Everybody wants to be Irish on St. Patrick's Day. Luckily, some of us are

“Everybody's Irish on St. Patrick's Day!”

I don't know the source of that quotation, and certainly, it's not technically accurate.

For me, however, it's at least partially true.

I grew up Kathleen Ronan, the daughter of Frank L. Ronan, eldest child of Frank Ronan and his wife Annette Sico Ronan.

I never met my paternal grandfather, who died when my dad was 16 years old.

As I write this column, I am embarrassed to admit that I know nothing about my Ronan heritage. I do know that my grandfather had two brothers, Hubert and William, but I don't know if there were more siblings or when his Irish forebears immigrated to America.

I know a bit more about my mom’s side of me. Her dad, first-generation American Otto Mielke, was of German heritage. The obituary from the local newspaper reported the death of my great grandfather Henry W. Mielke. The headline of the brief article was “One Time Florist For Emperor, Dead.” That emperor was Otto von Bismarck.

My maternal grandmother ,Margaret Teehan Mielke, immigrated from Ireland, following a brother Tom and sisters Katherine and Abbey to the United States. My own mother recalled her mom saying, “If I had the money, I would have gotten right back on the boat."

I believe Margaret met Otto while they were working at an estate in Long Branch, N.J., not far from the Atlantic Ocean beaches. They married, had twin daughters who died as babies and were survived by daughters Mary, Alice, my mom Katherine and son Henry.

A love of reading is too good not to share

"Pop Otto" died in 1928, and Margaret, known as “Mom Mom,” lived in Long Branch for 40 years until her passing in March 1953 at the age of 64.

I never knew either of my grandfathers. My dad's mom, Nana Nette, lived to the age of 92, so I got to love and enjoy her for many years.

Her four children included my dad, younger twin sisters Marie and Louise, and the youngest, James, my godfather and delightfully crazy Uncle Jimmy.

The young widow worked in a coat factory and sewed wonderful dresses for her eight little granddaughters. She shared her wonderful Italian tomato sauce recipe with her daughter-in-law — my mom, Katherine, known as Kaddy.

I was 3 when Mom Mom, my Irish grandmother, died. My single memory of her was a “horsey ride” sitting on her ankle, holding her hands as she bounced her leg up and down.

Sadly, I don't know of any Irish recipes passed down by her.

Very, very sadly, I don't know much else about my ancestors.

I am sure that there are countless good stories — interesting and informative stories — about these people from earlier times.

My dear friend Sally has been researching her family story and has dipped a tiny bit into mine. I will ask her to tutor me and be the guide to my Italian, German and mostly Irish heritage.

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Kate Coleman is a Herald-Mail lifestyle columnist.

This article originally appeared on The Herald-Mail: Hail St. Patrick's Day — and celebrate Irish heritage