Not Just a Holiday For the Lush in You:
O Ruairc of Breifne


[The Family Crest]

When I was little I had this huge green and white button that read, “Kiss Me I’m Irish.” I loved this button and would wear it whenever possible, regardless of whether or not it was St. Patrick’s Day. My mother’s father used to tell stories about all these different ancestors we supposedly had and their various amazing feats. Between the Cherokee chief’s daughter and the Irish warriors, I never really believed any one of them completely. But I had decided that it wasn't really important whether or not the story had actually happened; just listening to him tell it was purpose enough. So, imagine my surprise when I go to Ireland and find a book about the family that bred my mother.

O’Roark is our family name. I am going to sum up our story, in honor of St. Patrick’s Day:
Tighernan (pronounced tear-nann) O’Ruairc was the chieftan / king of Breifne, a small part of Ireland. It’s 1122. He woos and marries the daughter, Dervorgil, of the High King of Ireland. They are both strong-willed and fiery-tempered. There is a lot of fighting among the chieftans (though no one argues the position of the High King). One chieftan, Dermot MacMurrough, joins forces with some others to fight O’Ruairc and “kidnap” his wife. Somehow the little lady finds time to pack her furniture and livestock (wink wink, nudge nudge). Turns out O’Ruairc could be a little heavy-handed. So Dervorgil saw her opportunity and left him. Well, maybe old MacMurrough wasn’t all she had hoped (know what I mean?) and she goes back to O’Ruairc. The boys continue sparring back and forth, time after time. MacMurrough just can’t seem to whip O’Ruairc, and he is running out of people to help him fight. He has been beaten AND humiliated by this one clan. He is desperate. So he goes to England, then Wales, to find warriors to help him fight O’Ruairc. The Brits are plenty anxious to conquer new lands and achieve new riches. Thus begins the British Invasion of Ireland in 1167, to be followed by the conqueror “Strongbow” in 1170, who slaughtered so many sons and daughters of Ireland. O’Ruairc was betrayed and murdered; beheaded at what he thought was going to be a parley. The British gained control of the country, and to this day... well, you know the rest.
Grandpa couldn’t have made this stuff up! O Ruairc of Breifne by Betty Mac Dremot is the book it came out of.
Thomas Moore, the 19th century poet, even wrote a (rather tedious) poem about them, called “The Song of O Ruark, Prince of Breffni.” I hope you enjoy the three generations of modern Irish (and German, Native American, British mutt) princesses in the pictures. That’s our story - an entire line of stunning women, worthy of invading small countries over.

"...I am all at once what Christ is, / since he was what I am, and
This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, / patch, matchwood, immortal diamond,
Is immortal diamond." ~ Gerard Manley Hopkins