Who is the us in U.S.?

Way back when, a bunch of Puritans fled England to practice their religious beliefs.  They pushed back the people who were already here.  Later, they persecuted Quakers who publicly preached a different religious view.

Opportunists saw large areas of land to raise cotton and tobacco.  By hook or crook they laid claims to that land, pushing back the people who were already there.  To make matters worse, they bought people who were kidnapped from their homes and put on ships in chains.  They put these people to hard work, whipping them if they slacked off or showed any signs of independence.  They often quoted select passages from the Bible to justify the situation, completely ignoring “Do unto others…"

Later on, Irish escaped the famine brought on partly because the English took away some of the best farmland.  When they came to the U.S., they were often greeted with signs “No Irish need apply!”  Now people who have no Irish ancestry celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.

Swedes came in large numbers for better farmland than was available in Sweden.  Because their English was not perfect they were often called “dumb Swedes”.  This dumb whatever naming continued when immigrants from many other lands came to the U.S.

Russian Jews had their land expropriated by Tsarist thugs.  They fled to the U.S. and made many cultural and business contributions.  At the same time they were ostracized by “Christians” and kept out of many groups.

People of European descent kept pushing west taking land from Indians and Mexicans.  For a variety of reasons, successive governments in Mexico were often corrupt and did not create an economy that benefited all the people.  Many of these people sought jobs in the U.S., often in land that once was Mexico.  They are paid lower wages than those whose ancestors took the land would accept.

The U.S. waged several wars in the Mideast to ensure a supply of oil, often corrupting or overthrowing governments to do so.  Many people from these countries fled to the U.S. for a more stable life.  Also large corporations hired many of the highly educated of these people because they worked for less and the corporations didn’t have to pay the taxes to educate them.

On and on it goes.  “Why don’t you go back to where you came from?”  This is directed at people whose families have been here for generations as well as people who have helped enhance the bottom line of large corporations.  And how does one go back to where they came from if their ancestors came from many different places?

On top of all of this, the descendants of dissenters who left their homelands now want others to believe just as they do.

“When will we ever learn!”

I am American, not Irish!

 “On St. Patrick’s Day, everyone is Irish!”  Really?  Just what is Irish?  Is it the ruffian who flung his elbow in my face as he passed me in Killkenny?  Or is it the people named McGree who invited me to their home for dinner?  Is it the parish priest who let me look through church records?  Or is it the woman who smoked in the no-smoking car on the train back to Dublin.  Just like any other group, ethnic, religious, or skin hue, there are many different behaviors from the generous to the hateful.

One St. Patrick’s Day, my mother proclaimed that we were “Orange-Irish”.  I don’t think she had a clue.  If she knew the ancestry of my paternal grandfather, she certainly didn’t pass it on to me.  Neither did my German-born paternal grandmother.

From all the genealogical research I’ve done, it seems that the surname Magree, McGree, or MacGree comes from Ireland.  However, from all the genealogical research I’ve done, I have found no ancestor in my male line that was definitively born in Ireland.

The closest was my great grandfather, John J.R. Magree, who variously claimed to be born in Brooklyn or England.  In the last year or two I found that he was born in Liverpool of an American and a woman living in Liverpool.  Her name was Margaret Pope.  Her father was a customs officer, and so I assume she was not born in Ireland.

John James Richard Magree’s father was John Cornelius Magree, who generally went by John C. Magree.  I did find a record of his getting his seaman’s certificate in 1833 at the age of 15.  In the 1850 census he was listed first in a crew of a ship in New York or Brooklyn.   In 1851 he was the master of the ship Ivanhoe bringing about 400 immigrants from Liverpool to New York.  Most of the passengers were Irish.  I did not find a Margaret Pope or Margaret Magree in the passenger list.

I did link John C. Magree to his father twice.  John C.’s marriage document named his father as Vincent Magree.  The 1830 Census did list Vincent Magree’s household as containing a male about 12 years old.

With Ancestor,com, I can find no record other than these two of Vincent Magree.  I wonder if he (or others) anglicized his name from Vincenzo Magri to Vincent Magree.  I have found records where a Magri has also been named Magree.  It’s possible that my paternal line comes from Italy;  one relative told me that one of uncles looked “Spanish”.  I do know that I was one of the few “curly-haired” males in my family.

Just who are these “Irish” that the English of another time called a “race”?  We do know they were Celts who drove out another group.  Was this displaced group the “fairies”?  But then the Vikings came raping and pillaging.  After that another wave of Vikings came, but they were called Normans (Norse men).  But the Normans had settled in France, so are the Irish French?  Partly!  Names like Fitzpatrick come from the French Fils-Patrick, meaning son of Patrick.  Then the English came a-pillaging and taking land.  This invasion was so devastating that many Irish left for the Americas and Australia.

