What the Scottish Festival Means to Me.

Ceud Mile Failte!
(a hundred thousand welcomes!)

PER-SCRIBUS-PRO-DEUS-ET-CALEDONIA

 

To-Write-For GOD and Scotland

 

 

My father Webb Clark brought me into the McPherson Scottish Festival, I believe, to introduce me to my heritage. He was ill and may have believed that it was the only way to pass on to me what he already knew. His father, my grandfather, died when my father was 14 years old. Not much time to teach a young man the way of this fathers.

 

Our culture and heritage comes to us in many forms. Grand buildings from days past as was the discussion last night or the sport of tossing the Caber, the foods that we eat, the music of Bagpipes, Highland or any other dance, to the clothes that we wear. Robert Burns, a great poet, among many others turned mere words into art.

 

I learned all of these things and more from my involvement in the Festival, but I learned something much deeper. It gave me a new in-site into who my father really was, from the stories that his friends told me after he passed away from his illness. The connection that I found for a grandfather and great grandfather that I had never meet from the stories that my family passed on to me.

 

In a way it was what it is like when you look into a painting and suddenly see what the painter sees, only it is your own reflection in a pool of life spread before you.

 

The Scottish Festival is like the preservation of beautiful old buildings only it is the preservation of a living way of life. It is not just about being Scottish it is about passing all ethnic traditions to the next generation of all races and cultures.



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