Hunting Stewart Kilt in Reproduction Colours from D.C. Dalgliesh

[DyerStraits]

Gezz, Kyle! Pick a difficult topic, why don't you, man!
:-)

My primary claim to Highland lineage is through my farher's mother (Shaw).

My father's paternal line (Colbert [we pronounce the "t"]--we are not French and the French name is derrived from the Scottish one, not vice-versa) is earliest found in Galloway and the name is derrived from the name "Cuthbert." The name is also found in Ireland and England, it should be noted, but the earliest instances, even spelled the way that we spell it, are certainly found in Modern Scotland (it was the Kingdom of Northumbria then). There was no "Scot" land at the time but many peoples.

As you know I wear the Robertson Hunting tartan mainly. My maternal grandmother was a Robertson. I love the sett. It's gorgeous.

If I were to go back I'd maybe just the Shaw tartan and be done with it. I bought it during a time that I was researching my maternal geneology and was going through some deep, personal growth and the women in my life were strong anchors for me. The women in our family are all tough, independent, fiercely loyal, hearty women with whom one does not meddle unless at one's peril. They are have the blood of the Gael, the Cherokee, and the Normans coursing through their veins.

I was caught up in the romanticism of this then-unexplored lineage. Now that the emotion has calmed, I certainly don't have buyers' remourse, as it were, but feom time-to-time I do think about 'switching.' I am a bit cinflicted here but I think, in the end, I'm probably seriously over-thinking and should be grateful to be able to afford any kilt(s) at all.

I have a nice Holyrood that I've not worn since my Robertson arrived last year...

Do what thou wilt, friend of mine. You'll get no judgement from me.

(Apologies for the length, but it seemed necessary to help, my friend.)

Cuthbert was the middle name of William Faulkner (or Falkner, as it was originally spelled), Nobel Laureate and literary eldest son of Joyce, whose grave I will one day visit and sprinkle with top shelf Bourbon, and whose works I will lovingly revisit in my retirement years (you need that kind of free time to do it right). Looking for a really good summer novel? Try "Light In August" or "As I Lay Dying".

My patrilineal great-great grandmother was either Shawnee or Choctaw. My great-grandmother once spoke of her ritualistic noise-making and chanting at the approach of thunderstorms and how she would burn sage while praying as if it were incense. My Aunt Sarah was undoubtedly her clone--high cheekbones, silky hair, Asian eyelids and dark, piercing eyes, and unmistakably (and, for a predominantly African-American family, oddly) Native American speech inflection. She was an absolute Mama Bear--big, strong, resourceful, smart, fearless, generous and nuturing, with a lightening bolt sense of humor. Oh, and could she put away some beer. I was always too afraid to show her how much I loved and admired her because she also basically scared the crap out of me (this may at least partially explain the origins of ancestor worship). So, yeah, the Celtic-Native American intersection (as fellow X Marker Hawk and I have discussed) is unique and special, but ultimately, of course, aren't they all--especially with the mothers/wives/sisters/daughters/etc.?

"They don't make women like that anymore?" Or DO They?