Tam marte quam arte
March 17, 2008 – 8:04 pm
I have always had a fascination with my heritage and background. Though my family is not as steep in old world traditions like some Jewish families or Catholic families are, I still am very much interested in knowing more of where I come from. What I do find extremely exciting for my family is the fact that I can trace both sides of my family back to their native countries - my mother’s side is English and my father’s side - Irish. Tucked away somewhere in a box is a copy of the Logue family roots, retelling the stories of my ancestors from Ireland and how it is that we came to be here in the United States.
To be quite and brutually honest, I have always been mainly attracted to Irish looking men - whether they were gingers or black Irish (like Mike), there is something that just stirs from within me. My dream vacation is to one day visit Ireland and just soak in the culture and the color there. Mike may not be a huge fan of flying, but that is one trip that I am not letting him get out of.
I often wish that I could speak Gaelic and I told Mike tonight that I plan to teach our children it one day. He looked like I was crazy and overambitious (which I most likely am) but there is nothing wrong with being proud of what you are and where you are from.
I should mention that I am just as proud of my English side and my family from there. Their trip to America was far more recent than the Logue side, with my great-grandfather coming over from Liverpool in the 1920’s with his athletic capabilities leading him to a prestigious career coaching at Princeton University (to date, there is an award handed out each year to the top Freshman athlete called the Richard Swinnerton award). But today is the day for the Irish . . .
As a child, I loved getting dressed up in everything green for St. Patty’s day, going as far as putting temporary color in my hair to add a bit of green to it. But as I got older and learned more of where I came from, I became a bit indignant. I am Irish. Why should I have to wear green just so I won’t get pinched? Look at my freckles and pale ass! I don’t tan! I’m Irish! These days, I tend to keep the green wearing to a minimum, but then, the fear of getting pinched is far more diminished too.
So Happy St. Patrick’s day to all of you micks and all you mick wannabes too. Hope the green beer didn’t make you too sick . . .
And because Mike insists I am no longer a Logue because we’re married and I changed my name, I am going to put up the Frey Family Crest too. True, the Freys are English and German - not Irish, but I am just as proud of my new last name as I am of my maiden.
