I’m Irish. Most of my life I was told I am but I was still surprised when my DNA test came back. My mother told me that my grandfather’s family was from Ireland. She said they were poor and left around the time of the potato famine. But, she also told me that my grandmother was a Native American princess and I have zero Native American in my ancestry, so who’s to say what is what. My people come from Southern Ireland, the real deal, sovereign state where the Irish Mob reigns supreme. In fact, when my people first left the tried to give it a go in London, which makes sense, that’s where I’d go if I were a farm peasant, but it didn’t suite them, even though they had some potatoes there just weren’t enough bars. So, they left again this time for the FR FR Promised Land of Bath County, Kentucky, USA!
So I mean, technically my people are from the UK and UK (Go Wildcats!) The point is, you can pinch me or not pinch me it doesn’t really matter, what really matters is that today is a special day. Today is the anniversary of my first date with Jerimiah.
Twenty one years ago today we stood on the street in Kansas City watching the St. Paddy’s revelers run amok and we gave a cheers with our green beers and decided to try this thing out. As it turns out Jerimiah is not Irish, so his luck was running thin, meanwhile I hit the jackpot that day.
Cheers to 21 years! And poor, poor peasant people.