I have some Irish in my heritage.

Even though the name Seagraves has it roots in England (spelled Segrave back then).

There’s a village named Seagrave which may or may not been given to one of my ancestors.

Either that or I’m a dirt relative.

And with my luck digging around in the family tree that’s probably it.

(Dirt relative is someone that has the same name as say the lord or knight, but they got the name from the town not the family.)

Then some of the Segrave line moved to Ireland.

Two Segrave’s men moved to the US from Ireland at around 1700 or so. One was a minister, Francis Segrave, who settle in the Isle of Wright with his four kids (his two sons later married and had thirteen children each), and the other arrived here in chains.

James Segrave was a bad boy, his father’s will reflected that. I’m not sure what James did but he ended up in a penal colony here in the US.

James escaped and made his way to New Jersey, where he opened a pub and started brewing beer. And called himself George.

It turns out he was a master brewer back in Ireland (a family business). And where James the convict couldn’t get a licence to run a pub—George could.

Guess which one I’m descended from?

If you have a glass of green beer today to honor St. Paddy make a toast to my ancestor James (George) Seagraves Brewery Master and escaped convict, without whom I wouldn’t be here.