Personally, I count myself Irish for the other 364 days since my Irish heritage can be trace through both my mother and father’s parents.
I remember the day I felt those Irish genes for the first time. My blood truly began to tingle and my heart sang at the site of the green fields I saw from the airplane’s window. Then when I dipped my hand in the River Shannon, I knew I’d come home.
I’d tagged along on my husband’s business trip not really thinking about the family stories of Irish heritage…Mama Smith who was a Callahan or Oma Ulit whose family landed on Ellis Island in the days of the Potato Famine.
But an amazing thing happened while my husband conducted business throughout Ireland, Scotland and Britain.
I uncovered my Irish roots. So much so a brogue surfaced.
An Irish lilt that returns whenever we spend time on the Emerald Isle and at odd times when we don’t.
After nine more trips over ten years, those roots have solidified and my love of all things Irish has grown deep.
Today we celebrate Ireland’s patron saint, Patrick, who, as you may know, wasn’t even Irish but English.
Still, he’s credited with bringing Christianity to Ireland…and if you believe the Irish folklore, chased all the snakes away. Read all about the St. Patrick here.