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A Scottish author, David Ross, had walked from Robroyston, Scotland to London in August 2005, to commemorate the capture of William Wallace and his forced march in 1305. On 23 August, a couple thousand Scots walked the alleged route Wallace was drug through the streets of London, from Westminster to Smithfield, where he was ultimately murdered. A memorial service was held at St. Bartholomew the Great, which was likely within Wallace's sight as he died. A coffin was in the sanctuary and everyone was allowed to place mementos in the coffin, which was returned to Stirling, Scotland. The coffin laid in situ at the Smith Art Gallery and Museum for a couple of weeks, when it was taken to Lanark, where Wallace and Marion Braidfute were married.
This tribal pipe and drum band is based out of Scotland and they took part throughout the Walk for Wallace ceremonies. Here they are at the Smith, the day the Spirit of Wallace coffin was returned to Scotland. The band was then known as Clann an Drumma (Children of the Drum). The fellow with the snare drum in the middle has since passed and the others have carried on as Albannach (Scotsman).
Pictures of this fine, young Scot can make me a bit maudlin. Had things gone as originally intended, this wee man would have been my stepson. The band had broken for an breather and we conned Jacquie into letting Aedan have a go at her drum. The little guy is destined to be a leader when he comes of age. I'll no reveal his surname, but his given names are Aedan Wallace Bruce.
A picture of his mum (she's on the right) at Smithfield, on 23 August, which is also our birthday. She was wearing an arisaidh in my family's tartan on the day.
When we returned the Spirit of Wallace coffin back to Lanark, we had a tent set up on what is now believed to be the site of the marital home of Wallace and Braidfute.
This plaque was dedicated on the day.
I was fortunate to have been selected to stand as part of the honor guard on the day. Yes, I was wearing a dirk and as the day wore on, it turned out to be a good thing I was. The day got a bit crazy before it was over.
Carol and I were preparing a banner for the march to St. Kentigern's Kirk. The short, bearded fellow you can barely make out between Carol and the battle flag is from a wee village in Perthshire and is one of the best friends I have ever known. The fellow behind Carol, in the black and gray fleece, is a pal of mine from Belgium who had flown across for this event.
This was taken on 29 December 2005, the same day as the image in my profile. I belong to a Scottish Jacobite organization, Na Fir Dileas (The Loyal Men), and we were conducting a commemoration at the grave of Robert 'Rob Roy' MacGregor, to commemorate his death. Since I was back across at the time, I read a bit of Scripture and led prayers at the graveside.
I had flown into Glasgow, just that morning. My buddy Maitland picked me up at the airport and took me to Carol's digs, in the village of Sauchie, about 8 miles east of Stirling. I ran in the door and up the stairs, where I dove into a hot shower. I kilted up, grabbed my Bible and the small bouquet you see at the grave and we jogged to Sauchie Hall, where we jumped on a hired bus. We drove up into the Highlands, to a tiny spot known as Kingshouse. We assembled in front of the Kingshouse Inn and marched 2 miles to Balquhidder, where we performed the service. We then marched back to the Kingshouse Inn, which fortunately also houses the Rob Roy Pub. After a few pints we adjourned to the dining area for dinner and entertainment. And a few more pints.
I knew nearly everyone there and it seemed they all wanted to buy me a pint to welcome me back home.
We may have gotten a bit carried away at some point in the evening. My memory of the night is a bit blurred. I think some of my pals were coming to ensure I was properly kilted as a 'true' Scot. It somehow never fails. Get a few of us together in one room, add several pints and a few bottles of whisky and before you know it, the sharp, pointy things are being brandished about. I don't know what it's all about.
This one was taken as I impatiently waited for Albannach to take the stage at the Glasgow Highland Games. Only this was Glasgow, KY.
Myself and Joe Kilna McKenzie of Clann an Drumma, at Ft. Wayne, IN. RIP, my friend.
My son, Billy, myself and a dear friend from NC, trying to cool off after a particularly intense session of tribal dancing to Albannach's set.
Jamesie Johnston of Glasgow (l) and Aya Thorn of Pitlochry ® have Billy at the point of a dirk.
As for my family, all I can say is I am an exile. Here is what it left of my ancestral home, Toward Castle, located near Toward Point, Argyll on the Cowal peninsula.
The Lamonts were Royalists and had fought with Montrose against Argyll, who supported the Covenanters. The Campbells lay siege to both Ascog and Toward, forcing a surrender.
On 3 June 1646, Sir James Lamont signed terms of capitulation with the crook-mouth Campbells, to surrender Toward Castle to them, if his family would be allowed to gather their possessions and travel safely from the area. Fortunately, Sir James was able to convey a copy of the terms to his sister, as the next day, both Ascog and Toward were razed. Sir James and his brothers were taken to the Marquess of Argyll's family seat at Inverary. The remaining defenders of Ascog and Toward were taken by boat to Dunoon and massacred. Many were buried alive.
15 years later, Sir James successfully brought charges against Argyll, who was subsequently beheaded.
Both James Graham, the Marquess of Montrose, and Archibald Campbell, the Marquess of Argyll, are memorialized within St. Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh. On a visit to the Cathedral, I managed to lay a white rose at the effigy of Montrose, and then walked to the St. Eloi's Aisle and spat upon the effigy of Argyll.
The Campbells successfully proscribed the Lamonts, after which many family members fled Cowal and took up residence in other areas with assumed names. The few that were brave enough to remain in the area were eventually driven off their lands as the lairds began moving sheep into the area. My forebears, who had come to Cowal from Islay even before Lauman arrived from Ireland in the early 13th Century, were forced onto floating coffins and sent away to the New World. They arrived in Nova Scotia in the early 19th Century and made their way west to Detroit and then south to the Cherokee, Peoria, Potawatomi and Wyandot Native American Reservations of Oklahoma. My great-grandfather moved to this area of Indiana in the latter part of the 19th Century, because of some of the Native American ties to this area. I have a distant cousin that keeps urging me to come to Oklahoma, so he can take me out onto the res to meet other branches of my family. What is interesting is my family had ties to the MacDonalds of Islay before moving to Cowal. And then, my family ended with ties to Chief John Ross of the Cherokee Nation, whose mother was of MacDonald/Cherokee descent. And it was a contingent of Campbells who were sent by William of Orange and Dalrymple to wipe out the House of Donald at Glencoe.
And earlier today, I reminded my 2 year-old granddaughter what my grandmother always taught me. As long as trees are in the wood, there will be treachery in the Campbells. If it sounds like a grudge, it is. But it is part of what my family brought from our ancestral home and it remains a part of who we are. Just as we never allow Stinkin' Billy in a flower garden, drink toasts made over bowls of water and open our doors at the bells on Hogmanay.
Here's tae th' King sir, ye'll ken wha I mean sir. An' e'ery honest man that'll dae 't agin.
Thanks, Mr. Mike!!! 
is better then being on topic. I have to go find my DVD of Braveheart now, one of my favorites.
