St. Patrick and the Peace Flag: a long history

The old saying “The best-laid plans of mice and men oft go astray,” a Scottish proverb linked to 18th Century poet Robert Burns, was apropos for my St. Patrick’s Day plans for promoting peace at this year’s parade. The weather forecast for single digit wind chill temperatures scuttled my plans.
I have a “complicated history” with the parade, which I first tried to step into in 2012. I was looking for a good place to join the parade that started out at East 18th Street and Superior Avenue.
When I saw students from Borromeo Seminary carrying a statue of the Blessed Virgin on a small platform, I thought, “Perfect! I’ll walk behind the mother of the Prince of Peace.”
A few seconds after unfurling my peace lag, the organizer of the parade pushed me to the side of the road, since I was not on the roster of participants. I walked on the sidewalk toward Public Square, holding the peace flag aloft to catch the breeze.
I avoided that unpleasant experience in future parades by stepping into the event out of sight of the organizer.
One year I noticed the Cleveland Vegan Society carrying a banner with a peace symbol, so I walked in front of that group, with no repercussions.
Another time I noticed two priests carrying a banner that read “Diocesan Holy Name Society”, so I walked with them.
One of the priests was Father Tom Haren, former pastor of St. Monica Parish in Garfield Heights.
I figured no parade marshal would try to shoo me out of the parade if he or she saw me talking with a priest. If that happened, I would say to the marshal, “Excuse me!! Father Haren is hearing my confession!!”
I missed the two most recent parades because of an arthritic hip, but now I have a new hip thanks to the Cleveland Clinic.
Three years ago, when I last tried to get into the parade, the organizer, aided by two police officers, muscled me to the side of Superior Avenue seconds after I unfurled my flag.
I said, “I’m using my first amendment right of freedom of speech!” One of the officers said I didn’t have that right that day and told me to walk on the sidewalk, but I walked in the street by the curb so spectators could witness my peace message. If I had walked on the sidewalk, observers would have their backs to me, and most would not see my message.
Fast forward to this year’s parade.
I planned to walk from Public Square to East 18th Street, but the bitter cold wind disabused me of that notion. My plan was to walk in front of the parade rather than join the parade.
I made it to East Ninth Street (known as Erie Street when John D. Rockefeller was a young man living in Cleveland).
While standing across from St. John the Evangelist Cathedral, I noticed a priest in white vestments greeting people leaving his mass.
I crossed the street and stood in the church’s vestibule, waiting for the priest to finish talking with a few people. When he was free, I said, “Father, do you think Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, the Prince of Peace would like my flag?”
He paused a second and, tapping my chest once said, “He is more interested in your heart than your flag.”
I should have said, “There’s peace in my heart, too”.
The priest did say that he supported non-violence.
To limit my exposure to the cold, I walked to the Drury Plaza Hotel and sat in the lobby until about 1:30 when I walked out to where the parade would end near the Old Stone Church on Public Square.
I waved to parade participants as they walked by with several thanking me for my service. On a few occasions I said, “Wasn’t my idea. I got drafted. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do.”
A few people took my photo, and I encouraged them to circulate it as much as possible
A teenage girl asked if her friend could take a photo of the two of us and of course, I agreed. Then, surprisingly, the girl asked if she could kiss me on the cheek. Naturally, there was only one answer to that question.
A few people walking in the parade stepped over to shake my hand. One man said, “What do you think of the war in Iran?”
“HORRIBLE!!,” I said. “There is lots of money in war.” He said, “Thank you!”
I asked a Cleveland policeman if he was a war veteran. He said he wasn’t and I said, “Lucky you. You saved yourself lots of tears and grief. I was in Vietnam for a year. Not a walk on the beach.”