It's the only part I care about

I'm a Wilk. There - now those who don't know my last name now know what it is. Wilk is Polish. It's direct translation is "wolf". I like to believe I am a little more refined than the wolf from the Tex Avery cartoon. For those unaware, the celebration for Polish is Thursday - St. Joseph's Day. Little fun personal fact: my childen have only had doctor's with the last name of Wilk. So they have spent their entire lives giving the name of their doctor, and then answering the inevitable followup question with "no, we are not related".

But there is more than enough of me that is Irish. My grandmother from my mom's side was born here, but her mother came over from Ireland in the 1880's as a small child. My wife is half Irish and half Scottish. For all my life growing up, we paid more attention to the ancestry that came from the emerald isle. Divorce will do that, I guess.

It's funny, though. There is a whole month devoted to Black History. There's Ramadan for Muslims, Hanukkah for Jewish folks and Cinco de Mayo for Mexicans. You have Russian's May Day, Canada Day...I could go on. Each nationality or religion has their own special day. But come March 17th, every SOB wants to be Irish. Cad é an ifreann?!

Well, celebrate it anyway.

Whether you're an O'Dell or an O'Neill...

a Keegan or a Kealey...

a McMahon or a McNertney...

or a Hogan or Dunn. By the way, when my grandma and aunt (well, great aunt) did a trip to Ireland to trace our family line, I come from the house of Hogan. So Ben and I are related somewhere back in time.

Be safe and have fun. But if you're not Irish, get your own damn holiday!