Heritage

Today is St. Patrick's Day. Last year Tab's boss, who had recently moved here from Ireland, was surprised (and somewhat shocked) by the way we celebrate the holiday here in the United States, with shamrocks and leprechauns and parades. To get the full St. Patrick's day experience, Colum even tagged along with a group from Tab's office on their annual pilgrimage to Sweeney's, an Irish bar downtown, for the green beer.

Beer, green or any other color, has never appealed to me. I haven't been a bar hound since my single days, and I can't say I miss it. In fact, I sympathize with a character onThe Sopranos who had a near-death experience and reported that Hell is an Irish bar where every day is St. Patrick's Day.

Another thing that surprised Colum when he moved here was how many Americans identify themselves as Irish, by which they really mean that they have an Irish great grandparent or two. I'm one of those Americans, I guess. I say that I'm half Irish because both of my grandmothers were from Irish families. However, all of my Irish ancestors, along with the German ones on my mother's father's side, arrived in the U.S. in the mid-19th century.

I think it is funny the way the people in my family divvy up our nationality, each choosing a heritage that they admire. My mother prefers to think of herself as German like her father, even though her own mother was of Irish descent. Mom admires what she sees as German traits: hard work and responsibility.

My father, the ultimate Anglophile, emphasizes the English part of his ancestry. His brother, who loves the Netherlands, argues that their family name of Peters might have been a corruption of a Dutch name and that our family could be descended from the Dutch settlers of New Jersey in the 17th and 18th centuries.

Their mother, my beloved, much-missed Nana, loved all things Irish. She even traveled to Ireland twice in her later years. Like her, I identify with my Irish side. I've read Irish folklore and I love Celtic music. Once I even took a course in Irish Gaelic. I hope to visit Ireland one day, like Nana.

Daniel had a St. Patrick's Day party at school. They ate green Jello and shamrock cookies. When I picked him up at school he was wearing a paper leprechaun hat and green paper eyeglasses. He sat in the back seat of the car bickering with Stephen, looking like a bad-tempered elf indeed.

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