A ST. PATRICK’S DAY MEMORY

 Here is a memory I rekindle this time every year.

                                     DOWN NECK ST. PATRICK’S DAY PARADE

                                                                A NEWARK EVENT

During my youth I lived in a section of Newark, New Jersey referred to as the ‘DownNeck’ Section of Newark. The area was also known as the Ironbound Section due to the many factories in the area. The title ‘DownNeck’ was acquired, which I once read, due to the shape of the Passaic River running past the area. And on the Sunday afternoon, nearest to St. Patrick’s Day, the residents of this area and my street, Christie Street, were treated to what had to have been one of the shortest St. Patrick’s Day parades in existence.

The local Catholic Church sponsored the parade, whose steeple I could see from my parlor window. Across the street from my house was the parking lot for the Balentine Brewery’s trucks.  Weekdays were filled with the rumble of Balentine Brewery trucks set on the mission to quench the thirst of a parched city. Sunday was a day of rest for the trucks, making the parade possible.

Magically, sometime before the parade, a green line appeared down the center of our street, harbinger of the gala event. I never witnessed this line’s creation, but every year it materialized. At approximately 1:30 in the afternoon the residents began to gather on the sidewalk. Since the brewery and Catholic Church’s school took up one side of the street, the number of residents was few. Of course, there were always the annoying boys riding their bikes down the center of the blocked off street before the parade began.  I was proud to be one of their number.

The parade began around the far corner from my house, on Market Street. With a band, not a school band, but one made up of adult men most of which had almost mastered the instrument they were assigned.  Before the band came a few ruddy-faced Irish men, decked out in their top hats, waving to the minuscule crowd.  At the front of this procession were the parish priests.  The parade was half a block long and took thirty seconds to pass.  The procession turned the corner onto Ferry Street, melting into the Down neck neighborhood, ready to continue the tradition next year.