It starts with the land...

My ancestors were farmers as far as I can trace them. Even back in the 1600’s, they were tilling the land in Ireland. As they worked their way across America, they kept at it. Farms and grains and livestock were in their blood.  My grandfather started out that way, but he broke the chain when he became a banker. My dad took over the farm until he was drafted in the Army and became a career officer. I consider myself fortunate to have known my grandparents. And my great-grandfather was still alive when I was a young child. His was the first funeral I ever attended.  I still have his rocking chair, which according to my grandmother was an 1870’s vintage. No matter where dad was stationed while I was growing up, he would send me off to the farm in the summers. I wouldn’t trade those times for anything. My grandparents were tough and hardy souls. I’m a better person for knowing them. The Irish are good at a lot of things but their roots are in the soil.  I feel their spirits when I’m in Ireland. The connection is strong. Lamb for dinner and a shot of Jameson are waiting for me tonight. May the most you wish for be the least you get.  Happy St. Patrick’s Day, wherever you're from.