As I mentioned, I'm Scots-Irish, which is what my ancestors were called once they migrated to America. Scots-Irish are also known as the Ulster Scots. Ulster Scots are actually English and Scottish, so where does the Irish come in? Well you see that's a long story that if you are interested in history, I'd highly suggest looking into it. There is a great documentary on Youtube that would be a great place to start, It's called Ulster Scots Journey.
The short of if is that there is a region of northern Ireland called Ulster, and some Scots migrated there, because of colonization scheme set in place by the English. Due to the severe poverty of Lowland Scots. They took this opportunity for what they thought would be a better life. This is where the Irish in Scots-Irish comes into place. Because of the location of the Lowlands border Scots had often times had children with Irish as well.
Around early to mid 1700's Ulster-Scots started migrating to America, this was very much due to the economic position they were placed in by England. Restrictions on trade, manufacturing, and sale of wool. On top of this renters kept raising the rent on the land. Renting wasn't the same as it is today. Back then renting was the next best thing to ownership, you could have. Leases were often times over 20 years or more and they typically renewed by default. Renters would improve the property as if were their own, because it was expected to be able to live there indefinitely. Often times these leases would pass down in family. On top of all of this there was a major drought that impacted their livelihood.
The horror stories I have read about the migration, is drastic. Many of those that couldn't afford to pay their own way to America were "sponsored" indentured servants. But the beauty in the Ulster Scots story, is in their strength, their determination to make their way and carve out a space for them in this New World. They were what we call today the frontiersmen. If you look at the arts, the music, the way of life of even today of some of the people deep in the Appalachian mountains, you will see the impact of the Old Country.
So for me, today, Saint Patrick's Day, is not an excuse to party, it's not even a religious thing for me, but rather a moment for me to reflect, and find my own strength inside of me.
To close it off I'd like to share a poem I wrote that reminds me of home, and the family I found when I used to work at an Irish pub in Birmingham, AL.
warm tones dancing in hollowed Mahogany
lyrics floating off lips of 6 year olds with missing teeth ... little angels
ancestral stories so soulful they turn violines in to fiddles
I miss brick walls overtaken by kudzu
paint chipped porches, sun tea, and swings
friendly waves and "bless their hearts"
there are no strangers here
I miss the Sunday night céilí
mothers knitting and their pint of apple cider
fathers pounding on tables to the rhythm
rebel songs of freedom
My belly full of lamb
My glass full of Guinness
The air full of joy
My heart full of Home
- dj FUGLY