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The
Kilt
The
beam of bright light, created by the sun reflecting through
the glass of the window, seems to highlight the colours of the
material Maureen is manoeuvring in her hands on the sewing
machine. Her mind
keeps telling her that the red, black and white tartan pattern
looks familiar, and she starts to rack her brains to recall
the memories that seem to want to rush back to the past.
Childhood memories ... the attic … a trunk …
something inside … same material … what was it ... a
garment … wrapped up carefully.
Oh yes, she remembers now!
…
The year when she turned ten, and visited her maternal
grandmother’s house during school holidays.
The aroma of honeysuckle vines and scented roses that
filled the air. Her
grandmother’s lavender scent that would smother your
nostrils every time she hugged you.
The rambling old house made to accommodate a large
family, with lots of nooks and crannies for her to explore.
Her curiosity would have a field day whenever she
visited Gran’s place.
On
previous visits she wasn’t game to go exploring in the
attic. Maureen
had an instinctive fear of heights.
Those steep, narrow stairs leading up to the darkened
doorway frightened her, and she’d run away shaking her head,
yet feeling annoyed with herself for being such a “scaredy
cat”. But, this
year, she decided she was going to venture up to the attic, no
matter how fearful it made her feel.
Taking her mother’s torch, she ascended the stairs
carefully, willing herself not to look down.
Reaching
the doorway at the top, she thought to herself, “Well, that
wasn’t so bad. Now,
to finish what I plan to do.
I wonder if there’s any treasure hidden away up
here.”
By
torchlight, the attic appeared small and spooky.
When Maureen found the light switch, the room took on a
whole new outlook. She
couldn’t believe her eyes!
There was so much stuff stored up here.
Now she knew what her mother meant about Gran being a
hoarder.
Out
of the corner of her eye, Maureen noticed a small window, up
high, near the ceiling. Looking
straight down from the window, a large wooden box caught her
attention. Being a typical, inquisitive child, she made her
way, over and around several other items stacked in front, to
reach it.
Wiping
the dust from the box’s lid, she discovered a strange
drawing of two, nearly naked men, standing on either side of a
giant shield. They
were each carrying a long-handled axe over their shoulder.
The drawing was etched into the timber, with the word
“Chameron” underneath it.
Maureen became excited about what might be inside this
mysterious box and looked for a way to open it.
After searching for a latch or lock, she decided that
it must open by just lifting the lid.
Heaving with all her strength, the heavy lid slowly
opened, until it fell back against the wall with a loud
“THUD”.
With
eyes like saucers, Maureen stared in wonder at the mystifying
things inside. Unable
to contain herself, she grabbed the first thing on top. It was a large roll of strange-looking paper with a funny,
waxy blob sticking it down.
When Maureen pulled at it, the roll slowly unwound, to
reveal a drawing of a tree, with lots of branches on it.
On each of the branches were lots of words, in a
writing she had never seen before.
Maureen thought this drawing might be one of those
“family trees” she remembered learning about at school.
She
lay the drawing carefully aside and lifted out a book that
looked really old, with a crinkly, battered cover, and pages
with worn edges.
“This
could be someone’s diary”, thought Maureen, “Because it
doesn’t have a cover like a story book.”
Opening
the cover, she saw an inscription on the inside, in that funny
writing again. She flicked through some of the pages, and her
frown of annoyance increased.
She was not able to recognise what it said.
With a sigh of frustration, she placed the book with
the “family tree”.
Maureen
glanced inside the box again, and noticed an old envelope
sitting on top of a large object, carefully positioned at the
bottom.
“Which
one will I take out next? It might be best to lift them out together, and then
decide.”
As
she lifted them out, the envelope slid off the top, and fell
to the floor. A
bundle of photographs spilled out.
Maureen quickly bent down to pick them up, and lost her
grip on the other item in her hands.
“What
a mess! I hope I
haven’t broken anything, or Gran will be really upset with
me.”
Retrieving
the spilt items, one particular photo caught her eye.
A tall, proud man, dressed in some sort of costume and
carrying a strange musical instrument, stared back at her from
his black and white frame of frozen time.
For some reason, Maureen seemed to be drawn to this
photo. As she
picked it up to take a closer look, she felt goose bumps all
over her body.
Turning
the photo over, Maureen found the same funny writing.
But there were three words she could recognise –
“Sir Ewen Cameron”.
“This
must be the man’s name. But what is a man doing wearing a skirt?”
Maureen
mulled over in her mind all the puzzling things her young
brain had trouble comprehending.
She vigorously shook her head, like a dog does when
it’s wet, as if trying to rid herself of all those confusing
thoughts.
Suddenly,
the silence of the attic was interrupted by noises from down
below. “I have
looked for Maureen everywhere.
