March Traditions
March brings an interesting confluence of heritage and tradition that I could claim loudly and boldly if I wanted to, but most of it just doesn’t quite fit.
There’s St. Patrick’s Day, and with all of my ancestry coming from the British Isles, including the Wallace clan, I could claim an authentic Irish birthright and celebrate with the best of them. But I never have. As a kid going to school I would always wear green on St. Patrick’s Day to keep from getting pinched, but there wasn’t enough green in my veins for my mother to kneel in front of me at the door and say, “OK laddie, if someone gives you any trouble you just give them a big Irish punch in the nose.” We never had special days when we ate Irish food (thank goodness); most of the cooking in our house and in my grandmothers’ kitchens was of the Southern/Texas variety, with some Cajun influence from the swamps of Southeast Texas.
And then of course we have March Madness when people claim allegiance to a school and a team with all their colors and traditions. As a third-generation Baylor grad (and a fourth that followed me), I certainly can claim my heritage there. But we Bears don’t have a long tradition of winning so most of us older alums don’t go crazy like they do at other schools. I don’t wear green and gold day in and day out, and I don’t have a green car with a horn that plays the Baylor fight song. I enjoy it when we win, but in-your-face fandom doesn’t fit me.
But another heritage that comes to the forefront this time of year requires no birthrights or diplomas. It also has no signature colors, fight songs or mascots. If there is a meal that identifies it, it is a pinch of bread and a swallow of wine or grape juice. There are no pep rallies, only reverent worship. The annual parade commemorates a lowly donkey ride to a trial and torture. There is no banner or flag, just an empty cross. The hero is not a little man of myth or a 7-foot center, but God himself who came down to live with us and die for us.
As with the other traditions, I don’t quite fit in. None of us ever could, but that’s okay because belonging is a gift and not something to be claimed or earned.