Posted By Russ Emerson on April 6, 2004 at 3:15 pm
Continuing the Scottish theme, I have a confession to make:
I love the bagpipes.
I don’t know where or how or why it happened. It just did.
Some might accuse me of being tone-deaf, but I think the real reason is that I must have a fair amount of celtic blood in me.
When I was a student at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, our Army barracks were just across the street from the Navy barracks. On weekend mornings, one of the sailors would practice his piping on the barracks roof. He was good. Better than good – he was magnificent.
My Dad, by way of contrast, absolutely hated the pipes. He once compared pipe music to the sound that might be made by squeezing a cat under one’s arm while simultaneously biting its tail.
I’m pretty sure he never actually tried that stunt himself.
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Posted By Russ Emerson on April 6, 2004 at 2:34 pm
Today is, of course, Tartan Day — with the concomitant Gathering of the Blogs.
As noted two days ago, I am a descendant of Thomas Tupper, one of the founders of Sandwich, Mass. Since the 1600s, Tuppers have been all over North America, on both sides of the US-Canadian border. Sir Charles Tupper, the Canadian PM in 1896, was a cousin.
How distant a cousin Sir Charles might have been, I really don’t know. As recently as 1995 a comprehensive geneology of the Tupper family was published, in which all the known descendants of Thomas Tupper are listed. Next time I visit Mom I’ll have to look up the bloodlines and figure it all out. My Dad was heavily involved in the geneological society, so I figure the Emerson ties to the Tupper family aren’t too tenuous.
The family has had arms for centuries, and was granted a tartan by Queen Victoria:
As soon as Dr. Atkins’ work is complete and I settle on a size, I might just have to have a kilt made.
[Obviously, my surname isn’t Tupper. Family legend has it that several generations ago, sometime in the 1800s, a name-changing ancestor headed west and took his wife’s last name after an incident related to what might be politely described as the “disputed ownership of a horse.” I suspect that’s not quite the truth, but it makes a good story. I’ll have to look into that a bit further.]
[And yes, Ralph Waldo was apparently a relation, too. Probably a cousin or uncle of some sort.]
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