentine’s Day is February 14; the anniversary in question isn’t until May 2.

Plus, birds aren’t mating in England in the middle of February; it’s hard to shake a tailfeather when it’s still snowing outside.

Turns out, there’s ANOTHER feast of St. Valentine, this time of Genoa, that generally took place on May 3.

This is one of the issues we come across when we try to dissect oral traditions; the whole truth of this holiday probably lies somewhere between the pretty stories we’re told as children and the mass confusion of scholars everywhere.

But do pretty stories even affect the spirit of the holiday? Even with a “holy” founder like St. Valentine, this upcoming holiday mirrors the Lupercalia of ancient Rome more than one of Chaucer’s feast days. Do we hold all myths as myths, or do we reject them outright, bound to celebrate as the rest of humanity does whether its origins are true or not?

Whatever, just don’t run naked through the streets this month, that’s all I ask. Not in Michigan, at least, it’s way too cold.

Happy Valentine’s Day. ❤

Posted in Pop Culture

When Someone Loves Their Curvy Wife

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I’m not comparing Jabba the Hutt to somebody’s wife. Just so we’re clear.

What I am doing is responding to a harmless Instagram post from a few weeks ago, courtesy of this guy.

I’m sure most of us can agree that this man means well. Look at the post he wrote! He loves his wife! He wants everyone to know it! Even you, random citizen!

But here’s the thing that gets me: most people love their wives.

I mean, they do? That’s why they married them; that’s kind of how marriage is supposed to work.

And the truth is, most women are bigger than you(or the media) would expect. Remember: the average American woman is a size 16. Take that, America’s Next Top Model(just kidding, I love you please never leave me again).

As our man calls it, that’s “curvy.”

So, if you do the math, that means that in all probability, the average husband loves the average wife.

Grass is green.

The sky is blue.

Thanks for the update; can’t wait to learn more obvious facts tomorrow.

Again, I’m actually pretty happy for the guy. He seems to be genuine in the emotion behind his statements – but again, he misses the point completely, and in doing so, creates more harm than good.

Because the way he talks about it here, it sounds, like, he kind of is comparing his wife to Jabba the Hutt, or something thought equally grotesque(though, as I’m sure Diego Luna could tell you, there is a place for that).

Understand: he never calls her gross. Or undesirable. Or anything remotely mean. He calls her beautiful. But as he does so, he reminds you that some people don’t share his opinion.

Pointing this out not only justifies him, it makes him seem extra special.

What? A conventionally attractive white male? Defying society? Loving whom he will?

It’s like a mediocre romance novel.

And it’s also a great example of the classic backhanded compliment, a way to remind certain women that if they find someone who’s genuinely attracted to them, they’re still the exception, not the rule.

Those things don’t “happen.” Not outside of Hollywood movies.

And it seems like he supports this hypothesis. You can see that it’s less about what he says and more about the way he says it.

I hear things like this all the time.

“The way that dress is cut looks great on your figure.”

“All the right curves in all the right places.”

“-womanly hips-”

Most people still mean well, but you can hear all the things they’re trying not to say.

“Most things don’t look that good on you.”

“Some women look more like men.”

“Others are just plain fat.”

But the way they say it, I can tell that I’m not included in these statements. Not me. No, I’m valued. I’m treasured.

But I’m also extremely lucky.

And it’s true. I’m healthy. I’m active. I don’t have to buy my clothes online, or in a special section of the store. People never stare at me on the beach.

I’m the exception, not the rule.

But like I said earlier: the average American woman is a size 16. And a lot of them are married. And loved. And living lives that are completely fulfilling regardless of what people think is naturally attractive.

Frankly, the idea that someone even needs to use social media to spread some sort of message of beauty is pretty ridiculous(pun intended). Even if beauty was the number one desire of every person on earth(and believe me, it’s isn’t; survival probably ranks highest on that list), Instagram is not the place to find it.

Plus, think about that average woman again. The proof, as they say, is in the pudding(ah, pudding).

Here’s the crux of what I’m trying to say: curvy, big-boned, plain old fat women don’t need social media to them they’re desirable. Or people for that matter, no matter what the intent.

They can see it with their own two eyes.

No one should be an exception. Each person is a portrait of an incredibly living and loving God, who is bigger than the entire universe, and no amount of sexual or romantic attraction can add or take away the value of that, no matter what society tells us.

So yeah. This man loves his curvy wife.

I love myself.

This changes nothing.

Though we did get some great memes.

Posted in Modern Mythos, Pop Culture

A Persephone-Cation of Spring

And the grand tradition of opening puns continues.

Over the past week, I have been marveling at the miraculous transformation that takes place in Michigan in the springtime. Trees that were bare one day may be budding by the next. Animals emerge from their hidden winter homes, of all kinds: I have seen birds, squirrels, swans, skunks, raccoons, muskrats, even turtles and toads.