Where has that mischievous girl got to?”
Maureen
recognised her mother’s voice … and her mother sounded
annoyed. Maureen
knew she was in trouble if her Mum and Gran found her in the
attic!
In
her hurry to arrange the things back into the trunk, Maureen
fumbled the large item, and it started to unravel from its
wrapping. Maureen
gasped with surprise as red, black and white material was
partially revealed. Barely
able to contain her excitement, she continued unwrapping it,
until the skirt made its appearance from the shrouding that
had protected it for so long.
As
if to confirm what she could see, Maureen looked back and
forth, from the skirt to the photo several times.
“Wow!
This has to be the skirt the man in the photo is
wearing. I
can’t see the colours in the photo, but the pattern is
exactly the same.”
“Ah,
I see you’ve discovered the family heirlooms, my dear.”
Maureen’s grandmother’s softly spoken voice came
from behind her.
Maureen
jumped with fright, and dropped the skirt she was holding in
her hands. She
turned to see her Gran smiling at her, and her Mum looking at
her with a scowl on her face.
“You
wicked girl! I
knew you were up to something when I discovered my torch
missing”, her mother said in a threatening tone.
“Now,
now, Colleen, the child has an inquiring mind.
She hasn’t done any harm”, her Gran said
soothingly.
Although
Maureen was concerned about being in trouble, she couldn’t
hold back her questions.
“Gran, can you tell me about all the unusual things
I’ve found in this big box, please?”
Over
the next two hours, Gran explained to Maureen about their
family history. She
told her how they originated from a Scottish highland clan.
She explained how her
great-grandfather-three-times-removed, Angus Cameron, migrated
to Australia from Scotland, bringing all these family
heirlooms with him … in this trunk.
These things had been passed on to him from his father.
It
was tradition for each new generation to take on the
responsibility of keeping the heirlooms safe.
Normally the eldest son took the responsibility but
Gran had them passed on to her in her father’s will; because
there were no male offspring, there were only girls.
Gran was the eldest girl.
Maureen
learned from her Gran that an ancestor, called John Cameron,
drew the “family tree” onto the rolled-up parchment many
hundreds of years ago - in 1426!
Each new branch was added by the next generation.
Gran informed Maureen that the funny writing on the
drawing, and in the old, battered diary, was an ancient Celtic
language, from which the Scottish language originated.
The
diary belonged to another ancestor called Thomas Cameron, who
started writing diary entries in 1501, and continued writing
about his life adventures until he died.
Maureen
looked at her Gran, and told her about the funny reaction she
had to the photograph.
“Ah,
Sir Ewen Cameron was one of the most powerful and famous of
the clan’s chiefs. That
is a photo taken of a painting of him, hanging in the Cameron
clan castle at Lochiel. The
“skirt” is indeed the one worn by him in the photo.
But, it’s really called a “kilt”, which is part
of the traditional costume worn by Scottish Highland
clansmen.”
Without
warning, the voice of Maureen’s annoyed mum interrupted the
conversation between the grandmother and grandchild. “Mother, why didn’t you tell me about our family history
when I was younger?”
“Well,
Colleen, I didn’t think it was necessary.
The trunk, and its contents are going to be handed on
to you brother, Robert, when I pass away.” Gran had a wry smile on her face, as she turned to give
Maureen a wink with her left eye.
…
Images of the past quickly leave Maureen’s thoughts, as the
sound of the front-door banging shut grabs her attention!
“Hi,
Mum! Sorry I‘m a bit late getting home from school, but
I was talking with my friends and lost track of the time.”
“Don’t
worry, Megan, I’m sure you and the girls had lots to gossip
about. Can you
come into the spare room for a minute, sweetie?” asks
Maureen.
Megan
enters the room, and notices the tartan material on the sewing
machine. “How’s it going with my tartan skirt for the
dance recital, Mum?”
“Oh,
okay. It’ll be
ready by this weekend for you to use at your final
rehearsal”, replies Maureen.
Megan
comes closer to her mother and looks with attention at her.
“Is everything all right, Mum? You look like you’ve been
crying.”
“Do
I really? I hadn’t even realised,” says Maureen, as she
touches her cheek to feel for the moisture of tears. “It’s
fine, sweetie. I’ve
just been reminiscing about the past, and your Great-Gran
Megan. You were
named after her.”
Maureen
folds her daughter into her arms.
She hugs her, then gives her a wink with her left eye
as she says, “I think you and I should go to visit your
Uncle Rob. He has
some family treasures I’m sure you’ll be interested in.”
Member of Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders Rifle Regiment in Full Dress Uniform, Kilt and Sporran
Photographic Print
Buy at AllPosters.com
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