Beyond Green Beer

As someone whose family tree is firmly rooted in Ireland, I have to acknowledge Saint Patrick’s Day.

I was lucky enough to be named for my Irish grandmothers Winifred and Elizabeth.  Winifred (or Winnie, as everyone called her) immigrated to this country from rural Ireland as a teenage girl. I’ve often wondered what that trip must have been like for her, traveling alone probably for the first time, passing by the Statue of Liberty, gaining entry to this country at Ellis Island! 

Winn became a maid for a wealthy family on Philadelphia’s Main Line, then later became their cook.  Years later, after the death of a son and subsequent depression, and on her doctor’s advice to get busy, she became a waitress at the restaurant at the Lit Brothers Department Store located a couple of blocks away from Independence Hall, where the Declaration of Independence and Constitution were signed.

Her story always inspired me. I know I come from a line of women who weren’t afraid to work hard searching for a better life. 

I was fortunate enough to see my grandmother almost weekly at her home in South Philly for the first 16th years of my life, where I got to experience her dry wit and legendary cheeseburgers. She spoiled me as only a grandmother can do and bought me my First Communion dress and my first pair of platform shoes!  

Saint Patrick’s Day is really an Irish American holiday, and I’ve celebrated it in many different places and ways (Chicago’s still rules in my book!). And while I’m no longer interested in green beer, I’ll raise a toast to Winnie and all those Irish immigrants to this country, who worked the jobs that most didn’t want, in their search for a better life.

So cheers to the Grandmom’, Grannys, Nonnas, Abuelas, Bubbes, and all the other grandmothers who have inspired us.