For those of you who have read my newsletters over the years, you’re by now quite familiar with my Irish heritage. Hard to get away from it when you’re one of eight children and have 77 first cousins. Well, of those 8 children, the first 5 were boys (I like to refer to myself as “the oldest middle child” (I’ll do the math for you – I was number 4). People joked that my mom kept having kids until she got her daughter, but after Ellen – Danny and Elizabeth Ann (now known as Alannah) were still to come.
Because of our heritage, it seems at some point, we were all exposed to Irish cultural experiences. I’m not afraid to admit it now, but I took an immediate liking to Irish Dance. I practiced my “cross, kick, one, two, three, fours” like no other. I liked the music. I liked the teacher. I had fun and I liked the affirmation I got from my parents (sounds a bit like youth sports, huh). What I didn’t like was three older brothers who – very typical of the time – made it shall we say, challenging, at the very least to continue. I will give them the benefit of the doubt that they really just needed me to complete front yard 2 v. 2 rosters. My “dancing career” was not allowing them to have as much fun as they could with me. So, I gave up the hard shoes for the hard court – and mixed in 5 or 6 other sports along the way.
Keep Reading Here to see the rest