"Luck of the Irish" by Randell Jones
– a hushed-up story
A family-history mystery uncovered long after the departing of everyone involved, everyone loved.
Randell Jones is an award-winning history writer about the pioneer and Revolutionary War eras. From 2007 through 2019, he served as an invited member of the Road Scholars Speakers Bureau of the North Carolina Humanities Council. In 2013, the National Society, Daughters of the American Revolution conferred upon him its national History Award Medal for his body of work during the prior 10 years. He regards that as his personal “Nobel Prize” for history and writing. He created the Personal Story Publishing Project and the companion podcast, “6-minute Stories” to encourage writers. He lives in Winston-Salem, NC.
Author’s Talk
Happy St. Patrick’s Day! It’s a better occasion to celebrate in America than in Ireland, I understand. Over there it’s treated a good bit more solemnly, a religious holiday. All the frivolity and foolishness are on this side of the pond, where we Americans of Irish and Scots-Irish decent proudly claim our Emerald Isle heritage. My mother was a McBride, so that’ll punch my ticket for admission to the festivities. And my grands are Quigleys, so we’ll all dance a jig together.
The story “Luck of the Irish,” is a story of family history. I began research into my family tree before I was 30. Most people start after they retire and then they run out of time before they solve all the mysteries they have stirred up. But I did not have to stir up much. The anomaly of interest in this story was apparent. It was not staring me in the face, nor sending me Christmas presents, nor hugging me on frequent visits. I was missing two grandparents on one side of my family. It should have been obvious, but there were no pictures or stories, and nothing was ever said. By the age one figures something out like that, he knows enough not to ask. So, I didn’t. And the best opportunity to find out the truth, as so often happens, slipped away before I knew for sure. So, this story is dedicated to my mother, Kathleen.
Writing has become a practice and a purpose in the second half of my life so far—Act 2 (or Act 3, if the truth be known). I have never pursued it for professional pay although I happily sell and sign my several history books when readers are attracted to them. If I had to offer an origin story for my writing life, it would be this: I was on a business trip 30 years ago, fast asleep, when I bolted upright in bed as if someone had slapped
Kathleen McBride, c. 1924
me awake. I went to the desk in the hotel room and wrote out in pencil on a yellow legal pad the story of my first home run, at the age of 11. I’d never written anything of that nature before, but that story was ready to be let out. Release the hounds! Some force in my life was telling me to get started. So, I did. I hope it’s happy. I am. - Randell Jones
Happy St. Patrick’s Day.
Be safe. Spread kindness. Keep writing.
