Little Grey Bungalow
My husband's great- (or possibly great-great-) grandfather was a member of the Order of the Orange in, I think, Chicago. He marched with the Order on St. Patrick's day, got hit in the head by a flying brick, and died of it.Yeah, long line of contrarians . . . .
My father always insisted that his Uncle Patrick, who fought in WWI (along with five of his six brothers) was in a unit that one day was reviewed by King George.Uncle Pat looked at the man standing next to him and hissed, "Faith now, Dennis! If I had a brick, I could free all Ireland!"I think every Irish family tells the same story.
My mom always wore orange on St. Patrick's Day, but she was German Lutheran. (They are the worst kind; I know - I suffered under one for 68 years!) She was just contrary enough to make sure everybody knew she was Protestant, not Catholic.
My heritage is Orange Irish. Every year an old friend of mine calls me on the Glorious 12th of July to mock me and I return the favour on March 17th.Best orange wishes to the spousal unit!Anne of Toronto
He says thank you.
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