St. Patrick's Day

In honor of St. Patrick's day I'm going to talk ancestors. I recently had ( an Irish friend) mention that this time of year she feels a tad bit more smug because she is actually Irish. The phrase Everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day is one of those wonderful contradictions that is. Admittedly many of us who are Irish all agreed we all feel the same way. We get a tad bit more smug in March because we have a claim to being Irish "for real". Admittedly we all realized this was very childish..... I mean it's not like we win a prize or that we get free green beer on the holiday. So exactly why is that we can be a bit more smug at being "real Irish" ? The mixture of the group and the level of Irish wasn't important and we certainly didn't take it that far in our "school yard" contest. Although thinking about it now all of us trying to determine who was more Irish would have just been the cherry on the childhood game now wouldn't it. I fully admit I become more smug at St. Patrick's day about the fact I have Irish blood. I'm not even Catholic. I remember when I was a child my mother would mention my Irish bloodlines.... My father would often joke that he was going to wear orange & purple instead of green for Saint Ulru ( I have no idea who this is or how to spell it) According to my father ( I would take this with a boulder of salt) the "saint" was the patron saint of the Protestants and should be just as honored. I often wonder if this is the Orange Order and the flag of Ulster... but one never knows with my father how accurate his stories are. At the time we didn't think my Father's ancestors had any ties to Ireland at all...so he could have just been stirring things up.... I say that with an impish twist.

We always wore green and I loved St. Patrick's day because it involved green and spring and it meant that soon flowers would bloom the sun would shine and we might thaw for a short time ( I lived in very cold climates as a kid). I have papers to show that indeed I have Irish blood and not just any Irish blood.....Related to Michael Collins. I guess my Great-Great Grandmother was a cousin. Later it was found that my father's family was not only Welsh but tied to a clan in Scotland ( the Gunn clan) but had ancestors from Ireland as well. Now my smug child side says well, if anyone wants to question the authenticity of my Irish heritage I have it from both sides of my genetic pool so nan nanana boo boo. What does this mean ? Not much other than I am a bit more smug in the month of March because in fact the tinge of red hair, the mile wide stubborn streak, and the fiery nature are in fact genetically encoded from some of my Irish blood.

Of course putting all of this aside I have to think of my other ancestors and what this means. I had an Uncle who loved Genealogy from my father's family and he was able to trace our family history back to the 1500's. Very exciting and the inner nerd in me loves that I know where I come from, the good, the bad, the scandalous all of it. I have actual papers showing a lot of interesting documents about my family. The nerd in me loves this too. I also have from my Mother's side some great stories and family history at least back into the 1700's. I can't neglect all of my fantastic relatives the good the bad and the downright outrageous. I would lie if I said I wasn't proud of it all. I know that I am related to Benjamin Hornagold, oh yes the famous pirate who trained black beard on how to be a pirate. H especially loves this family connection as he wishes he could be a pirate himself. I have a Colorado Governor, a slave trading wild man, a famous highway man, a Cherokee Indian and a Danish exile in the linage also. I do feel that sometimes it is important to know where you come from if you can plan where you are headed. My grandmother used to joke that figuratively we were a family of generations of gypsies. Simply because for hundred of years one side of my family couldn't make up where they wanted to be and they traveled and wandered. If I have that many generations of people who like to explore then what chance did I stand at finding happiness in one place ? My mother is a first generation immigrant, she is in fact from London. I like to imagine what my ancestors did why they went places and who they were, the curious side of me loves all of it. I know this might seem dull and boring to most but again my inner nerd loves all of it. I think about the song Galileo by the Indigo girls.

When I left for Germany last year I wrote a long note planning on posting it here about how this American girl was going to walk where her ancestors walked and what that would mean, I might post it here later. I have to say visiting a few of the places I knew relatives had come from was fascinating I felt that somehow I understood them more or at least felt closer to them. I had German relatives from Berlin ( my Great -Grandmother on my father's side came from there) I had cousins more than once removed that came from Poland ( same family). The thought we all know each other within six degrees of separation is exciting. Just from My father's family I have relatives that came from Denmark one of them worked for the Danish monarch, My Great-Grandmother came from Sweden my grandmother spoke Swedish we celebrated Swedish holiday's when I was a child. I had family that made Gauntlets in Whales, My family was part of the Gunn clan in Scotland. My Grandfather was Canadian, and family came here when they grew tired of the conflicts of the Alsace Lorraine region of France ( although my father will tell you they lived on the German side) Having traveled to the Alsace Lorraine region, and learning of it's history and when my relatives were there they were both French and German. There was a Danish Opera singer and a Swedish painter. This family had people come over on ships when we were still a colony not yet a country. They landed and owned land in North Carolina. One of these famous relatives was a well know slave trader ( told you there was some ugly). I have relatives that founded Guntersville Alabama. My cousins belong to the Daughters of the American Revolution and we had family that fought on both sides of that war, as we did with the civil war. The famous slave trader had a brother who disagreed with his views and married a Cherokee Indian who had walked in the Trail of Tears. They left to become farmers in Indiana. I think of all of this mixture and what it means. I am American made up of the melting pot of immigrants from the world and yet unequivocal tied to the Untied states and it's history to gain Independence and to unite despite the civil war. It just doesn't get any more American than that.

