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which offers genealogy services.
I got a preliminary report, then the
lady directed me to a local bed-andbreakfast run by a Connor McNally.
Connor taught me that the McNally
name means ‘poor.’ The clan is known
as Black Irish, because the native
Irish mixed with Spanish survivors
of the Armada that wrecked off the
coast of Westport. He told me one
woman in my bloodline is legendary—
Grace O’Malley or Gráinne Ní Mháille,
the Pirate Queen.
forts” built by the Celts in the Iron
Age. Later that night, we went to a
pub to hear a fiddler, and I gave Irish
dancing a try.
The next morning, she introduced me
to Celtic Christianity and took me
to a beautiful Sunday service filled
with poetry, music and singing in
Gaelic. In town, she introduced me
to her friend, Bridget—a witch (or
Wiccan)—who taught me about
women as a healing force, which
was an interesting idea to me as
a physical therapist. Bridget
suggested I visit a well in Liscannor,
dedicated to her namesake, Saint
Brigid, the patron saint of women,
wanderers, and children born out of
wedlock. When I arrived at the well,
it was night, under a full moon, and
I met Bridget’s friend Naidra, a fellow
Wiccan, who had a six-fingered hand.
At this point of the trip, I was
wondering when I’d wake up and find
myself back in my bed in California.
Grace had been a strong-willed
woman of means, who lived in the
area during the sixteenth century.
Her family came from Clare Island,
just off the coast of Westport, and
she used it as a base of operations
for her seafaring adventures. She
attacked ships at sea and fortresses
on the coast--a real take-noprisoners kind of woman, admired for
protecting Ireland. She was respected
by men and women alike for her savvy
techniques and recognized as a leader
of fighting men, a real coup for
a woman, especially in those days.
Married several times to prominent
figures, Grace accumulated a great
deal of wealth, both through her
own escapades and her inheritances.
Grandma Pat had looked up to her as
a kind of role model, a w