As I stated in my previous blog, the elections in Scotland got my mind in a tizzy. There is so much emotion going inside, I am amazed. Who knew that my tree was so deeply rooted? My thoughts are everywhere, like I mentioned they are way back in the 1300's and 1400's, however, they are also flitting about in recent history as well.
Now, I have only been to Scotland twice, once when I was 2..just don't remember a thing from that trip,lol, and once when I was 17. I have an amazing Auntie who has lived in Canada since I was a child, and cousins who made their way over here when they were young adults. The remaining family, well, some have visited here, and others I met only the once, but they have left their marks on my heart..they are FAMILY.
The family that did come most to visit, was, in fact, my Granny and Granda. My Granda was always the tallest man I knew, and one who smiled all the time, and was, oh so very quiet. One could not help but feel close to him, because he was just so nice. My Uncle Hughie was a tad more outgoing (well maybe more than a tad) but, definitely a chip off my Granda. Perhaps I was not as lucky as those in the "old country" who were able to visit our grandparents often, but, they made their mark with me, and I remember them fondly.
My Granny Margaret, well, she was a true lady. I got to thinking, Granny really was the only true lady I have met. I understand she lived a full life long before I met her. I understand she did not raise her children in a fine home, with money, and maids. I have searched through some roots, and know that my Granny was a serving girl before herself and Granda started their lives together, and he worked in service for a farm owner, so, it is clear they did not have the finest.
However, when she was in the room, suddenly one felt that they must search within, and find their manners, not because she demanded it, but, somehow, one knew she deserved it. She, too, was quiet, and smiled often. She was always Granny, always had white hair, and always neat as a pin. Every Christmas my brother and I would get our packages from her, loved those packages, they would be tied with string, and inside, along with the crisp white hankies with thistles embroidered on them, and perhaps my initials, would be exotic candy. Castle rock, that would last me until the following Christmas, some chalk like candy that came in various colours, that I would not share with any friends, because I was special, and got candy from another country....I can now imagine Granda out shopping for Heckie's kids, I imagine my Scottish cousins got much the same, but, hey...they could simply go to the shops and pick out their own, so perhaps they did not feel quite as special?
I never once heard my Gran raise her voice, she was always the picture of calm, peace, and happiness. I know alot of that must have been the result of finding her true love, because they were the perfect couple. Perhaps it was the age they grew up, and old in? They were gentle people, who had made their lives, raised their family, and gone through as much,if not more than folks do today, and yet, they were content. I wish I had received a little more of their peace, but, I guess I have an added mixture that does not allow me to be quite as ladylike. Truth be told, I was as close to a lady, only in my Granny's presence, and that happened far too seldom.
I thought of Granny when I saw what happened last night. I know she would not have blinked an eye. I will never know how she would have felt, she was a monarchist. I believe her generation was such, because they had survived the wars, and the Queen's Mom made such an impact on all of Great Britain. I wonder, if indeed, Granny would have felt her heart beat a little faster, to know that the whole past history was on the verge of change? Funny how, something that I truly believe my Granny would have quietly accepted one way or the other, because she was a lady, and did not even wiggle the boat, has brought her close to mind. Roots are strange things, they twist and turn, and go deeper than one imagines. Memories of a true lady, Granny Ross!
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