Happy St. Patrick's Day

There's Irish somewhere in me... I can feel it!

This morning I decided that I would earn my St. Patrick's Day kisses by telling you all about my Irish ancestry. For some reason, I've always assumed that I am part Irish. I'm not sure whether I heard it from someone somewhere, or if I just invented some fancy explanation for my mother's red hair, freckles and shamrock green eyes. I was going to post, "Kiss Me! I'm Irish!" and leave it at that, but I suddenly thought that maybe I needed some documented proof.

I started digging around on Google and various family history sites, and found that my mother's family is not from Ireland at all, but from England-- mostly Worcestershire and Yorkshire-- although, I did find someone born in Wales.

I then turned to my paternal ancestry. After leafing through the piles of pedigree charts that my family has heaped upon me over the years, I did find one name in the late 1600s born in Norther Ireland! There you go! On some exponentially minute genetic level, there is some Irish in me somewhere! I knew I could feel a spark!

I decided to call my grandma just to be sure. After all, delving into one's family history is hardly worth it without taking the opportunity to talk to some actual family members. Sure enough, she was full of stories for me. She told me that we are related to a great warrior named Richard de Bruce who fought in some battles with English soldiers over his lands... but I could hear Grandpa shouting from the background, "He was Scottish. Scottish! Not Irish!" So funny! But it turns out that another ancestor named John Bramhall was a prelate over Ireland. Serving in Ireland is nearly as good as being born there, right?

In conclusion, I learned a lot about my family history today, besides discovering that I have two doses of Irish blood! Can I have my kiss yet?