What is the stuff of memories? What is it that fashions the images of time in our brains? Is it the wonderful experiences or is it the painful test of endurance? Perhaps it is a little of both and that is exactly what I was in store for as I headed to the airport that Friday morning. It was time, the anticipated day had arrived and everyone was in high spirits. We were actually going to Scotland to compete in the World's Piping Championships. For me, this was the culmination of years of anticipation and work, not to mention a real sacrifice.
There I sat in the airport anxious to be on my way when over the loudspeaker we heard: "For all those boarding the United Airlines flight to Denver, there has been a delay of two hours due to adverse fog conditions. Your flight will depart at 12:15" A low buzz began around me, people trying to ascertain the impact of the message we had just heard. Then, like a room closing in around us, we suddenly began to comprehend. We would miss every connecting flight we had in our trip across the pond. To make an unbearable story short and palatable, I will simply say that 48 hours and two uncomfortable nights in cold airports later we arrived in the land of Scotia.
What a thrill it was; the sights, the sounds, the new experiences. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined such a great adventure. I had some life changing events occur while there.
I was able to play a Piobairaechd on the battlefield of Culloden as the sun was setting. It was a surreal experience. I could feel the departed Scottish warriors gathering around me. I could see the terror stricken faces of the English souls as they fled from the condemning tones of the great pipes.
I was able to play the sultry tones of "Loch Lomond" as I stood on the pier of the small town of Luss, located on the banks of Loch Lomond. I saw the wonder in the eyes of the tourists as they gathered around me. A beautiful Indian girl, about three years old, stood before me with eyes as big as saucers. She wanted to take a picture as she held out the camera. She was adorable. Her mother helped her snap the photo, but at the last moment, the little girl jerked and the camera went to the side. I am not sure what she got a picture of, but it wasn't me.
I was able to visit every town my Great Grandfather lived in. I played in a pipe competition in the town of Yoker. I later found out the competition was held in the Elementary school, the very same one my Great Grandfather would have attended so many years ago. There was a 97 year old woman there who I spoke with. She claimed to remember my great grandfather (I remain a wee bit skeptical about that). Regardless, I couldn't help but feel grandfather's presence as I played my pipes.
I was able to make new and amazing friendships that I will treasure for the rest of my life. The Meiklejohn's of Bishopton. The greatest family I have ever met. They took me in and let me stay with them for the entire week. They fed me and treated me as family, which we are. They were awesome, pure deed brilliant. Trish, Vhari, and Heather were the sweetest girls I have ever seen. I will miss Heather's quick wit and Vhari's gentle smile and her tender caring attitude. Trish and David are wonderful parents and set a great example for me.
I was able to tour the old Lamont Clan Manse where Mary Lamb and her husband Jim are caretakers. They were so sweet. We had a wonderful visit and they invited me to be the Clan Piper for the following year's Lamont Gathering. I am saving my pennies to try and make that happen. It would be such an honor.
All too soon, the time came for me to depart. It was with a heavy heart that I proceeded to the Glasgow airport and home. With me came a treasure trove of memories that were born of both the best and the worst of my sojourn abroad. Thankfully, the best overshadow the worst and leave me with fond, heart warming memories. May the road rise up to meet ye, and may the wind be always at yer back. Slainte.