My mother's family is Irish, Scottish and English. My Mother told me that we are related to a highway man that was famous in certain parts of England ( there are those trouble makers cropping up ) London, Nottingham, Feltham, Norwich, Norfolk..and countless other places. Revolutionaries and common people all tied together through blood lines.

When I worked as a waitress in Alaska I met a man from England an elderly man very nice and I asked him where he was from in England ( his accent sounded familiar) After we got to talking I discovered he was from Norwich like my grandfather (my Mother's father). I told him that this is where my grandfather came from ( it explained why his accent was familiar) Well after some more talk the man asked my grandfather's name and I told him..... they lived down the street from each other went to the same grade school knew each other well. They had even exchanged letters just a few years earlier and he knew my Great-Grandfather and my Mother and my Grandmother. To know in the middle of nowhere Alaska I could find friends of my family was mind boggling and comforting also. My grandfather knew everyone in the town where he lived in Illinois as kids we joked we couldn't go anywhere unrecognized. This was good it kept us out of trouble and we all knew our place in the world, to this day there are people who still know my grandfather. The elderly man told me I had his nose and he could see my grandfather's stubborn streak in me. I have to laugh and think about this country song where the lyrics talk about being Rosemarie's granddaughter and being the spitting image of her father as she sings about small towns where you are your family.

Recently I was at a seminar and a woman next to me mentioned she used to be a music teacher ( I knew she was from Illinois) I said oh what did you teach my father was a music teacher. After a spirited conversation come to find out she used to send her bows to my grandfather's instrument repair shop and she knew my Grandfather ( my father's father) I smiled and nearly started to cry. My grandfather was an amazing man who knew everyone also in his town he was warm and loving and quick with smiles and good conversation he had a wit and intelligence that could mesmerize. I spent countless summers in my grandfather's basement workshop/store re-padding clarinets ( one of many skills I posses because of him) Doing intricate inlay repair work on gorgeous instruments. I helped hammer out dents in brass instruments, I watched my grandfather make pieces he needed at his metal lathe. I was probably the only 6 year old who knew how to work a bunson burner just right to loosen old glue and to find missing minuscule springs on the workshop floor. I would wait for the horse hair to come in and count the strands with my grandfather ( the horse hair for bows is imported and it cost hundreds of dollars and you get only a small strand every hair counts) I helped prepare it, we wore gloves so we wouldn't get oil on the hair. It hung in the basement in the back of the shop. I watched my grandfather painstakingly string those bows with such skill and accuracy it almost made time stand still. How detail orientated he was and how meticulous he was. He would deliver all of his instruments by hand in a station wagon.... the same station wagon that my brother & I rode in for all of our adventures with him. I traveled his route delivering instruments all over the central part of Illinois. My grandfather would chat with every customer, we never knew a stranger, he drank a lot of coffee and we spent a lot of time just visiting with everyone. I felt at home no matter where I roamed and I knew a lot of people. This woman used one of those bows, I remember professionals from all over the state wouldn't let anyone touch their bows but my grandfather. I used to gather shells at the river off his boat to use for our inlay repairs.... and to make buttons for a seamstress in town. This woman knew my grandfather and my father. I am never far from family no matter where I roam. This was in Dallas Texas.

It doesn't matter where we come from or how we got here or who we are related to really, what matters is if we understand we are connected and that our family is around us always whether we came from a large family or a small family. We make our own families when we travel when we show kindness to others through our friends. It is true we are all "Irish" on St Patrick's day regardless of our bloodlines. I could be more smug and say I have lots of Irish blood but a drop or a gallon it really doesn't matter because the truth is I am truly American woven into the fibers of this country throughout history.

My children are part of this tapestry, and they have new blood infused into the line through their father..... which I could write a whole page on the mixture of Sam. Which makes me laugh because my children have not only my global blood lines but Sam's and that involves at least 5 more countries around the globe.... and truly makes them even more of an American mixture.

So this Irish, English, Welsh, Scottish, Swedish, Danish,French, German, Canadian- American girl will wear green enjoy her feisty nature, drink a green drink and tell her children about their Irish relatives mixed with the others on St. Patrick's day just like my Mother did for me ...... I might wear something purple or orange for my Father just to stir things up a bit. The most important thing is we will share time and laugh and remember our family old, new, ancient and rumored.