We are the World

Hi there!

Remember me? I'm the writer who used to post on this blog.

Sorry for the infrequent appearances of late. I'm still busy writing Bloodrose and am being swept away by the final chapters. But I thought I'd better stop by to say "hello" and thank you for visiting, despite my own neglect of posts.

In addition to writing. I've also been sneaking in some World Cup games.

I love the World Cup! I'm likely to run screaming from the label "morning person," while clutching my coffee cup to my chest. Even so, I'll roll out of bed at 6:30 a.m. to watch Germany vs. Serbia (darn you referee and your yellow cards!!!).

I like the World Cup even more than the Olympics. To me it's like the difference between a family reunion and a girls' weekend with your BFFs in Vegas. One is nice and comfy while the other is a 'rockin good time not to be forgotten.

The World Cup has a life of its own. You get caught up in its fever. I love knowing that all over the world, soccer fans are glued to their television sets, gathered in pubs, cheering on their teams.(Yes I know Scotland didn't qualify for the World Cup. Quiet you!)

I came to soccer, excuse me, football fandom in college while studying abroad in Scotland. My family had spent a summer in Scotland seven years earlier and I went to visit family friends - who've become much more like family than simply friends over the years - and they pretty much adopted me.

No one loves football (or for that matter, sports) than my Scottish Dad, John, and his two sons. For her own part, their mum, Sandra, is a pretty loyal fan as well. To spend time with my Scottish family is to learn to love the beautiful game. I had no trouble being hooked or accepting the fact that to truly be Scottish means always rooting against England.

When the World Cup rolls around every four years it's not just about the excitement of the games or the mesmerizing skill of the players. (Tim Howard is my hero!)It's about feeling connected to my Scottish roots, to a world of roaring fans.

If you aren't watching you should really give it a try, or at least learn what a vuvuzela is.
I'm sending this out to John, my Scottish dad, - his favorite song - and true sports anthem. Wish I were watching the matches with you in Irvine!

Family Reunion

I spent the weekend at my home away from home - Irvine, Scotland.
Irvine is perched on the western coast of Scotland, halfway between Glasgow and Ayr. For those unfamiliar with Scotland, the west has the very broad (for many, unintelligible) accent - and it is one of my favorite parts of visiting. I usually adjust to the dialect quickly (only after many years of visits), but here's a snippet of one of the first conversations I had upon arriving.

Scottish dad: "Hae are ye, hen?"
Me: "I'm great."
Scottish dad: "That's smashin. Hae ye seen the cart?"
Me (frowns and glances in the back garden): "The cart?"
Scottish dad: "Aye, the cart."
Me (still looking for said cart): "The cart?"
Scottish dad: "Aye, the cart, she should be around."
Me (finally figures it out): Oh, the cat. (winces when I hear the how horrible the nasal aaaaaaa sound is when I pronounce the word). Yes, I've seen the cat. (winces again)

I was visiting some folks who I always refer to as "my Scottish family." To be technical, this family are not my blood relatives, but for all the love and kinship I share with them, they might as well be.

I first met John and Sandra Davidson when my father did a work exchange in the summer of '92. I was thirteen years old and John and Sandra quickly took our family under their wing, and became my Scottish mum and dad, as they have been ever since.

Over the years I've spent enough time in Irvine that after being there no more than an hour, I find myself slipping into Scottish patterns of speech and even thinking with a Scots accent.

One of the best courses I took in college was "The History of English;" I love learning about words and their origins. Going to Scotland is a wonderful way to learn about the diversity of language. There are Old Scots words that are brilliant. Here are just a few of my favorites:

skint - having no money: "I canna go up the road fer a pint, I'm dead skint."
drich - dreary, rainy day "Och, I'll nae go down the shore, it's an awffa drich day."
greet - cry. "Stop yer greetin, it's nae tha bad."
steamin - very drunk. "How's yer head? You were steamin las night."

And this is a hairy coo (Highland cow)...

and a wee hairy coo (Highland calf): I'm seriously not making these words up. My Scottish family and friends all use them constantly. I love these words, they have such a wonderful onomatopoetic (i.e. their sound evokes their meaning) quality. When I'm in Scotland every conversation becomes something of an adventure.

Unfortunately it wasn't all good news from the North. Ayrshire has recently been shocked by the announcement that Diageo (the corporation that owns the Johnnie Walker label) will be closing their factory in Kilmarnock, cutting 700 jobs.

Scotland has already been hard hit by recession, and this loss will devastate Ayrshire's economy. Local politicians, who were given no warning of the closure, are in talks with the company now to try to find an alternative solution to the job losses. Since Johnnie Walker is a major export, particularly to America, I'd encourage anyone in the U.S. who consumes this whisky or cares about Scotland to let Diageo know that you support any concessions they can make to save jobs in Kilmarnock.

Lang mae yer lum reek.