It was thirty-four years since I had last been to Scotland with my only son, my first-born. At that time, we saw the Buchanan Castle – only in the distance across Loch Lomond. But, this time my grandson, Shaun was with us and we truly wanted to see Buchanan Castle up close and personal. In a strange way, I was trying to connect the generations of us living with those in the past.
At age twenty-six, it was high time I made some decisions. Could I interview and land an interesting job that had growth potential? Or should I figure out a way to support myself and go back to college? Did I even know what degree I wanted? Maybe something in law or journalism?
Packing for a flight to Philadelphia to visit family and celebrate my granddaughter’s birthday, I ran across a small bag of Buffalo/Indian head nickels in the dresser. Buffalo Nickels have always had a special place in my heart. They brings back fond memories of the 1950s. I recall sorting through the coins collected with my brother when I had the privilege to join him on his paper route. Continue reading “Buffalo Nickels & Memories of Yesteryear”
So, how can forgetting ever be wonderful? It is a matter of being selective. I forget things, like what I’m looking for when I cross the threshold of a room. I have to think twice and hope a delayed reaction will turn on the light bulb of remembrance. My mother used to say, “Tie a string around your finger so you won’t forget next time!” It always seemed like a dumb idea to me. When Mom was out of sorts, her Scottish brogue would kick in, saying: “Wean, ye would forget yer head if it wisnae attached on!” Continue reading “I Forget! It’s Wonderful Sometimes!”
It was “bloody two o’clock in the morning!” when Mom’s shouting alerted me from my reverie. I was dancing the night away with Fred Astaire in our overgrown closet of a living room in the old duplex on Franklin Street – at least I was in my mind. My imagination carried me away as I watched the great dance star on the old black and white movie on TV.
There are a line of employees waiting to get into my Wilmington, DE publishing office with the latest problems, questions, or suggestions just before Christmas. Jeff, a recent hire fresh out of Temple University is bursting with something to say. “Hold that thought” I say, as I pick up the phone ringing by my desk.
It is the Director of KinderCare on the phone – “You have to do something, Margaret! Your son is telling all the children that Santa Claus is a fake! He is claiming there is a different Santa at the Mall from the one on Main Street.” Continue reading “Wrecking Havoc With The Magic of Christmas”
My Scottish parents taught us to lift our glasses as grace was recited at any important family gathering. Be it a holiday or a family gathering, everyone joined together at the supper table ready to eat. The Scottish prayer was recited by my Dad in a manner that was more of a toast than a standard blessing on a meal. He commanded everyone’s attention, waited for silence, then raised his glass and reverently spoke in his thick Glaswegian brogue:
“Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we hae meat and we can eat,
And sae the Lord be thanket.”
Growing up in Pennsylvania, we recited this Scottish grace year after year, chiming in as we learned the words. It was my understanding that the Continue reading “A Scottish Festive Holiday Grace”