St. Paddy's Day

'Tis the day where everybody wears green. Or, as my father used to say with a replicated Irish brogue, "There are two kinds of people in the world - those that are Irish, and those that wish they were". My dad, of course, was 100% Irish, coming from Hughes and Cusick stock. Neither names sound as Irish as say Madden, which was another of the familial ancestry names I know.

My dad was incredibly proud of his heritage and would never hesitate to tell people how he came from Irish stock. He was not born in Ireland, nor was either his father, mother, or grandparents, But his Great Grandparents were. His Great Grandfather Hughes carried the name I do - Michael, and, according to my dad, came from County Cork. The Great Grandparents migrated to the U.S. sometime in the late 1830's at the beginning of the Potato famine. Unfortunately, I don't know much about the Cusick (my grandmother's maiden name) background, but vaguely recall my dad saying they migrated here during the famine too.

Dad was a card-carrying member of the Ancient order of Hibernians - an Irish Catholic society formed in the 1850's. See http://www.aoh.com/pages/aoh_history.html However, I cannot remember him ever going to a meeting of the group. I think he belonged so he could further his claim on being Irish. I do remember seeing their newsletters around the house, and him, in his easy chair reading them.

Born in Chicago, the Hughes family were not "Lace Curtain" Irish. They were laborers. So were the Cusicks. However, the Cusicks lived in a compound-like area, consisting of several houses on the South side known as Cusick Village. My grandmother Hughes (nee Cusick) was one of 13 children of this obviously large Irish Catholic family. One of her brothers, Bill Cusick, gained some notoriety as a police sergeant in Chicago during the 30's and 40's, and for commanding a squad of officers who shot and killed Ralph Capone, the brother of Al, the notorious gangster.

In fact, Uncle Bill Cusick, with whom my father had a love/hate relationship for all of their lives, was the reason for our move to California. At my grandmothers (and Uncle Bill's sister) funeral, Bill offered my dad a job in California. It was as a Security Guard. Bill had been hired a couple years previously as Director of Security for Gilfillan. With my dad at loose ends after the passing of his mother, a few weeks later, he called Bill and told him he was coming. I was 7 years old at the time.

The pride in being Irish never relented in my dad, or his 3 sons. My older brother, namesake of my dad, named his 4 boys with Irish sounding names - Daniel Patrick, Timothy Brian, Christopher Kevin, and James Joseph. I, for whatever reason, was able to find the love of my life in Nebraska. Her name? Colleen Kirkpatrick. We named our children Shannon Maureen, Ryan Michael, And Kevin Kirkpatrick.

I know my kids and my nephews also share that same pride in their Irish heritage. It is but one of the many things my old man passed on to us. So, Dad, Happy St. Paddy's Day! Though you've been gone almost 30 years now, I still think of you all the time, Especially on March 17th.

Old Fart Mike