Memories

[Ian_G]

Over this weekend I have had cause to sit and think about the times during my life when I have been happy.

One of the earliest memories of feeling good, is the friday evenings of autumns during the early sixties. Mum would have the ironing board set up and be working slowly through the washing pile whilst we would be watching the White Heather Club on TV with Andy Stewart. This was probably my first occasion of seeing anyone wearing a kilt, not to mention listening to folk music and watching dancing.

In the mid seventies I became really interested in folk music and attended clubs about 4 nights a week. Then later I became involved with dancing in a big way, and now the Kilt.

Funny how those early impressions affect you during life.

Ian

[vmac3205]

We have video of the SC Dancing at the White Heather Club. It is brilliant. It should be used a sa training video for any demo team.

[Tartan Tess]

I grew up in Californa in the 60's. We lived a few blocks from Knott's Berry Farm and my Mom, Aunt and myself would walk down every week-end to the "covered wagon show" a free, outdoor amphitheater around a huge bonfire where the "Sons of the pioneers" would sing and play cowboy songs. Once in awhile someone new like Johnny Cash would show up.
It certainly molded my character!

[BoldHighlander]

As a wee lad during the 60's, my most pleasant memories are those spent on my maternal grandfather's farm, rather that be fishing, sneaking up on deer, learning to shoot a rifle, helping tend his beef cattle, riding horses (& getting bucked off of them), or looking for animal sign ...& my grandfather taking me to see herds of elk (& smaller ones of deer), chase coyotes & bobcats, or go on the weekends into town to the livestock auction followed by a visit to Roy's Chuckwagon all-you-can-eat buffet

Nobody famous came to visit, though I got to meet a number of aging pioneers, who as children had come to the area in covered wagons etc, some telling stories of winters huddled in cabins while cougars prowled on the roof at night (trying to stay warm I imagine)! My grandfather would spend evenings telling me stories about his growing up in the Ozarks of Missouri, and of kinfolk who always had to keep one eye open for the law.

This was my little piece of heaven as a child .... more so in my teens when my relationship with my father soured, then it became my refuge. I miss my grandfather.