electric mist

getting your green on

St. Patrick's Day was always a fun day for me as a kid. With an Irish last name and green eyes, I staked a tiny claim to the day, enjoying the parades we have (a very green version of Mardi Gras) and the good will. When I was in high school, we were assigned a genealogy report and I dreaded it, since it meant having to talk to all the old people in my family. (You know, ancient people, over 30.) The report was going to be dull since I had grown up knowing that I was Cajun (Cajun... with an Irish last name... hmmmm?) and that was so normal around here -- almost mundane.

The Irish last name mystery was explained away by my grandmother: supposedly, when my grandfather's grandfather had arrived in Louisiana, there had been some war between siblings, and he had changed the spelling of his last name just to break with them. (But... but... he didn't spell it all that differently, I protested, and it's still very Irish in the first form...) I was told to hush.

There was another mystery which no one would address: my dad and all of his cousins are big men, with dark hair and blue or green eyes. At 6'2", my dad was the runt of the family; his cousins were in the 6'8" range. (But... most Cajun men are small and wiry and... small!... how is it we're Cajun again?) Again with the hush.

Turns out, there was a Scotch-Irish man of a Highland clan (and tracing that clan was a joy -- there was some incredibly cool history there)... anyway, a Highland man who immigrated to Nova Scotia, married into the Acadians there and when they were dispersed and fled, his family came to South Louisiana. So even though the decendents were raised Cajun (and my father only spoke Cajun until first grade, where they forced him to start speaking English only), there was a great bit of Scotch-Irish heritage being passed along -- including the big brawny look for the guys, lots of green eyed women and occasional red hair.

This delighted me. I enjoy the Cajun heritage, but I had always had an affinity for the Irish and the Scotch and I cannot explain the "calling" but whenever I see a photo of the Highland area, it feels like it is speaking to me of home.

(Of course, on my mom's side of the family, there were the great-grandparents who immigrated and met on the ship... he was from Italy and spoke nary a word of anything else, she was from France and same thing... they met and married before either of them could speak the other's language or English. So there's Cajun, Scotch, Irish, French and Italian heritage. Or as my mom puts it, not a calm bone in my body.)

St. Patrick's day will always hold another distinction for me, though. It was the day I discovered I was pregnant with Luke and my life changed and my world spun and tilted and re-shaped itself in an irrevoable, wonderful way. Scary as hell, but wonderful.

Posted by toni at March 17, 2004 09:29 AM