When the descendants of the Irish immigrants to Australia come to the United States, what do we call them?  Australians!

I do know that many grandchildren of people who immigrated to other countries are often labelled with their ancestry, but I don’t know if these labels persist for so many generations as they do in the U.S.  I enjoy springing the question “What nationality is the King of Sweden?”  By American reckoning he is French.  He is a descendant of one of Napoleon’s marshals: Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte!  Some often respond that Queen Elizabeth II is German.  She’s a descendant of Prince Albert of Saxony.

What are people who immigrate to the U.S. or their descendants called when they go back the “Old Country”?  Americans!   I read one Swedish novel where a man worked in Chicago for several years, came back to his home town, and was labelled as “American”.  I read another where a second-generation woman came back, could hardly speak Swedish, and was called “American”.

I was an “Ugly American” in Europe for six years.  If you read “The Ugly American” you know that he was the good guy in the local view and the “bad guy” in the expatriate community.  “The Ugly American” learned the language and customs of the host country, and he didn’t spend all of his time in the “country club” American community.

I worked on learning the languages of the countries I visited and used them both in speaking and reading.  A few others didn’t even make an attempt and were miserable.  In fact, one European colleague called me a “Northern European” because I worked at blending in.

But I can’t resist being the other kind of “Ugly American” in this country.  When someone says they are Swedish or Italian, I ask “Talar du svenska?” or “Parlai italiano?”  “Do you speak Swedish?” or “Do you speak Italian?”  Generally the response is either befuddlement or a negative reply.

So, this assumed descendant of some Irish immigrant won’t be drinking green beer on St. Patrick’s Day.  As much as he likes Guinness or Smithwick, he will probably be drinking a couple of glasses of Italian wine.  Sláinte or cin-cin!

Also printed in the Reader Weekly of Duluth, 2016-03-17 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2016/03/17/6888_i_am_american_not_irish.

P.S. About green beer and other "Irish" fare, see http://www.nytimes.com/2016/03/18/dining/corned-beef-and-cabbage-not-so-irish-historians-say.html.

Don’t listen to your parents

This is probably not the best advice at this time of year, but I assume most of my readers are not expecting fantabulous gifts under the tree from Santa or their parents.

I’ve had lots of fun with the mantra:

Don’t listen to your parents!
They tell you to act your age.
If you act your age, you’ll grow up.
If you grow up, you’ll get old.
If you get old, you’ll die.
So, why act your age?

I’ve done my share of listening to my parents and other parental figures, and taking their advice to heart.  I’ve also done my share of ignoring advice, either because of orneriness or because the advice was just plain wrong.

I think the best advice was just plain encouragement: get good grades.  Sometimes that encouragement also took the form of a dime or a quarter for each A on my report card.  A dime?  That’s not much!  Ah, but I grew up at a time when a movie ticket was ten cents, and candy bars and ice cream cones were a nickel.

My encouragement was also by example.  We had lots of magazines and newspapers in the house, and my brother and I were given books from time-to-time.

My parents were divorced before I started school, and my father “bribed” us with neat Christmas gifts that encouraged creative play.  Among these were train sets and Erector sets.  Our imaginations soared, even as we had difficulty getting every square nut to turn easily on the small screws.

Then there was the advice that was off-the mark or just plain wrong.

One year about St. Patrick’s day we were getting dressed to go somewhere and my brother and I wondered about wearing green.  My mother replied, “We’re Orange Irish!”  As far as we knew, Magree was an Irish name, but we had no knowledge of any ancestor coming from Ireland.  Plus, because of the divorce, my mother had very little contact with her father-in-law and knew very little of our father’s family history.  If she did, she never shared it with us.  On her side, her grandparents were born in England or Germany.

Many decades later, I pieced together that my Magree line was resident in the United States since at least 1830.  An irony was that my great-grandfather was born in England, though he sometimes claimed to be born in Brooklyn.  His father was probably born in Baltimore, and the closest record I have of him having any Irish connection is being the master of a ship in 1851 bringing mostly Irish immigrants from Liverpool to New York.

So much for being Orange-Irish.

When I proposed to my wife-to-be (Jan), my mother didn’t think she was suitable for me and that the marriage would not last.  Sorry, Mom, but it has lasted longer than your two marriages put together.

