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When I was younger, St. Patrick’s Day meant wearing green and heading to a party. But over the years, as I’ve traced the paths of my ancestors, the day has taken on a deeper meaning. It’s a time to honor the journeys, struggles, and resilience of those who came before us—no matter where they were from.
Genealogy has been a passion of mine for 15 years. It started with my own family tree, but it has led me to help dozens of others uncover lost family connections. One of the most profound moments in my research happened just two years ago when my brother Brian and I set out to find the homestead of our ancestor, George Bryson Armour. Using 1800s census maps and modern roads, we followed the old Grand Trunk Railway through Hastings County, across Campbellford and Percy Township, and into Peterborough.
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There, along a stretch of land called the Dutch Line, we found it—the land they had cleared and cultivated, the place they had called home. A hidden cemetery, overgrown with lilacs and lilies, held six of our ancestors’ graves. On the headstone of George Bryson Armour, husband of Eliza Pickens, it was inscribed that they were immigrants from Ireland. They were Ulster Scots, leaving behind their homeland to carve out a new life in Canada.
This discovery reminded me of why preserving family history is so important. My father had a stroke in his late 50s, leaving him with aphasia, making it difficult to share stories and memories. When I was younger, I didn’t ask enough questions—but genealogy has given me a way to find the answers.
So, on St. Patrick’s Day, I raise a glass not just to the Irish but to all our ancestors, wherever they may be from. We celebrate their courage, their endurance, and the lives they built that led to ours.
And to my Scottish friends—well, you may not be Irish today, but cheers to you, too.
