I am third generaion Irish on my father’s side. He passed away when I was less than two years old. I have really no connections to the Irish. So, why am I so emotional when I hear 'Oh, Danny Boy" or watch “The Quiet Man”? Is it genetic? It doesn’t matter. Tonight, I have had a bit to drink and I am watching a Quiet Man on TMC.
Tonight, I am definitely Irish
ní féidir leat canadh le gloine folamh
(you can’t sing with an empty glass)
I’m not Irish at all. But, ‘Oh Danny boy’ will rip out my heart.
Good Irish Cheers, to you.
Mine too
But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,
If I am dead, as dead I well may be,
You’ll come and find the place where I am lying,
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.
And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me,
And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me,
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me!
On St Patrick’s Day everybody’s Irish, though some of us are more Irish than others. 
The tune was named “London Derriere,” or something, and the lyrics were written by an Englishman. About what you’d expect, since they took everything else.
My FIL was a BIG (taller than my rather great height) Irish-American cop who took more pride in his ethnicity than any other of the family. Good thing. But he always served Irish whisky. Good thing. His daughters visited the Auld Sod a couple times and remarked that everyone there looked like them. Blame the DNA.
My FIL married his cousin. Their grandfather said their kids would be morons with webbed toes and fingers. He was wrong. Good thing.
Much Irish music, literature, and art is tragic. Imagine that - a “terrible beauty”. An Irish-American friend said he was thirteen before he learned fuckingenglish wasn’t a single word. He donated to the IRA. Imagine that.
We had a Chidope at the main Northside IRA collection point. Imagine that.
During The Troubles there was a charity down the street from me devoted to bringing kids from Northern Ireland over to show how Catholics and Protestants could live together in peace, joined in a common hatred for the White Sox. Imagine how it brought a tear to the eye of this cranky old man when he realized that it had closed, it’s mission fulfilled.
Because you’ve grown up thinking that “Irishness” is part of your identity? That you have some connection to Ireland that you don’t to, say, Belgium, that it’s the “old country”?
On my mother’s side, I’m directly descended from an Irish immigrant from Sligo, who came just before the Civil War. I know his name, I know where he lived after the war, I know stories about him.
My father’s family, on the other hand, has been in North Carolina since 1768 - we can’t trace them back to Europe. The area where they lived was settled by Scots, and our name is Scottish, and family tradition has us coming from Scotland. But we have no definitive proof of that, and our name is also common in northern England and Ulster.
So my connection to Ireland is much closer and more established than my connection to Scotland. Yet when I stood on Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh, I looked around and thought, I know this place. This land is important to me. I did not have that sense in Ireland. (Though I really liked the country.)
Which suggests to me that the fact I’d read, and dreamed, and talked about Scotland since I was 16 and my uncle dressed me in his kilt and told me about our family history was the source of my emotional connection to Auld Reekie. Something similar is probably the cause of yours to Ireland.
My father said much the same thing about britishbastard (his father grew up in pre-Republic County Clare).
If this little Island can give anyone a positive at the moment then take it.
Here’s two things that may make you feel good about your Irish roots. Here’s how we are acting now.
The other day someone started a gofundme with a goal of €250 to get some food sent to some nurses. The fund is now at €190,000 and growing. It’s being used to feed our brave frontline medical staff (my sister is one and I’m so proud and worried for her) countrywide played for by the people they are working so hard for.
There was a call for volunteers of all types and ex medical staff to help fight this fight. This was yesterday. 42,000 people have contacted them already.
I’m a stone cold atheist but may your god/whatever go with you and the wind be always at your back.
Your little island gave us Dara O’Briain and Ed Byrne. That’s enough to earn my gratitude for a few good decades.
Irish were exported as slaves to British colonies including Caribbean coffee and tobacco estates. Many were sent to (then) British Honduras (now) Belize. We drove through Belize listening to local radio hearing phrases like “the toity-toid” (33rd) whatever. Celtic Creole, almost. But there in the poorest mainland Americas nation, prices (of mostly British Commonwealth goods) equaled stateside USA levels. It’s a terrible place to be poor, whether Irish or not.
Let’s not forget the lovely Aisling Bea!