Before I met Jan, I had flunked out of Case Institute of Technology.  I considered going to Ohio Wesleyan in the middle of Ohio, but my mother didn’t like that.  I wouldn’t be in Cleveland where she could see me more often.  Well, I did go to Ohio Wesleyan and got good enough grades to get into graduate school at Case.

Because of the divorce, I didn’t see my father much and so didn’t get much advice from him.

I did ask him for a loan of $107 to pay for my meals at Ohio Wesleyan for one semester.  When I tried to pay him back, he refused to accept it.

None of his seven children followed his example on education.  He dropped out after the eleventh grade.  All finished high school, five received college degrees, and two of those did graduate work.

But the advice from my Dad that I chuckle about the most is that music must be foot-tapping.  Probably ninety percent of the time that I turn on MPR the music has a strong beat.  Today, it was L’Arlésienne by George Bizet (and I identified it within two minutes!)  If you are not familiar with it, it is the piece that “The Prisoner” times over and over again, getting a different time for each record.

My mother remarried when I was fifteen.  My stepfather insisted that we use Desenex (and only Desenex) on our feet every morning and that we polish our shoes every week.  He did have a point because he had been hospitalized with athlete’s foot some years before.  I haven’t checked with my brother, but I rarely powder my feet.  If I do, it’s with Desenex only because I happen to have it on the shelf.  Polish shoes?  One does not polish today’s athletic shoes, and I can’t even get myself to oil work boots with any regularity.

My last piece of ignored advice is not from a parent, but a teacher.  In my high school boys had to take a semester class called “Personal Regimen”.  I won’t go into the details of the class, but we could get an F for wearing Levis.  I had been wearing Levis since junior high school ($4.95 a pair) and my mother liked them because they were easier to wash than many other pants.  Sixty years plus later, I wear jeans almost all the time: to church, concerts, theater, restaurants, and more.

Oh, one last word.  The best thing I got out of Personal Regimen was learning to tie a tie.  If I really need to, I can still tie a Windsor knot without looking in the mirror.

When people ask Mel’s age, he tells them to guess.  The latest guesser took six tries to guess, all but the last under.

Distortions in family history

If you are working on your family history, be careful of what you are told.  What you are told could be made up or it could be misinterpreted.  Document everything and then crosscheck it with other documents.

The most blatant tale that I can think of is what my mother told me around a St. Patrick's Day.  She said, "We are Orange Irish."  One, her ancestors were from England and Germany, not Ireland.  Two, she didn't know any of her in-laws besides her U.S. born father-in-law and German-born mother-in-law.

So far, I have found only one Magree ancestor going back four generations that was not born in the United States.  My great grandfather, John James Richard Magree, was born in Liverpool, England of an American father and an English mother.  Given that her maiden name was Pope, she may or may not have had Irish ancestors.  Many Irish immigrated to Liverpool.  However, all of the other records that I have for him say he was born in the U.S. and more specifically in Brooklyn.

I do know that the name Magree is centered in Kilkenny, Ireland and some of those Magrees are buried in a Catholic Church cemetery.  If my Magree ancestors were from there, they most likely would have been Catholic.

I was told that my grandfather was born in Poughkeepsie, New York.  But his death certificate gives Brooklyn, his parents were in a Brooklyn city directory at the time of his birth, and one of his sister's birth certificates gives that same address.  But somebody else on ancestry.com has that sister born in Poughkeepsie!

I read the death certificate of my paternal grandmother's father as his birthplace being "Schlossing"; the information was provided by one of his sons.  Knowing my grandmother was born in Germany I kept looking for a town with that name.  Then it dawned on me that it should be "Schlesien", German for Silesia.  Silesia is now mostly in Poland.  Somebody else on ancestry.com had his birth as "Schlassing".  As part of checking if my grandmother may have been Catholic, I looked up Silesia.  I learned that there is a Silesian German and the speakers call themselves Schlässinger.  I have since found out that my grandmother's town of leaving was called Osseg; it is now Osiek in Polish.

I have learned so much family history in the last thirty years, but I will need another thirty years to even fill in details about the people whose names I know.

But, regardless of where my ancestors came from, I do not consider myself Orange Irish or Green Irish or German or Polish or even Brooklynite:)  My nationality is American!
See also What nationality are you?  An irrelevant question!

My nationality is American

A favorite conversational item of many Americans is "What nationality are you?"  This happens often because we are a nation of immigrants from elsewhere or the descendants of immigrants.  But how is it that the nationality of someone from Canada is Canadian and from Australia is Australian?

One of my favorite comebacks is "What nationality is the King of Sweden?"  Following the male line back, he's French; he's descended from Marechal Bernadotte, one of Napoleon's marshals.

