I never thought I would march in New York’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Yet, there I was among the blaring bagpipes that echoed across 5th Avenue’s skyscraper canyon. The high school bands. The kilts. That undulating sea of green that swarmed like ants through the city. For a brief moment — a break in the swarm — I was part of it. The pomp and circumstance. The Irish pride. The cop yelling, “Let’s go, people! Get across that street!” Run! Run! Run!