Thinking about the ancestors...

[Tartan Hiker]

Sunday night my wife and I attended Dougie MacLeans's last concert before he headed back to Scotland. Brilliant and moving as usual.

He told the story of his song "Eternally You", written after he found out that his great grandmother died a pauper in a small cottage on Mull. In the song, he says that he wishes that he could tell her that, despite the dark times and troubles that she endured, he and her other descendants had done OK.

I've been thinking a lot about that in the past two days.

Tonight listening to streaming Celtic Radio (while sewing a kilt, no less) I heard a song telling about getting on the boat to America and never seeing Scotland again, and that soon "I'll call the green hills of America my home."

My great grandfather William made just that journey with his twin brother Timothy, both just lads of 14, somewhere around the year 1880. Their family could not provide for them so they sent them off to seek their fortunes with relatives in Georgia. The fate of the twin brother is unknown; my great grandfather scratched out a living in the fields near Macon, GA, eventually moving north to coastal North Carolina where he promptly died, leaving one son, named William. That son continued farming, was mustered out for the first World War, contracted TB and ended up in a Veteran's Administration hospital for eight years. He finally kicked the infection and went back to work as a bookkeeper, dying in 1968. He had one son, named William, who served in WWII, went to college on the GI bill, became an engineer, and retired as one of the most respected coastal engineers in the world. Along the way he had one son, named William, which is yours truly. Now my son, named William, is a junior in high school and an accomplished piper, poised to embark on his own journey of discovery.

I've been thinking all evening of that boy of 14, standing on the deck of a sailing ship, perhaps holding his brother's hand as their native land faded into the distance. I've never really been able to get a firm grip on my feelings about that young man; I never really knew what I'd say to him if I had the chance, and never spent much time thinking about how frightening his journey must have been; how uncertain the future must have seemed to these two boys so far from home and family. Now I can see more clearly; see myself on the deck of that schooner, walking up to him and saying "Don't worry. Everything turns out just fine."

Thanks, Dougie.