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The world is still beautiful on rainy days.

Everyone I meet makes jokes about the weather.

“Seems nice today – but wait twenty minutes!”

or

“Is this Michigan, or Tennessee?”

You know what I mean.

Which made me think about the ways we’ve personified spring in our cultures. Some places suffer from nearly constant rain(April showers bring Mayflowers, and all that). Other places may already feel like summer. And yet, around the world, even in different hemispheres, we experience the same cycles of birth and rebirth, of winter’s death and spring’s new life.

This picture of death meeting life reminds me, obviously, of the myth of Hades and Persephone. For those of you unfamiliar with Greek and Roman myths, let me break it down for you: one day, Hades, the god of the Underworld(not death, though that’s a common misconception), was taking a little day-trip up to the mortal realm. While there, he sees Persephone, a beautiful demigoddess, daughter of the goddess Demeter. Hades pulled a standard creeper-move and kidnapped Persephone(though I’m pretty sure there were no windowless vans involved), and dragged her down to his palace in the Underworld.

Demeter, of course, notices that her daughter is missing, and goes all Mama Berry on Hades(she’s the goddess of agriculture; get it?) She demands that Persephone come home immediately, young lady! Everything looks like it will go back to normal, except for one small mistake.

Persephone ate some seeds.

To be fair, pomegranate seeds are delicious(I have a roommate who will attest to this). But would Persephone have eaten them if she knew they would sentence her to a splitting her time between a control-freak mother and a kidnap-krazy husband?

I wonder.

In any case, due to Persephone’s habitual snacking, Demeter and Hades reach a compromise. Persephone will spend half of the year in the Underworld with her new husband, and the other half on earth. This is why fall and winter always look so sad: Demeter misses her daughter. Then, in the springtime, they reunite as the best mother-daughter team ever and make the world beautiful again.

This story has stuck with me for several reasons. First of all, I’ve always found Persephone lack of self-control #relatable. Secondly, I’ve often considered Demeter to be more manipulative and controlling then the myths give her credit for. But also, it’s this idea of compromise, that we must wait through the winter in order to reach the spring. There’s a life lesson in there that can be hard to come by, let alone accept.

Whenever I picture spring, there are two things that come to mind. Firstly, “For the Beauty of the Earth;” I’m a sucker for a classic hymn. But I also think of this sequence from Fantasia 2000 that my family had on VHS as a kid, featuring Igor Stravinsky’s “Firebird Suite.”

The complete metamorphosis of the landscape gets me every time.

And it brings me back to my own life. At the point I am writing this, I graduate from college in nine days. My life will undergo a radical transformation, and it’s one that I am eager to start. There is comfort in knowing that things are born, and reborn, new and renewed, in cycles. Where I am today is not where I will be tomorrow, and that’s an exciting prospect.

Now is not the winter of my discontent; now is the anticipation of spring!

 

Posted in Pop Culture

Oh, Thank Frog: The Meme Trinity

This post comes with a prelude: a semi-recent conversation with my friends unearthed some intriguing insights into internet meme culture.

Now, you might not be as meme-fluent as we are(Let’s face it, memes tend to be a weird millennial thing that people in “real” life sometimes have trouble understanding). But it’s okay: I’m gonna break it down for you.

So this conversation arose from a dialogue concerning frog memes. As in, more than one. As in, there are three very popular frogs in meme culture, and each signify different things.

They have been dubbed by some(meaning me) as the Meme Trinity.

First, we have the classic Pepe.

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For those of you unfamiliar with meme history, let me further elaborate. Pepe is the creation of American artist Matt Furie; he appeared in Furie’s web comic titled “Boy’s Club” in 2005. Over the next few years, his Pepe character appeared in various forms, especially on 4chan. Pepe rose to even further popularity in 2015, when the concept of collecting “rare Pepes,” or rarely seen versions of the Pepe meme, spread across the internet.

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Unfortunately, Pepe has also recently been adapted as a meme for some racist political views. It’s okay, Pepe; we know it’s not the real you.

Next, here comes Dat Boi.sc552x414

This is another weird one. Dat Boi emerged from a short animation clip of, you guessed it, a frog riding a unicycle.

That’s it.

That’s literally it.

It’s a frog, riding a unicycle. No other context needed.

(Though, to be clear, the animation was developed for a physics textbook. Why can’t all textbooks have built-in memes?)

And the final piece, to complete the meme mythology: Kermit memes.

And really, Kermit the Frog represents two different mainstream memes, so this might almost be cheating. First, there’s the classic Kermit sipping tea meme, aka “But That’s None of My Business.”

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And then, there’s Dark Kermit.

