There was a Celtic Fair every St. Patty's day where I grew up and my mom would take me there on the flimsy premise that since it was a CELTIC fair (not an Irish Fair) and I was half-Scot, it wouldn't be celebrating a holiday.
The first time we went I was 10 and I remember there were all these pretty teenaged girls there dressed in white, dancing around a very firm, very thick may pole. So far so good... Next I noticed that most of the merchants were women in long-flowing robes who wore pentagrams and Celtic knots. Okay, should be creeped out at this point, but they seem like nice girls with normal sized noses and no warts. I eventually buy a book of Irish fairy tales and my mom a Loreena McKennit tape and we play it on the way home.
Astonishingly, my mom did not notice the may pole, the witchy outfits the merchants were wearing, or the blatantly pagan themes Loreena is singing about as we drive home. But I notice and I'm enchanted. For three beautiful years I have a secret love affair with Celtic neo-paganism and, while I never formally converted to the old religion, it did open my mind to a world beyond the Watchtower.