As for me, my paternal grandmother is the only immigrant among my grandparents; she was born in Silesia, at that time part of Germany.  The other three were all born in the United States.  As I hardly knew my grandmother, I didn't have much German influence.

Of my great-grandparents, four were born in Germany, three were born in England, and one supposedly was born in Brooklyn.  More about him later.  I never knew my German great-grandparents, and we never had any German traditions in our house.  I only knew my mother's paternal grandmother, and the only thing English I experienced from her was tea, with Carnation milk!

As for the supposedly Brooklyn-born great-grandfather, I've found some indications that he probably was born in Liverpool, England.  Most of the records for him give his name as John J.R. Magree, but Brooklyn has no birth certificate for him.  I did find two Liverpool records for the child John James Robert Magree.  His mother may have been Irish or English, but his father was John Cornelius Magree, probably the John C. Magree who was the master of the Ship Ivanhoe bringing immigrants from Liverpool to New York in Jan 1851.  There was no John J.R. Magree in the passenger list.  Interestingly, on his marriage record, John C.'s father was Vinsent Magree [sic], Vincent Magree was in Baltimore in the 1830 Census.

Other than possibly John C.s marriage in Liverpool, I have found no ancestor that I can link to Ireland.

My only Irish link to the name Magree is from Magree's I contacted in Australia.  They can trace their Magree ancestors to Kilkenny, Ireland, and even to some specific pieces of land.

Interestingly, on one St. Patrick's Day, my mother said "We are Orange Irish".  Other than her in-laws, she knew nothing of my father's grandparents.

Having lived in Italy for two years and in Sweden for four years, I like to kid that I am more Italian than many Americans that call themselves Italian and likewise for "Swedes".

Jon Stewart - Off-the-wall and on the point

I don't watch television and especially late night television.  Fortunately, others provide interesting snippets of various shows online.  Both Huffington Post and the Coffee Party USA do so with many interesting pieces of editorializing of news by Jon Stewart.  I don't think I could take a whole hour of his manic activity, but I've found many five to six minute outtakes that are off-the-wall and on the point.

One such piece was "Jon Stewart Slams Bill O'Reilly Over 'Traditional America' Hysteria", Huffington Post, 2011-11-16.

Bill O'Reilly bemoaned that "traditional America" is disappearing with this election.  Stewart simply demonstrated that "traditional America" has always been changing.  Stewart reminded O'Reilly about "No Irish need apply."  My choice of words; Stewart used news clips and editorials from the 19th Century and other eras of anti-immigrant complaints.

St. Who Day?

Today there will be a lot of parades, a lot of drinking of green beer, a lot of wearing some bit of green, a lot of music by Irish composers. I'll be only participating in the last if I happen to have the radio on. Why should I do anything more? Especially drinking green(?) beer. Good God! There is plenty of good Irish beer without adulterating it with green food coloring.

With the name Magree, I must be Irish, right? Well, four of my great-grandparents were born in Germany, at least two in England and maybe a third, and one was born in Brooklyn, New York. That is the one who had the name Magree. I have been unable to find much more about his ancestry other than the 1870 census, which said his parents came from England. Born in England? Took a ship from England?

My mother said we were "orange Irish", but she never knew her grandfather-in-law who left the family before my mother was even born. I think she said that because her family tradition was Protestant, mostly Methodist.

I did poke around a bit in various records and found that all those named Magree or McGree who can trace their ancestry into the nineteenth century can trace it to Kilkenny. I visited Kilkenny in 1979 to see if I could find any leads. Many people were helpful but I found nothing of direct use to me. And guess what my "nationality" was when I was there? American!

We have often enjoyed receiving a St. Patrick's Day card from a distant cousin (I assume we have a common ancestor in the 18th Century). The "Irish sailor" that she supposedly descended from might have been born in Baltimore MD in 1818 and became a ship's master of immigrant ships. My distant cousin has never confirmed that this person is her ancestor. Of course, this John C. Magree could be my great-great-grandfather as he would have been 22 when my great-grandfather was born.

Yes, it is fun to know where one's ancestors came from, but for many of us their origin has little to do with our own personal culture. In fact, we have more Swedish culture in our family than any of our ancestors' cultures; this happened because we lived in Sweden for four years. Furthermore, there is no such thing as English genes, German genes, Italian genes, and so on. Almost any "national group" is an amalgam of people from a wide area.

Enough! I'm not going to have any beer today, Irish or otherwise. My beverage budget is spent for the month. If you are so inclined, I hope you have a fun time on a day that is a good excuse for a party.

May the road come up to meet your feet (and not your face).