Saint Patrick’s Day
Everyone claims to have a bit of Irish in them on Saint Patrick’s Day.
I guess I’m a little bit o’ Irish. My paternal Great Grandfather was an orphan who came to London Ontario from Dublin Ireland. He was a shoe cobbler by trade and fell in love with the last McCormick of the famous McCormick Spice clan. They ran away to Detroit to be married against her family wishes and she was dis-inherited by her family. They had three sons, but he died in London Ontario of Cholera and left her to raise them on her own. Her family never did welcome her back into the fold.
Recently I obtained my long form birth certificate. I was stunned to find that my mother claimed she was Irish as the time of my birth. I have no idea why she said she was Irish. Her maiden name was Heil, so she was obviously German and looking through Ancestry.ca she also had Mohawk genes, but I guess neither was as proper as being “Irish”. My husband’s mother who was Native American also claimed to be Irish, but at least her maiden name was Halpin, a proper Irish name.
The Pandemic of Coronavirus continues. We’re on our journey back to Canada and still have about 2 more days of driving. Yesterday, Prime Minister Trudeau announced that the borders will be closed to all outsiders (with some minor exceptions such as flight crews) and all Canadians should return home immediately from all countries. Everyone returning to Canada regardless of from where will need to be self quarantined for 2 weeks. Everything is shut down. Such a strange place the world has become. Everything is upside down.