Personal Narrative - Mother Ireland :: Example Personal Narratives

Mother Ireland   My family is proud to boast a spacious and rich history mothered by the Emerald Isle of Erin, which is Gaelic for Ireland. My familys clan was premier c alled the ONeills, and we inhabited the outskirts of a small village which now goes by the urinate of County Cork. We were minstrels, actors and musicians in the courts of our familys home for many generations. An interesting piece of recent history about my family is that we are b matchlessyly related to the Kennedys on my fathers side. My grandmother was iodin of the Davises, who in some way were related intimately to the Fitzgeralds, who were John F. Kennedys mothers close family. And not too many people know this, but one of the young Kennedy ladies had the good fortune of marrying the famous Mr. Arnold Schwartzenagger.   I wish to go even farther screen, though, to the era of the Medieval Renaissance on the Isle, when my family own their own lands and estate, and the head of our famil y was known as one of the first rulers of Ireland. Our familys fastness and lands remain standing to this day, but are inhabited by no one for failure to pay twenty million dollars in back taxes over the past three hundred years. So now our familys fortification sits as a tourist attraction on the coast of Erin, as a reminder of the rich and time-honored beauty it has brought and will invariably bring to the Island.   Our family owes its debt of gratitude to one young man. The rule who was living in our familys castle at the time had two sons. At the time, having two sons meant that the ruler would bear to trust his lands and properties to one of them when he died. Since the ruler could not decide whom to entrust the castle to, he told them to have boat race around the shores of colorful Innish (Isle of the Seals, a small island off the coast of Ireland). So it was firm that whoever was first to touch the shoreline on the other side of the island would inheri t all of his fathers wealth. Well, the race was long and hard, and the younger son grew so tired that he could not row one second longer even though he was so close to the shoreline.