“Did I ever tell you about your maimeó and daideó? ’Bout their trip across the ocean?” I still didn’t look at him. “They was young. Not much older than you are now. Your daideó was kicked out of Ireland for—” “Selling a bull on a Sunday,” I huffed, pulling my blanket over my head. I’d heard this story about my grandparents before. I loved it. But I didn’t want to hear it right now.
This is a legend told in my own family about why my paternal ancestors immigrated from Ireland to the United States. There is no proof, and I have no idea whether it's true, but it's a fun story to tell nevertheless.
