the luck of the irish

i like to fancy myself as being of irish ancestry, however far removed. my maiden name, mckissack (i miss it), is obviously from the emerald isle. i have an obsession with green, irish poems and claddaghs. according to my maternal grandmother, we are not cherokee, as we have always been told, but actually black irish--now that was an interesting incident. supplemental post to follow. either way, i have some sort of ancestry that has been furiously oppressed at some point in time. my in-laws traveled to ireland a few years ago (so jealous). her grandmother was actually from ireland, and my mother-in-law actually found her cousin on the streets of ireland. she said he looked like her dead father and i think it kind of freaked her out.

this post is about a sweet story i heard yesterday.

i was in belk here in smalltown, mississippi, and was looking for a birthday present for steve, the life professional. a sweet lady helped me and somehow we got on the subject of ireland. she said her husband was from ireland. i told her how much i loved ireland, etc., just like i did above. then she told me how she and her husband met. they met on the internet (she in mississippi, he in ireland), he came over for a visit to officially meet her face-to-face, and he stayed and they got married. just up and left his homeland and never went back! she also said they save their pennies all year so they can visit his family. i thought it was so cute.


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supplemental post regarding my up-for-grabs ancestry.

for as long as i can remember, i have always been told i was cherokee indian (native american, whatever) on my maternal grandfather's side. my mom always told me this, pointing out that my grandfather was always red and that my great-great-grandmother had been cherokee or married a cherokee (or looked at a cherokee once, whatever). naturally, as a small, trusting child, i took her at her word. little did i know that this was wrong. i remember the incident clearly. we were at my grandmother's house, in the kitchen, maybe putting up some leftover mcclard's barbecue (or getting it out of the fridge, who knows). i mention something about being cherokee. immediately, my mom (who is behind grandma) starts making the cease-and-desist motion with her hands and mouthing no while my grandmother simultaneously launches into a swift and final explanation that we are not cherokee. we are black irish. and since i can't take a hint to save my life (almost got me arrested once, thankyouverymuchmrduiofficer), i argue with her. at this point mom gives up, grandma talks without caring if we are listening because she is right and that's all there is to it, and i am very sorry i asked.