I took my children to the Milwaukee Highland Games/Scottish Festival for the first time over Labor Day weekend. I told them we were essentially Scottish royalty, hailing from not only the clan Donald, but the Lord of the Clans, Macdonald. They ate fish and chips, they watched the burly men in kilts competing in the hammer and caber competitions and they indulged me as I cried when the entire delegation of drummers and pipers walked onto the field to dedicate Amazing Grace to the policemen, firemen and American soldiers who have served or continue to serve, as well as those that have given their lives in the line of duty. I cried behind my sunglasses. They clapped and hooped and hollered. That was my signal that even though they didn't cry, they got it.
I delighted in watching my 12 year old son, who is the only one of my children to receive the traditional pale skin and freckles of my clan. Just as I can walk around a Scottish festival and be recognized by my naturally curly, red hair and fair skin, my son is instantly accepted, wearing camouflage shorts or a kilt, though it may take him a few years to get comfortable with the idea of a skirt and knee socks.
While we were eating lunch at an outdoor picnic table, I watched as an extremely large version of a Scottish piper made his way past us. Keep in mind, one of my most basic tenants is my sincerest desire to not make fun of, nor harass, nor belittle any of my fellow travelers in this live; however, I found myself looking up to quickly assess the inevitable. The very same principles of physics hold true to a middle aged man who wears his jeans below his belly as do they do a man in a kilt. When you tuck a kilt below a large protruding object, the back of said kilt will hike up in a manner that would greatly agitate even the most innocent of spectators. In other words, his ass was showing.
And to further exasperate the experience, as is often the case with me, I said, "Look kids, the moon is shining over Scotland." Now before you get all outraged with me, you have to know, I did have enough reason to point it out when said butt cheeks were well out of the visual purview of my kids. However, when they saw him from a distance, with his calves as big as my waste, they were duly impressed. For them, a big piper was a BIG piper, nay - a monumental piper.
Thus, I suppose the old adage once again proves true. The bigger the better.
Footnote to this post,which has nothing whatsoever to do with this post,thus making it not so much a footnote as just a lame attempt at tacking on something that is worth mentioning but not entirely enough to dedicate a singular post:
Kids got upset with me for deleting their online internet accounts. I gave them a warning, if you go in there and trash my office again, you will all be deleted. Eventually, I restored their restricted access. Middle child said to me, "What were you thinking mom, how could you do that? I don't have the picture of the black and white dog anymore and you took away everything I need, I mean I don't even have Mozzarella Firefox anymore."
Nice sporrans...
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