I’m not sure my Irish roots allow me to properly celebrate St. Patrick’s Day today, even if on March 17 everyone be is Irish.

Whatever I do, I certainly won’t be drinking green beer. That just seems wrong.

My family emigrated from Ireland to Canada in 1846. Yes, Anderson is a Scottish name.

We weren’t really Irish. As I understand it, my ancestors moved from Scotland to Ireland in 1843. I won’t comment on the intelligence if moving to Ireland at the start of the Great Potato Famine, but maybe there was no choice. My brother mentioned a few years ago something about certain family members being horse thieves. I’m not sure if that was in Scotland or Ireland or both, but we didn’t continue that profession here. At least not that I am aware of.

So I can’t really pay claim to Irish heritage, and if I did I would probably celebrate on July 12 rather than on March 17, that being more in keeping with my heritage.

But today I will remember St. Patrick. He was the first to bring Christianity to Ireland (and supposedly drove the snakes from the island). And he founded a missionary movement that spread the Gospel far and wide.

Patrick lived in the fifth century. By the seventh century, Irish missionaries were telling Germans of Jesus Christ in some very remote areas of the country. I remember being impressed at how places that even today are out of the way have churches founded by Irish monks. Dedicated and driven probably best describes them.

Will I join with friends tonight in rising a glass to Patrick’s memory? I don’t think so – the local pubs will be a zoo.

But I will take the time to remember the faith of a simple man who accomplished great things for God.