Growing up, I always wanted to be Irish. When I was in my early twenties, I mentioned this within earshot of my mother. She didn't realize I'd never caught on to the fact that the Duncan's in the family tree were from Ireland. My great-grandparents, or was it one more generation back, came over from Ireland.
When I was in my mid twenties, I told this story amongst a group of women who were either German immigrants or the children of German immigrants. St. Patrick's Day was not high on their list of "must celebrate" holidays, so it wasn't much of a conversation starter. . .except with Lorna. Lorna looked at me, smiled her sweet smile that included eyelids crinkling and sparkling. Then she touched my hand and said, "Have you never looked at yourself in the mirror? Look at those blue eyes and freckles. Look at that glorious dark brown hair with the hint of red in the sunshine. How could you not know you are Irish?"
Seems I'd also missed the other big clue-- my gift of gab, obviously thanks to some silk tongued ancestor who must have kissed the Blarney stone!
So, since I'm just on a lunch break and must hurry, I have to leave you with my own version of an Irish blessing. Call it my version of "May the road rise to greet you" and other such sentiments.
May you always be around the people who love you most.