I have Irish lineage on both sides of my family, but it's definitely dominant on my mother's side. Her father, full-blooded Irish, was supposedly first-generation Irish American, but we never knew a whole lot about him. As a matter of fact, we knew nothing of his life before my grandmother. My grandmother was full-blooded Scot and supposedly first-generation Scottish-American. (I really should verify this information via Ancestry.com, but it's one of those things for which I never have time. I should, though.)
Anyone who knows anything about life in the early 1900s and Irish-Scottish relationships can sympathize with my grandparents' plight. We never even knew my grandfather had siblings until he died and some of them came to his wake and funeral. Even stranger, we didn't know until two years ago that my grandfather changed his Irish last name and started spelling it with two r's rather than the familial one r -- Kerigan to Kerrigan.
Every year on St. Patrick's Day, I'd shy away from celebrating. My family was not Irish Catholic; we were loosely Protestant. My grandmother the Scot had been born into a Christian Scientist family. Sometimes I'd wear something orange under my St. Pat's clothing to feel camaraderie with my Irish Protestant roots. The minority in Ireland, I exercised my longstanding connection to William of Orange, but I'd do so discreetly so as not to offend my Irish Catholic friends (of which I have many).
A few years before mysteriously hearing from my grandfather's family, I suspected that the rift between him and his kin stemmed from more than my grandmother being Scottish and also being a Christian Scientist. I started to suspect that perhaps my grandfather had been Irish Catholic, after all. My grandfather's family unknowingly confirmed this when they told me that my grandfather's parents and some of his siblings were buried at a Catholic cemetery in western Massachusetts.
I kind of wish I'd known about this decades ago. I kind of wish I'd known a lot more about my grandfather and his family decades ago. I guess I'll have to make time to get onto Ancestry.com. No matter. It's really not important, this meshing of cultures and religions. It's why my father's side, the Pilgrims in the family, came over here in the first place. There also some Welsh connections thrown in to the mix, and somehow there's a connection to the court of Queen Elizabeth I (probably at the end of a burning stake, if I know my relatives).
Who knows? Maybe this is just the tip of the pot of gold. So, for this weekend, I'll trade in my orange for my green. If my grandparents could find a way to get along, I suppose I can bring together William of Orange and St. Patrick, whether it's historically correct or not.
