Thanks for the ping!! It was beautiful to read, except far too short. I was so engrossed in every detail, I would have read several more pp.
I lived in the Boston area upwards of 20 yrs, and never heard of the Kirkin’ of the Tartan. I had to move to a southeastern town to not only learn about it, but to experience it firsthand. Had I known about your procession, I’d have taken the T at Oak Grove, ridden down to North Station, and watched the grand finale.
My wife is gathering and scanning photos -- and, I'm writing up anecdotes like the foregoing one... in preparation for the celebration of my "completion of my 80th orbit around our local star" next month. I'll see if there are more "Scottish life" tales fit for posting here...
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I wish you had known about our "Kirkin' Day" too. We would have welcomed you to don your kilt and join us -- in mid-procession! Or, even without Scottish attire, we would have welcomed you equally warmly...
We always had "lone Clansmen" and welcomed them -- and the additional color of their Tartan -- into our joyous fellowship. (Perhaps you've noticed: U.S. Scots are some of the most congenial and hospitable folk you'll find anywhere!)
Perhaps you've also noticed: No one frowns at a man in a kilt! '-)
When I'm out and about in full regalia, (including my "Seven yards o' Red Macpherson wrapped aboot ma fanny", plus my Cromach, Sgian dubh, and Sporran [with my L.W. Seecamp tucked awa' inside]) my wife of 56 years is "oft bemused" at the number of times lovely young lassies stop us and ask to have their photo taken with me... '-) I tell her, "It must be the white hair and goatee; it's surely not the knees..." '-)
