...being Irish for a day

I really am a little bit Irish from both sides of the family (along with German, English, French, Norwegian and Welsch!). My mom had an Irish grandmother who married a French-Canadian. Great-Grandma, although poor, was determined that her family look good. When they boarded the ship in New Orleans that would bring them to the west coast Great-Grandma was told that her luggage was too heavy. But rather than get rid of her flat iron, she somehow managed to hide it in her skirts! I can't imagine carrying one of these things around for very long--let alone having it bump me on the legs as I walked! Such is the stuff that family lore is made of. I wonder if it's true?When I was a child, wearing green on St. Patrick's Day was a must--or else be pinched. With such a large family mom had to lay down the law that no pinching was allowed until the person was dressed for the day. Otherwise my brothers would lie in wait as we younger siblings shuffled down for breakfast. My dad never played along. When asked why he wasn't wearing green, he'd say that his ancestors were from the northen part of Ireland, and their color was orange. (Protestant Orangemen from the north? Probably so, but as a child I just didn't get it.)

Today is a fun day, a silly day, a day that has become so Americanized that it doesn't come close to resembling the original holiday. It's a day to remember my Irish ancestors. A day to be a little bit Irish. Happy St. Patrick's Day!