Lighten Up: A special family connection

And I'm only mentioning it here today, because I recently grew a grey beard, and I now can see the family resemblance as clear as day. I see Saint Patrick every time I look in the mirror.

My story with Saint Patrick began many years ago when I decided to piece together the family tree. About 20 years ago, family trees were all the rage, with people wondering under what stone it was that they came crawling out from under.

Anyhow, back then I enlisted the help of a great man with regards to the family tree. A genius in genealogy. He wasn't cheap... good men rarely are. But boy was he thorough.

Using dusty old manuscripts and centuries-old parish registers, he began to dig deep. And with the assistance of computers and various other contraptions, far too numerous and complex to describe here, he went deeper again.

Within no time he was almost in Australia, with the height of digging. Anyhow, one day he began to rub his eyes vigorously and shake his head in a most unusual way.

Fearing that he was having a medical episode, for he was far from young, I ran to his side.

"Are you alright there, old timer?" I asked, for clearly something was amiss.

"Oh Denny boy," says he, when eventually he came round, "I have never been better. I have made a startling discovery with regards to your family tree. You may need to sit down."

And once I did, he continued.

"I have discovered," says he, "That you might be related to Saint Patrick. Everything is pointing in that direction. I just have to do a few more tests."

He then showed me an old manuscript which he claimed detailed the path to Patrick.

"You are his sixteenth cousin once removed," my boffin of bloodlines announced, pointing his finger at some specific paragraph. Now being a man only used to the outdoors, and not well versed with books, I couldn't make head nor tell of the manuscript.

But he was excited, so I took what he was saying at face value. Next, turning to me he asked a few probing questions, with regards to family life.

"Tell me," says he, "Have you ever had sheep on the farm?"

"Oh yes I have," says I.

"And what do you think of sheep farming?" he asked.

"Utter slavery," I responded. He ticked a box.

Then he asked me about snakes. He inquired as to what my view was of the slimy devils. I told him that I hated snakes and would kill them all given half the chance.

"Excellent stuff,'" says he. Another box ticked.

And finally, taking two tissues from a drawer, he asked me to blow my nose vigorously into one and spit generously into the other. I did as I was told.

Then, taking the two samples, he looked at them under a high-powered telescope, or maybe it was a microscope. Who knows? Regardless, it was a high-powered yoke, that could see things far beyond the naked eye.

And soon the results were in... the cat was out of the bag... we had a winner.

"You are related to Saint Patrick!" My scientist proclaimed.

The manuscript had shown it was possible; science had confirmed the fact.

"If you are not related to Saint Patrick," my worn-out researcher said, "Well then I'm a monkey's uncle."

And you couldn't ask for more proof than that. Anyhow, time passed and as with most things in life, I soon forgot about the famous discovery.

But now with age upon me and a grey beard on my face, Saint Patrick has returned. And as I stare at my reflection, I think of old Ireland and all the years that have passed between his time and my own.

Anyhow this week, as we celebrate the wonderful life of Saint Patrick, I will not only be raising my glass in honour of Ireland's greatest legend, but also, I will be raising my glass in honour of my family's most famous ancestor, my sixteenth cousin once removed.