Luck of the Irish

by Angela Sanford

  Are you superstitious? What do you consider a lucky talisman? Is it a shamrock or a four-leaf clover? Do you believe you have the luck of the Irish?

   Me? I’m lucky — lucky to live in East Hants, where the pace of life feels ever so slightly less intense than the wider world. I’m lucky to have a wonderful family nearby, and lucky to have an extended family through teaching, sports, community, and so much more.

   But by and large, I would not consider myself a “lucky” person — not in the pure sense of the word. However, if you believe luck happens where opportunity meets preparation, then perhaps I am lucky, and my Irish ancestors were among the luckiest people of all.

   Ireland, like many well-known countries, has faced its share of hardship across generations. On more than one occasion, masses of immigrants left its shores in search of opportunity. Some landed here in New Scotland, hoping to build a better life. That wasn’t luck — that was resilience. Still, it is my good fortune that some of those resilient family members made their way here.

   There are many pockets of Irish descendants throughout the province, and we benefit from the choices made by generations before us who settled here — and not somewhere else, perhaps farther south.

   Those same ancestors persevered through winter blizzards and changing seasons — conditions far more challenging than what I have experienced this winter — developing the survival skills necessary to endure. In that sense, I am the lucky one, because I no longer have to rely on those same skills.

Along the way, they also became storytellers, sharing their tales with wit and wisdom, entertaining others while perhaps easing the weight of the hardships they faced.

   So, I endure winter’s gripping claws while sharing a story or two of my own, with a sense of humour passed down through the generations. I feel lucky for that passion, though my “luck” requires steady development — because natural luck only goes so far.

   As one of my favourite people once said, “Hard work beats talent if talent doesn’t work hard.” The same can be said of luck. It may appear to be the dominant factor, but only when preparation and resilience are overlooked.

   In small communities, luck often looks like neighbours showing up for one another. How many times have we heard — or said ourselves — “We’re lucky to live here”? And we are. But it is also the result of choices made by those who came before us, and by those of us who continue to call this place home.

   Having spent my early years living in other provinces, it was my parents’ choice to settle permanently “at home.” They could have chosen somewhere else, but they didn’t. For that, once again, I consider myself lucky.

   In my view, luck isn’t the result of magic. It grows from the decisions we make throughout our lives — sometimes difficult ones, like emigrating from one’s homeland in search of a better future, and sometimes the decision to return home to build a life there.

   Either way, luck may appear natural and spontaneous. But if you trace its path carefully, you will often discover the long and sometimes arduous journey that led to what looks like a lucky destination.

   Perhaps that’s the real “luck of the Irish” — not magic hidden in a clover, but resilience, hard work, and the courage to start again. If that’s what luck really looks like, then I suppose I’m lucky after all.