Jilara (jilara) wrote,
Jilara
jilara

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Catch-up post for New Year's...

Well, I spent Hogmany with Eoin MacKenzie and the last of Clan Colin. I was surprised how many of us came out of the woodwork, often from some distance, but this was also a slightly late 80th birthday. Eoin is always fascinating, even if I do think he sometimes embroiders his stories a bit---just like my father, come to think of it. In fact, I always claimed that if my father and Eoin ever met, they were so much alike that they would either become thick as thieves or immediately repel like matched magnets. I was struck even more this time, as he told tales of some of the old cars he'd owned in the late '40's/'50's, and some sounded suspiciously like the (very unusual) cars my father had owned, but sold off around that time...

We reminisced about old times, and I was once again struck by how totally, utterly, INSANE we must have all been. And no one ended up dead or in jail, even more miraculously. And I was just as bad as anyone else, participating in half-serious duels, marching on McDonald's on a "raid" to free one of our members from the slavery of her job, on New Year's Eve. (We're now wondering if she was told never to come back to that job, since we physically kidnapped her at sword-and-pike point, with one of the guys hoisting her over the counter and onto his shoulder...) Damn it was fun! Damn it was crazy! And one of our guys, who has to be in his '70's, is still competitively fencing. It's good to know. We talked about when Aaron, now Shaw, of Wicked Tinkers fame, used to play rock-and-roll bagpipes on the front lawn, and provided the piper for the escort of burly men in kilts who took the 3-year-old son of one of our members trick-or-treating around Petaluma. Ah, those were the days, and it's good to know so many of our folks are still doing what they do best. (I guess, with my cannon and reenactments, I'm one of those, too.)

Eoin looked better than I'd seen him in some years, and said it was because he'd gotten fed up with babying himself, and being a sick old man. He decided he was getting out of his wheelchair and getting out and about, and that was it. This year, he took the train back to Washington DC to the opening of the new Native wing of the Smithsonian, and incidentally to research a little about some obscure tribe he's now found in his primarily Scots-Canadian background. Having known him as the embodiment of All Things Scottish for so long, I'm rather amused to see him now add accessories like tribal headbands and long white braids. I hope to be around, seeing him celebrate his 90th, in another ten years. And knowing how stubborn Eoin can be, I bet he'll be here.
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