As part of our honeymoon, my husband and I drove across Ireland—Dublin to the Dingle Peninsula. That statement is a bit misleading as I, in fact, did not do one lick of driving because we rented a manual car that I was absolutely not equipped to drive but that my husband, the proud owner of a maroon-and-cream ’74 VW Bug in high school, was more than ready to drive (the checkout clerk’s multiple and severe warnings about extra charges for burning out the clutch notwithstanding).

En route we passed through Moneygall, which featured a large sign boasting of being Obama’s ancestral home. Then we passed through Tralee, my ancestral home, the home of my mother’s mother’s family. No sign about that yet, but they did have a large sign that said “Food served all day,” which seems as good an indication as any that my family came from there.


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