I’ve ended up with a pleasingly strange array of souvenirs from the last three years working on this book. They all bring back memories of when I got them, of course, although they’re not always great memories. There were a slew of phew-I-never-have-to-do-this-again moments along the way (see chapters 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9 and 14.) My dad has a gallery back home. Maybe someday I’ll persuade him to let me put on an exhibition of items to show my countrypeople what is being done in our name over on this side of the Atlantic.
Here are some highlights:
A paper medallion with plastic jewels on it that I was given by the Honolulu Scots. I had to wear this to be allowed to join in the Scottish dancing class.
Wee souvenir pins from the 23rd annual Gatlinburg Scottish Festival and Games.
Six Revised Pocket Editions of Scottish Dancing manuals from 1952 — actually published in Scotland, though, so we’ve only got ourselves to blame for these ones.
A tartan fan that declares, “Madhainn Mhath, ya’ll” (“good morning, y’all”) from the Memphis Scots Society.
A CD of Hawaiian hits from Don McPherson Jr, Hawaii’s Scot of the Year. Okay, that’s a good one.
The graffiti-enhanced Tilted Kilt pin-up girl calendar. That still amuses me greatly.
My Famous Kings and Queens of Scotland playing cards.
A “What Would an Angry Scotsman Do?” spinning wheel. Always useful.
And almost an entire wardrobe of terrier attire. I can now wear matching pyjamas, t-shirt and socks adorned with the wee beasties.
What am I going to do with them all, I don’t know. I’m kinda cursing myself for bringing all this junk home with me. What to do with it all now?
What Would An Angry Scotsman Do? “Use Colorful Language,” I’m told.