Irish cheer parades through Edgartown

A little (more than a little) rain didn’t dampen the wearing of the green.

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Updated March 18 at 5:30pm

When parents of little kids looked out their windows this past Saturday morning, in anticipation of taking the tykes to the Edgartown St. Paddy’s Day bash, many of them may have turned to their spouses, kids, and even their indolent pets sprawled against the pillows, and declared, “Let’s sleep in today!”

The situation was this: The rain was steady and unending, turning the sky, bare trees, and ground a still more determined steel grey. Our landscape resembled a typical day in Ireland, host country of this special celebration. So the question became, would anybody show up?

But show up they did. Not in the usual crowd-mania amounts, but enough to make this the happy event it’s been in all four years of operation. The event is hosted by the Kelley House in Edgartown, and hotel manager John Robert Hill was pleased that troopers of all ages turned out for the gala that starts with a mercifully brief parade at the Edgartown wharf.

Mr. Hill and assistant manager Robyn Joubert led the gathering at opposite ends of a giant wooden nickel on wheels — wooden nickel as in “never take one.” In past years, attending families have brought along their collies, labs, spaniels, and cockapoos in green ribbons, green cockade hats, and green plaid vests. On this rainy day, however, pooches were wisely left at home, but plenty of tykes turned out, and since when have kids ever felt inconvenienced by wet weather?

Inside the original restaurant, now the dual-level entertainment space of the Kelley House, the full splendor of the event unrolled. Every table held a complement of artwork, including green paint and ornaments to be decorated, which this reporter mistook for cookies until she bit into one and found it strangely salty and inedible.

Staffer Elizabeth Rothwell passed out strands of green beads. Ms. Rothwell reckoned more than 50 kids had shown up, a goodly amount to party hearty, kindergarten-style. On the varnished dance floor, D.J. Shizz (a.k.a. Mona Rosenthal) sat at her computer blaring out her special mix of “Family Dance-a-Rama.” A flock of wee ones took the music and the unobstructed floor as an opportunity to run, jump, crawl, and snatch at green, orange, and white balloons, but one illustrious 3 year-old, Demyen, in green pants and yellow boots, snapped out his legs and boogie-woogied his head in a style that suggested he’ll be a future Macklemore.

The grand marshal of the St. Patrick’s Parade and Party, John Murray of Edgartown, presided in a green cap and a gold-and-white vestment. Mr. Murray, whose Dublin accent lends credibility to his annual role, leads the parade every year, accompanied by his now 11-year-old son, Ryan, looking his part in a green bow tie with green suspenders. The grand marshall says that back in the Old Country, St. Paddy’s Day was customarily more solemn and church-oriented, although nowadays they’ve picked up the festive vibe from America, and the parades are much goofier, and the iconic pints consumed in greater numbers: “The holiday is always marked by a traditional meal of ham and cabbage — here it’s corned beef and cabbage.”

Meanwhile, at nearby tables, Grace, 9, Caroline, 8, and Sarah, 4, visiting from Cambridge, and lucky enough to have a granny in Edgartown, worked to paint green ornaments on white paper plates. Sarah looked classically Irish in a pale green and white polka-dot frock, her blond locks held high in pigtails. Moon-faced and bright-eyed 19-month-old Juniper strolled by, decked out in a tricolor green-orange-white tee designed by her auntie’s company, New Jersey Knits.

The most striking — unofficial — award for St. Patrick’s attire goes to 7-year-old Nova of West Tisbury, whose mom, Amelia, found a wig of emerald-green tinsel in a trunk from her Irish grandma. Meanwhile, roving lights in the same green, orange, and white Irish trifecta played across walls and children’s costumes. Pinatas in the shape of shamrocks were thwacked by lines of kiddos, some of them too young to render more than a slight tap, others sending showers of goodies to the floor, and in turn inviting youngsters to fall on the booty with shrieks of joy.

A more sedate grownup event was on offer in the Kelley House lobby, involving tea and coffee and cookies. But what about the bursting shamrocks and disco-decibel dancing demons? Uh, no. The fun was here with the young lads and lasses.

A St. Patrick’s Day celebration would not be complete without a brief historical footnote: No, the shamrock-bearing 5th century preacher did not, in fact, rid Ireland of snakes after a 40-day fast on a high hilltop, for the simple fact is — according to naturalists, and what do they know? — that the post-glacial Emerald Isle never did provide habitat to snakes. Also, ironically, St. Pat has never been officially canonized by a pope. Sixteen centuries of veneration by hundreds of millions of Irish people — including Irish people and friends of Irish people gathered at the Kelley House — confer a sainthood of their own.