I often joke that I’m an adoptee of Irish and Syrian background, who married Serb … if that isn’t a recipe for terrorism, I don’t know what is.
However, I was adopted into an English family, so environment pushed my genetics to the background for a while. The English subjugated the Irish for centuries, triggering the Great Famine, and The Troubles. I have wrestled with my heart for decades. My childhood in an English environment pushed a very restrained way of living on me. When we went to the East Coast, I got in touch with my Irish roots – came a phone call away from contacting my birth mother who I’d learned was close to Charlottetown; when I went to Turkey, I got in touch with my Syrian roots. Now living in exile in downtown Toronto, I’m living near the AGO, an area that the Irish first came to during the Great Famine.
I was so lucky to have been in that family — harmonicas, player pianos, pinball machines, pool tables, ping pong tables, crazy New Year’s Parties with Uncle Wiggly at the piano, albums on the AM/FM/Stereo cabinet. And, an absolutely amazing Mother, you’re Grandma.
Study your blood roots, decide who you are and be true to it.