The untroubled ambiguities of Irish life really used to annoy me. Since the time I moved here in 1992 and had to rely on a careless Dublin shipping company to help track the transatlantic passage of my freight container from Cape Cod, I've let fly against the laid-back Irish mentality.
As I see it, these woolly ways come in many forms, ranging from the trivial to the serious. The list includes non-existent or misleading road signs; a decided lack of interest in certain areas of law enforcement (notably where corporate corruption and traffic regulations are concerned); and fuzzy-headed notions about political neutrality (which have yet to win me over). But with another St Patrick's Day on the horizon, I've come to think that the best way to avoid lifelong irritability is simply to "go native".
As an example: When I first arrived here, I was amazed by the extent of the litter problem. Carelessly discarded debris - candy wrappers, soft-drinks bottles and cans, newspapers, cigarette packets, plastic bags - blighted the landscape, both in cities and around the countryside. And for variety's sake, there would be the occasional burnt-out car, clapped-out washing machine, or sprung-out sofa thrown into the mix. With the introduction of a waste disposal charge, the problem seems to have got worse. Illegal dumping of household trash as well as industrial rubbish is increasing.
The echoes of a successful primary school anti-litter campaign still ring in my ears, so I'm committed to finding a proper outlet for my own wrappers and bottles, not to mention whatever household debris I'm unable to recycle. But as for seeing someone else's rubbish nestling in tree branches or bobbing along in small rivers, it doesn't faze me anymore. (Nor many other people, it would seem.) In my eyes, excessive litter is now part of the "natural" Irish landscape.
I have undergone a similar conversion where traffic laws are concerned. Chronic double-parking? As I've observed, an Irishman in control of a motor vehicle is an obstruction waiting to happen (and yes, that's me too, on occasion). Unsecured loads on the backs of speeding lorries? The only solution here is to outmanoeuvre them, since the police seem unperturbed. And how about unthinking drivers who barrel down local streets at school time, with children and parents alike crowding the sidewalks and sometimes slipping on to the road? Again my reaction is: it's all just part of the way things work here. Without a garda in sight, I'll keep my own child safe and hope other parents do likewise.
On the lighter side, constant tardiness is regularly cited as a kind of genetic Irish flaw. Nothing starts on time in Ireland - according to the popular truism, anyway - and latecomers are allowed to charm their way out of any difficulty, or fall back on their reputations as amusing eccentrics.
I am neither a charmer nor an eccentric but, like these self-styled "characters", I no longer get unduly worried if I'm going to arrive late for an occasion. I simply pull out my "Irish card" and remark jokingly to those I've kept waiting: "Sure, I'm one of ye now!"
Of course, there's a fundamental reason for my going native, and it has to do with size. In a society as small and interwoven as Ireland's, every transaction eventually comes down to the personal level. Tip O'Neill was right when he said all politics was local (and none more so than the Irish variety).
It is no small coincidence that in years past, the city governments in Boston, Chicago, and New York were all a little bit shady, and all a little bit Irish. By which I mean, deeply involved on the personal level, with favours exchanged for votes (and power) as a matter of course. Irish politicians - the successful ones, anyway - don't do the "vision" thing.
That's why a zero tolerance campaign on law-enforcement (or indeed general tardiness) will never work here. Sooner or later, such an approach will affect you, someone in your family, or someone you work with - in other words, decent law-abiding citizens who deserve to be cut some slack.
To some of my compatriots my live-and-let-live attitude might suggest a picture of near lawlessness. Superficially, perhaps. Below the surface, Ireland enjoys a degree of social cohesion that other countries might learn from. But you have to live here - rather than just study how the State's statute books are applied - to appreciate it.