I’m Irish and Scottish
And that creates a problem
My mother’s father’s family can be traced all the way back to when the Viking king kicked his daughter, son-in-law, and two grandsons out of the country. His son-in-law had married the king’s older daughter, had a son, and then she died. So the son-in-law married the king’s younger daughter, and they had a son. The king decided the son-in-law had committed incest (somehow) and sent them all packing.
The ship carrying the family sank off the shore of the northern most Scottish island. The sons formed two clans, the Morrisons and the McClouds, and the story goes that the two did not get along. In fact, when England was killing off the Scottish, the McClouds thought they could win favor by presenting the English king with some Morrison heads, to show his loyalty. (The story also goes that the Morrisons got really good at climbing trees.) The McClouds’ plan didn’t work; the English king tried to kill them off, too.
At some point, the Morrisons emigrated to Ireland, then to the Colonies, where the father signed an oath of allegiance to the Colonies, and his son fought for the Colonies in the Revolution. There had been an Irish wife in there somewhere, too, so I have Scottish and Irish heritage on that side.
We know little about my mother’s mother’s heritage, but think it was mostly English.
My father’s history is extremely vague. My father’s father died when he was 72; my father was 4. When my father asked his mother’s sister about his father, she said, “Some things are better not known.” But his mother’s family was the Farrells, and we know they were Irish. My ancestry.com results came out 100% western European.
Fast forward to today. My father was mostly Irish, and my mother was mostly Scottish. My mother once said to me, “You’re just like your father. Money burns a hole in your pocket. If you have any, you just have to spend it!” I do have a tendency to impulse buy.
But then the Scottish side of me gets mad, and says, “Why did you do that? You spend too much money!” So I spend money and then feel guilty about it. It’s a pattern I’ve followed all my life.
My sister was closer to my mother than my father, so if I mention a purchase to her or a worry I have about money (like what will happen if we lose our Social Security), she scoffingly laughs at me. “You keep spending money and then worrying about it. I’m a saver.” She sure is. I once loaned her $1,000 to take a course. I never was paid back. I’m not complaining. I didn’t expect to see the money again, but she saved $1,000.
So the point to all this is, the Irish in me says, “You have the money. Spend it!” The Scottish part of me says, “Save the money!” and when I don’t and money gets tight at the end of the month, the Scottish part says, “See? I told you. It’s your own fault.” And the Scottish part is right, but the Irish side always wins.
It’s funny, though, how quiet the Scottish side is when I buy a tartan scarf or Scottish pin. And my husband and I both bought 2 square feet of land in Scotland, enabling us to be Lord Maddox and Lady Fox-Wright. I heard bagpipes playing when I spent that money. And the Irish side laughed.
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