It's funny. I see
it everytime I enter the house, yet I don't ever really "see" it. It's been there my entire life, yet, only now has it actually occured to me. We have a family coat of arms.
Esse quam videri -
To be, rather than to seem. That's pretty cool. Four lions - also pretty damn awesome. What looks to be a knight's helm? Sweet. A trio of partridges, a form of poultry often hunted for food or sport... crap. Here are some interesting facts I can pull from my head about the paternal side of my family.
- With the exception of those born here, not a single Partridge is a Citizen of Australia. If you've ever heard that part of my family get together and talk amongst themselves in that crazy moon language of theirs, you'd find the term
resident alien to be quite apt. Going by the traditional meaning of the word (european immigrant), half of my family are
wogs.
- Partridges have a proud military tradition. My Grandfather was in some Scottish unit in World War 2. My uncle fought in Vietnam, was exposed to Agent Orange, and subsequently died of cancer many years later. My father, uh... likes war movies. I kicked a tree once. Fighting is in our blood.
- Partridges are very short. My siblings and I see this as the primary piece of evidence that proves we were adopted. Let's hope.
- Even if you've been in the country for over 40 years, mastering the Australian accent is simply beyond our clan. I'm still amazed that Sunny wasn't born here. My father came here at an earlier age than him, has been here far, far longer, and at least didn't need to learn a new language. Take a guess which of you two I can understand perfectly and who I just nod and smile to.
