Braveheart is Alive and Well

William Wallace and his brave heart live on!

We spotted him just outside the castle walls.  He reappears every few centuries or so, and just can't seem to "let it go" as easily as Queen Elsa of Frozen fame.  Guess it's in his martyred blood to declare freedom from every hilltop and castle wall, and in front of every tourist trap.

William Wallace woos the Lasses

In the video below, he espouses politics at play to people on the streets regarding Scotland's recent Referendum: the vote for independence from England.  This is a fight as old as shetland sheep, a fight that William Wallace spearheaded, literally.

When the Scottish National Party regained power recently, they fulfilled their campaign promise to allow the people of Scotland to vote on their own independence.  As he explains, the vote didn't go as expected.  Battle lines were drawn between the Highlanders & Lowlanders, between Glasgow & Edinburgh.

Every native with whom we've discussed this matter has political passion around the topic, explaining that everyone came out of the tavern woodwork to vote that day.  Those who voted "Yes" claim they voted with their heart, those who voted "No" voted with their head.

Glasgow gave an overwhelming nod for independence, while Edinburgh remained loyal to the crown.  Although the vote for independence failed to free the Scots from the tentacles of Great Britain, there is some good news.  Great Britain can remain great because they have the Great Scots.  Therefore, they should be most grateful they are spared from becoming average.  But no bias here.

Though it's been weeks since the vote, Scottish blue and white flags bearing Yes signs still fly high throughout the land, and in surprising places and parts, even tattooed body parts, declaring the Scots shall rise again! The same freedom fight of days past led by the man with the blue and white face tattoo continues today, with no next vote in sight.

Until the next vote day, may William Wallace roam every tourist trap unharmed.


 

Family Gems: Finding Elizabeth, Alexander and a Shoe Fetish

Well that explains everything.  Now I know why I inherited such a shoe fetish.  Come to find out, there are two shoemakers in our family line, both named Alexander Buchanan.  I like to think of them as the entrepreneurial precursors to Jimmy Choo.  I can only imagine the closet full of tartan stilettos Elizabeth Buchanan had back in her day.  Afterall, it was her own father and father-in-law who were the shoemakers and the Alexanders.  Apparently, since she didn't have enough of those in her life (referring to the Alexanders not the shoes), she married an Alexander Buchanan.  And, to make things fashionably simple, her maiden name was Buchanan to boot.

If you think about it too long, it becomes impossible for you to heed the Scottish caution to "mind your head."

This is just one of the family gems discovered by the passionate volunteers at the Scottish Genealogical Society Family History Center in Edinburgh.  Dressed in their uniform cashmere sweaters, four of these white-haired wonders descended upon us as we entered their doors, providing service with a twinkle and a smile.  Though they each volunteer one day a week, their savvy search skills have been put to use for decades, decoding naming conventions and registrar interpretations. Together, they were a walking wealth of Scottish knowledge.

They were quite intrigued with Mom's given name, wondering everything about it's origins, which one would expect from name experts such as these.  They kept repeating "Momi" over and over, trying to get the vowel sound right, like a cacophonous herd of birds.  I suddenly found myself in the middle of a Monty Python skit.  Mid deep discussions, invariably one would turn to her and ask, "Moomi, is it?  Did I say it right?" 

There has been a surprisingly common response by any whom we've informed we are in Scotland for family history purposes, be it fellow traveler, taxi driver or waiter.  That response is, "The Mormons have done more than anyone to further family research, you should check with them."  Even these volunteers agree.  The indexing that's been performed by the youth and others of the church has been huge for these addicts of ancestry.  We confessed that we are the Mormons, and yet here we are seeking their help.  We can take no royal credit for all the legwork performed by our Christian Clan, thus our trip to them as our penance.

We spent enlightened hours with them, during which they constantly reminded us to solve one problem before smattering more.  With each problem/person we entrusted to them, they became enthralled with finding the answer, and even more enthralled at the thrill of debating with one another why the right answer had to be this over that.  As we had been forewarned, the Scots love a good debate.  It was like getting dinner and a show, the entertainment was so delicious.

