St. Patrick's Day
Mar. 17th, 2011 08:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
author_by_nightI don't want to say "I'm Irish", because I'm not, really. But I am 1/4 Irish or something to that affect, and you know what? I am proud of it.
According to some internet research, the surname Quinn means Chief or "wisdom." So either my ancestors were warriors, wise, or both. Perhaps wise warriors?
My Great Grandmother came over with a brother at fifteen. I can only imagine what she, a young woman with shocking black hair and a heavy Irish brogue, would have gone through. Late 19th/early 20th century America was not friendly to the Irish. She eventually worked washing clothes and raised several kids in one boarding house. She married five or so times, each of her husband dying in some tragic way. She had my grandfather when she was nearly fifty years old. Think it sounds old now? Back then it must have been like having a child at sixty is now.
Unfortunately I know very little about her, because she and my grandfather did not get along. Apparently she was rather unkind, but if that is indeed the case, while treating one's son badly is certainly wrong, I still do in many ways feel sorry for her. The life she must have had before coming to America is horrible in of itself - often if a family went to a poorhouse, they were all separated. She might have lost her parents as early as two years old, whether from death or simply from being taken away from her parents. Her brother was likely the only family she knew. Then she came to a place that did not want her, did not feel it had sufficient space for the Irish. Then she lost her husbands, one by one. It must have been quite harsh. I am not happy that she was apparently cruel to my grandfather, who I never knew but still feel loyal to, but I have to wonder what made her that way. Maybe she would have been a hardened lady even if she'd grown up with silver spoons and golden shoes. Maybe not.
I wonder what she would be like today. I wish she had lived to see people parading down the streets, wishing they were Irish like her. I do hope that she lived long enough to see her German-Irish Catholic son marry an English protestant girl who didn't care about his heritage, who loved him with all of her heart and did until the day she buried him, perhaps even after that. Of course, maybe she did know and didn't approve. I don't know.
I'll wear green today, but not because everyone's doing it. I'll wear green because I am Irish - if only 1/4 - and damn proud of it.
According to some internet research, the surname Quinn means Chief or "wisdom." So either my ancestors were warriors, wise, or both. Perhaps wise warriors?
My Great Grandmother came over with a brother at fifteen. I can only imagine what she, a young woman with shocking black hair and a heavy Irish brogue, would have gone through. Late 19th/early 20th century America was not friendly to the Irish. She eventually worked washing clothes and raised several kids in one boarding house. She married five or so times, each of her husband dying in some tragic way. She had my grandfather when she was nearly fifty years old. Think it sounds old now? Back then it must have been like having a child at sixty is now.
Unfortunately I know very little about her, because she and my grandfather did not get along. Apparently she was rather unkind, but if that is indeed the case, while treating one's son badly is certainly wrong, I still do in many ways feel sorry for her. The life she must have had before coming to America is horrible in of itself - often if a family went to a poorhouse, they were all separated. She might have lost her parents as early as two years old, whether from death or simply from being taken away from her parents. Her brother was likely the only family she knew. Then she came to a place that did not want her, did not feel it had sufficient space for the Irish. Then she lost her husbands, one by one. It must have been quite harsh. I am not happy that she was apparently cruel to my grandfather, who I never knew but still feel loyal to, but I have to wonder what made her that way. Maybe she would have been a hardened lady even if she'd grown up with silver spoons and golden shoes. Maybe not.
I wonder what she would be like today. I wish she had lived to see people parading down the streets, wishing they were Irish like her. I do hope that she lived long enough to see her German-Irish Catholic son marry an English protestant girl who didn't care about his heritage, who loved him with all of her heart and did until the day she buried him, perhaps even after that. Of course, maybe she did know and didn't approve. I don't know.
I'll wear green today, but not because everyone's doing it. I'll wear green because I am Irish - if only 1/4 - and damn proud of it.
