All In The Family

For some years, as a young woman, I harbored the illusion that my paternal ancestors were of French descent. I do not know how or exactly when I came upon the notion, but it was there. The idea of my French ancestry was lying dormant, awaiting the time and opportunity to be known out loud and in color.

At some point, I co-opted an accent for my last name, borrowing an extra syllable. Words like au revoir, bonjour and merci beaucoup were becoming part of my daily speech patterns. I'd even gone so far as to take a semester of French in an attempt to get closer to a heritage I'd presumed was mine.

Or course, I was wrong. This notion of French ancestors is completely false, without merit. At least, that's what I've come to believe. Some preliminary investigation surrounding the origins of my last name seem to indicate that my paternal ancestors were more likely of Irish descent.

Further, some discovery reveals that my last name was at one time slang for what amounts to a laze-about or perhaps more accurately, someone who travels the least challenging path. Further still, I discovered that combined with another word, which coincidentally, is the family name of some related by marriage relatives, the Irish version of my last name roughly translates to 'kiss my ass.'

As you may imagine I was not overly excited about these discoveries. Yet, I remain interested not only in the origins of my name but the family heritage as well. I'm wondering if I might be distant relatives of the family wearing my last name, who produce a bourbon bearing that same name. The plot thickens.

Kiss Me. I'm Irish. Maybe.