From their debates we learned the following contextual clues:

• The Scottish naming convention:  The 1st son is named after the father's father, the 2nd son after the mother's father.  The 1st daughter is named after the mother's mother and 2nd daughter after the father's mother while the rest of the children are named after aunts, uncles, and other relatives.
• If a child dies, a subsequent child is given the exact same name as the deceased child. 
• Births and baptisms occurred only a few days apart due to infant mortality
• Alexander was a very popular name during the time it appears in our family history
• The names Daniel & Donald are interchangeable, as are Peter and Patrick.  This was due to the Reformation, when people who had departed from Catholicism had to use a Catholic name to hide this fact.  Though they believed as a Protestant, they couldn't reflect it in any way outwardly, including in their name.
• Indians transcribed most of the records while India was under British rule.
• Old Parish Records are considered official documentation.  Everything found in the OPR means they were of the Church of Scotland (Protestant/Presbytarian).  The Catholics didn't keep as good of records so their research is near impossible.
• If the same names show up on different OPRs with the same bann or marriage dates, the assumption is it's the same people because the bride and groom may be from different parishes/counties, in which case they register banns in both churches.

Thus, we see why tracking and finding the truth as it relates to a family member or family event becomes confused and complex.  Many family members have the same name, carry the name of the deceased or go by a disguised name, which may or may not be transcribed correctly.  Doing this work definitely makes it hard to mind one's head.

But nothing a brilliant brie fondue wouldn't easily solve. 

After wearing out our valiant volunteers, they closed up shop, graciously handing us documents worth their weight in gold.  Gratefully, the answers and documentation to our original query had been found.  They had verified Elizabeth's full name and marriage date to Alexander.

Although they handed us this and other pieces of family treasures, we were leaving with more questions than with which we arrived.  Now, the pandora's box was open wide.  Archibald McMurrin Buchanan (my great grandfather, Alexander & Elizabeth's grandson), had been weighing on my mind.  When did his family move from Doune to Glasgow?  What did he experience with that change during those days?  What was his profession?  With whom did he migrate to America?  What drove him to make the ultimate decision to leave security, family and country behind to immigrate to America?

As I spouted off the unanswered questions that came to mind while parting ways with our ancestry angels, Mr. Napier's response was no answer at all.  It was a question to keep me questioning, "Well, why do you think people immigrate?  It's not for the weather now, is it dear?"

Stay tuned as we take next steps to uncover treasures of truth, tartans...and fashionable family fetishes.

Genealogist Napier discovering a piece of the puzzle.  He reads from a printed copy of a microfiche pictured below.  This OPR officially documents the marriage of Alexander & Elizabeth Buchanan on December 16, 1823 in Kilmadock, Scotland.

The Queen arrives at Her Castle

We caught our first glimpse of the Fatherland at sunrise. The pink sun spread its brilliant rays across the lush land of colorful countryside, cottages, and castles. We flew afar with a slew of DARs - Daughters of the American Revolution - whose journey's purpose was the same as ours. We all awed at the view as we soared across the shimmering Firth of Forth seas that envelope Scotland's cultural epicenter, Edinburgh (properly pronounced Edinburra).

This is where our genealogical journey begins.

After deplaning from our short six hour 'hop across the pond', as the locals say, we hopped into our colorful carriage. The smiley chauffer sauntered down single lane roads lined with tall trees and centuries old stone walls snuggled in ivy.

Momi couldn't seem to get over how much the scenery of greenery reminded her of her Hawaiian homeland, until I reminded her that this is a subtly different type of island where the menehune wear kilted lava-lavas that cover more territory.

We soon turned at an opening where a long driveway unfolded before us and wound our way to our new native home. The Dalmahoy Hotel stood royally before us, an estate manor armored in stone and topped with turrets. We were greeted with Ceud Mile Failte (A Hundred Thousand Welcomes) by Jack & Jonathan, our castle cabana boys who ensured our every courtesy was provided. As our room was readied, one of those courtesies included a tall steeping cylinder of steamy, creamy hot cocoa that we sipped in the drawing room overlooking the vast hills and fairways.
 

