I stopped writing in it the summer of 2012. I had great intentions, but it never really stuck. Plus, let's be honest, I've been going through some stuff. Hard stuff. And just when I felt like I had my head above water, another wrench was thrown in the plan and Heavenly Father reminds me that it's actually His time and His plan and not mine. Imagine that.
Plus, I've been blogging a lot more on my other blog, www.beingmarthabecomingmary.blogspot.com. Kerri (my best friend) and I started a spiritual blog, so if you get a chance, check it out. Over there, we talk a lot about daily struggles and lessons learned through the Gospel.
Finally, I thought no one read this hoopty. I mean, really, it's just me talking about whatever. I'm not even a great writer, and I hardly proofread. But when I went to post on the Being Martha, Becoming Mary blog, blogger logged me into this one. And I realized that there were a bunch of views of this blog yesterday alone. So SOMEONE is reading it, and I really hope it's not just one person who logs on a bunch of times a day to see if I've posted. Ew.
Anyway, since it is St. Patrick's day, I'm going to celebrate my people.
I come from a very strong Irish heritage. My ancestors fought to come to the U.S, and almost all of them entered the United States through Ellis Island. I didn't know this until fairly recently, when I started really working on my family history a year ago.
Family history is also how I came to know my grandfather, Dennis O'Leary (pictured center, above). I think to call him a badass would be an understatement, but because I also think he would be offended by the term, I won't actually call him that. But I kind of already did. Oh well, you get the point.
Grandpa O'Leary was a Deputy Sherriff in Silver Bow County, Montana, for a good chunk of his life. From what I understand, he loved it. But one election night in 1898 changed his path forever. I think that, in many ways, that night never left him. It also ultimately led to his death in 1912.
You see, grandpa O'leary was shot by masked gunmen that election night while protecting a voting booth. The battle between William A. Clark (the Republican) and Marcus Daly (the democrat) was fierce that year. So fierce, in fact, that both parties spared no expense in making sure their issues won out. They were down to the last count, and Daly was ahead. The Dublin Gulch precinct, where my grandpa was a sheriff, had yet to be heard from. As they were tallying the votes, armed robbers burst in and demanded everyone "reach for the ceiling". Instead of doing that, grandpa O'leary grappled with the gunmen as John J. Daly (an election clerk) rushed to his aid. The gunmen fired, and the election clerk was killed. Grandpa O'Leary suffered terrible wounds, including a shattered shoulderblade, and he was never able to work as a sheriff again.
Ultimately, the ballots were safe and Daly won the election. Had the armed robbers been successful, the outcome would've been much different and could have altered Montana history in serious ways. All because my grandpa, Dennis O'leary, didn't hesitate to grab the barrel of a gun.
He did so many other things, such as going on to be a watchman at a mine when he could no longer work as a sheriff. But I love this story best. It speaks courage to me, and gives me a little piece of my story as well. I now know where I get most of my sassiness from, and, I believe, the reason I don't take any crap from anyone. Thanks, grandpa.
I hope you all enjoyed your St. Patricks day!
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