We're Celts, pretty much. I grew up wearing these ancient kilts, truly threadbare as a matter of course, Stuart tartan and the wedding tartan.The family tree is on badly yellowed, brittle papers in iron bound trunks in the attic, preserved through centuries although Nana could faultlessly recite 200 years worth from the top of er head. It's just part of the family which never left.I bought my grandson his first tartan last year, so teeny! We mean it, though, it's not just some genealogical fancy. My Nana, my great grandmother, grew up in PEI, in Canada speaking Gaelic around the house. They'd left the Isle of Skye with many Scottish clans who came to Nova Scotia- it wasn't just the Stuarts there were the McDonalds, Buchanons, others, intermarried in the tree. When I moved across the Pond it was awfully hard to describe but it felt like I'd come home- so terribly familar. I do not much care how kooky it sounds but there are parts of England and Scotland which I even recognized from dreams I'd had as a child- it was that much of a mystical experience. It's the real reason why I stayed for 5 years- just something belonged there, that's all.
My avatar is this life and that one, and all of it the same, past and present, Burns and Wallace, Washington and Obama, Nana Stuart and me.
My avatar is this life and that one, and all of it the same, past and present, Burns and Wallace, Washington and Obama, Nana Stuart and me.