I spent the evening at a sort of family reunion. My uncle had prepared a list of his parents, siblings, and their children with birth and death dates. There were 32 of us present, and the crowd included a complement of spouses, children, and significant others.
On a cover sheet my uncle had provided a short narrative about our family, and included this old Gaelic saying:
There is nothing older than the hills, MacArthur and the Devil.
Perhaps an awkward position, to be between the hills and the Devil.