LAST MINUTE MUSINGS: What’s in a name? A lot more (or less) than you think

Over the years, I’ve come to describe my family background as Midwestern mutt.

We don’t exactly know where our people came from.

Jernagan isn’t a name that screams a particular nationality like, say, O’Malley or Van Dyke.

A relative told me when I was young she thought it was German. But what did our people know? Mom’s maiden name was Van Hook and some of our ancestors lived in Pennsylvania. So naturally we were thought we were Pennsylvania Dutch.

Turns out the Pennsylvania Dutch weren’t Dutch at all, but Deutsch — that is, German — and therefore more likely in the “von-” than “van-” family of surnames.

So it goes.

Later my brother did some research, learning that Jernagan is actually a variant of the English last name Jernigan. It seems there might have even been a manor house or castle that bore some version of our name.

The news that we’re English, though, came with a bit of disappointment for me. With the similarity to a name like Flanagan or Mulligan, I’d always kind of hoped to be Irish.

After all, I find it kind of hard to read any history of the relationship between the two largest of the British Isles and find much sympathy for the devil — I mean, English.

But, even if my ancestors may have been among the oppressors, I still get a bit carried away with trying to be more Irish this time of year.

You may call it cultural appropriation. I call it cultural appreciation.

But in my appreciation, I’ve found that the wrong name can spoil a lot more than one’s desired heritage.

Take, for example, a traditional Irish Aran sweater. I was in the market for one recently, until I discovered that if you just call it “cable knit,” you’ll immediately cut the asking price in half.

There’s power in a name.

Then there was my recent purchase of a bottle of Dempsey’s Irish whiskey. I’d never had this particular spirit before, but there it was on the shelf, several bucks cheaper than the other options (the first red flag) and bearing a truly Irish-sounding name like “Dempsey’s.”

What could go wrong? A lot apparently.

Now, I don’t have the well-trained whiskey palate of my co-worker Brand, but I know Irish whiskey when I taste it. I also know scotch. And for all the world I swear to you that Dempsey’s “Irish whiskey” is actually scotch.

Scotch is OK, but that wasn’t what I was buying.

However, not to make the bottle a total loss, I thought I’d brew some Irish punch — even if it might more truly be classified as “Scottish punch” in this case.

I knew the basic ingredients of punch from listening to The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem’s “The Jug of Punch” about a hundred times — Irish whiskey, hot water, lemons, sugar and cloves.

I just didn’t know the proper amounts in which to combine them, so I took to the internet.

Yet another mistake. In my search, I found all kinds of complicated recipes including ingredients like Genmaicha green tea syrup, peach bitters, clementine juice and grated coconut. I don’t believe these were the simple pleasures about which the Clancys sang.

You want to make an Irishman mad? Put coconut in his whiskey. Probably end up with a shillelagh sticking out your ear.

Eventually, I just gave up and tried my own mix. Went a little heavy on the cloves, I must say.

I wound up doing the right thing, ditching the bottle of Dempsey’s for some Tullamore D.E.W. Not that I drink a lot, but ... I’m much happier now.

Finally, I thought we should have some sort of Irish dish for St. Patrick’s Day, so again I took to the internet, and again I learned of the power of the wrong name.

I was excited as I found “65 Irish-inspired dinners your St. Patrick’s Day party is missing.”

However, I don’t know what the final 63 items on the list might have been because after opening the list with ”Keto corned beef and cabbage” and “vegan shepherd’s pie,” I gave up.

There go those names again. This time they killed my appetite.

Corned beef and cabbage has always been high-fat, low carb ­— it’s probably been Keto-friendly all along, you weirdos.

And vegan shepherd’s pie? Why’s the shepherd even wasting his time out on that hillside if no one is going to eat those sheep? You can only wear so much wool before you also want some mutton.

While my waistline lets me know that I should be more attuned to such health-conscious entrées, it’s just not what I’m looking for on a holiday.

Thanks for the vegan shepherd’s pie, Maloney. I’ll wash it down with some peach Irish punch. Better yet, you got any pumpkin spice Guinness?

I could go full Irish and simply drink my dinner tomorrow.

More likely, I’ll go with my son’s suggestion and make the color of the food abide by a theme.

We’re having green eggs and ham.

Hey, Seuss isn’t an Irish name, is it?