Momi's Manor at Dalmahoy

 Jack was from Spain and spoke with a Barcelona brogue sauteed in Scottish. Whenever he said something, we both leaned in with our one good ear between us, and learned to just nod and say yes. This seemed to fare us well, as he provided us a room with a magnificent view. We had to maze through the manor to get there, but it was well worth the price of admission. From our window, we watch smoke rise from the chimney of the one thatched cottage in sight. We lazily gaze at hillaciousness as far as the eye can see, dotted with white and woolly, fat and furry sheep. I suppose there must be many more sheep than there are sheepboys around these parts, or cowboys for that matter, because my cowboy boots I traveled in on have received many jolly jeers. And they aren't even my bedazzled ones.

Sunset descending on Dalmahoy

 As we settled in, we strategized our priorities & plan of ancestry attack, which quickly taxed us. So we quickly resorted to dining at the Leisure Club on site, where we learned there's lots to love about the Scots idea of leisure. Truly, the queen has arrived at her castle and it remains to be seen whether she will ever be removed from it.

We concluded our first night in our royal chambers with the perfectly proper perk, as a manor or speaking: Downton Abbey. We watched on our telly the latest episode of the current season, not yet airing in the US. For those of you clamoring for sordid details, it would be beneath the dignity of this house to provide such. You shant begrudge me if I am not forthcoming with this stylish piece of information. But to quote the Dowager from tonight's episode, "it entails things most shocking to those in 1924." So until it properly airs there, follow Mrs. Hughes' advise and "go as far in life as God and luck allow." That is afterall our Scotland strategy.

The Queen Mother greeting her royal peeps

Stay tuned for our continued tale of two lasses as we sip & sup on the Queen's yacht, venture the regalities of the royal mile, scale castle walls, wander the land of William Wallace, and see a man about a Buchanan.

Dreams of My Mother

This is a tale of two lasses of the Buchanan Clan. Lasses linked by blood as Mother and Daughter.

The mother is formally known as Marie Momi Clissold Buchanan (aka Momi, GrandMomi, Great GrandMomi, Hula Girl). The daughter is simply known as Lisa Buchanan (aka Lassie Lilly, Buchanan Blogger). That would be me. Out of her 5 daughters, I am the youngest of them all, but don't dare claim to be the fairest of them all because her other daughters may actually read this. Nor dare I claim to be favorite of them all because after the travails of traveling with me throughout our two lass tale, that status is sure to be downgraded daily. Did I mention there is one yet younger and fairer and more favored than us all? Surely, our brother deserves an honorable mention. But, I digress...

We carry the name Buchanan because we are related through blood or marriage to our beloved clansman and fearless Clan Leader, George Paul Buchanan (aka Pilot Paul). He is my father, who recently took his final flight high into the heavens, leaving us a loving legacy of faith, family and freedom. Traits portrayed by other famous Scots, even men with brave hearts, so the story goes.

Our story begins with Mom's dream to visit Dad's fatherland with him to dig up his family roots. Although his days of disease and disability detoured that dream, the dream is still alive. Mom's years of grit and grace as his devoted caretaker makes her most deserving of a dreamy dalliance. The story cannot end where the dream began, so off to the Fatherland we fancy! Though our Pilot Paul won't be with us in body, he will surely soar with us in spirit throughout Scotland the Brave.

Over castles, cliffs and highlands we'll go,

Seeking lost clansmen, of whom little we know.

Though they may be lost from pages of family history,

They shall never be forgotten by you, nor by me.

We shall look up the kilts of our countrymen,

To check every hidden crack 'til alas we find them!

Because this is a family affair, we invite you to join the journey while we blog as we go. Here you will find posts about our family history findings, flavored with a little clan culture, highland history, food fetishes and kilt couture.

We hope in response you will post your curiosities about anything Scottish for us to research, afterall it is your own heritage o' hearty highlanders. There's lots to learn and admire about the Great Scots - who's not a huge fan of their adhesive tape?

As we wander the paths of our people, we hope it will inspire you to wonder more about who you are.

Who do you think you are?