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This is one of those unique cases where the subject of the meme, Kermit, is already known to us. We know he isn’t real; we know he’s a puppet. We even know that he’s in love with a pig. But none of our previous experiences with Kermit the Frog prepared us for his influence on meme culture.

Which naturally leads us into that overwhelming question: why? Why are there not one, not two, but three predominant memes featuring frogs? What’s it about? WHAT’S WITH THE FROGS?!

Simple answer: they’re freaking everywhere.

Here’s a map of the world’s distribution of frogs. Feast your eyes.

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In other words, frogs are #relatable. They are on every major, habitable continent, and most islands(sorry, Greenland and Iceland). I don’t know about you, but I certainly have my share of frog stories. For instance, I once shoved a frog carcass the size of my arm down a storm drain to hide its dead body from a group of 4-11 year olds.

Good times. Good times.

But even more than that, these frogs represent another dimension of meme culture, one that you should know I’m quite fond of: absurdism.

First, we have the collection of rare Pepes. Some of us might save our favorite memes for later, maybe even print out a few for the sake of an inside joke, but for the most part, our “collections,” so to speak, are entirely theoretical. Memes are digital: they’re never going to disappear. How many times have we heard it said: “if it’s on the internet, it’s there forever.” Memes, it seems are here to stay.

Then there’s Dat Boi.

Oh, shoot.

Waddup.

There is no reason why a frog needs a unicycle. Or would be on one in the first place. They hop, for goodness’s sake. Put them on a pogo stick or something. Why a unicycle?

But therein lies the humor. Dat Boi needs no unicycle, but there he is. All we can do is just accept him.

Which brings us full-circle, back to Kermit. He’s a puppet. He’s entirely controlled by the whims of others. The idea that he operates under his own volition, choosing to mind his own business, is beyond ridiculous; this is then tempered by the idea that Kermit can fall prey to the persuasion of others.

Of course he can.

He’s a puppet.

But we relate to him. We feel the same pull to the darkness. We spiral out of our own control. Or is it simply the pull of what we really want? Is it finally taking control?

To be honest, I don’t know.

But that’s a lot of subtext for a couple of frog memes.

 

Posted in Modern Mythos, Pop Culture

Knick-Knack, St. Patty’s Back!

It’s almost spring. The snow is gone, the skies are blues, the rivers are green. Time to celebrate the season with everybody’s favorite saint: that small guy with the lucky charms who lets you pinch your clueless friends.

Wait a minute. I feel like I’m confused. Who are we talking about, again?

St. Patrick, of course, but the story of his life seems to have been so editorialized that it doesn’t seem far-fetched to imagine him as the green-hatted leprechaun of Saturday morning commercials. For the sake of history, let’s review what we know about him, besides all the clover stories.

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Let’s go back to a simpler time: the turn of the 5th century AD. When he was fourteen or sixteen years old, Patrick did not sit around and play video games like some young men we knew. He was captured by pirates and sold as a slave from his native Britain to the island of Ireland(which, believe it or not, will not be the plot of a Pirates of the Caribbean movie, though it totally should be). After six years, he escaped and returned home, choosing to become a Catholic priest before going back to Ireland to convert its people.

In other words, he was a missionary, and a good one at that. To this day, most of the island of Ireland remains loyal to Catholicism, not to the nearby rule of the Anglican church.

From there, most of us are familiar with his legendary exploits: frolicking in clover fields, banishing all snakes, turning sticks into trees, etc. And his influence still stands today: all hail the seasonal Shamrock Shake.

But history is complicated, and St. Patrick is no exception.

You see, no one is really sure who St. Patrick was. We don’t even know if that was his real name. In fact, evidence also points us to the idea that who we know as St. Patrick could be a combination of early church fathers from Ireland.

Which brings up an interesting point. Modern Christianity, by and large, operates under the assumption that the people we learn about in Bible class and Sunday school are real, living people with real, living faith. There is very little confusion about their names and their actions: even figures like that “most excellent Theophilus” have at least attempted explanations.

Sainthood is another story. So many of their histories are passed down through stories that are more like legends than factually-based accounts. Historians have enough trouble trying to piece together what really happened in those times without having to verify the miraculous claims of early Christian figures.

Now, with St. Patrick, at least we have some writings that seem to prove his, or at least someone’s, existence. It almost certainly was not the same as what we, as a culture, have regarded it to be, but that doesn’t make it have any less of an impact.

Still, it strikes me as strange that even 1500 years after his death, we celebrate his life with irreverent behavior and color-coded wardrobes. I think that if St. Patrick could see what we do in his name, he’d be very confused. Almost as confused about that whole snake thing.

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All this to say that these days, St. Patrick isn’t much different from Santa Claus in terms of his editorialized past. Next time you see a “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” shirt, remember that he was British.

But always keep in mind: some things do make better stories(and yes, I’m still talking about the snakes).

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Happy St. Patty’s Day.