The family tartan will be worn with pride

I wrote this column for the newspaper and thought since it includes Biscuit, it would be good to post it here.

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My family has a checkered past.

And those checks are blue, red and green.

I’ll be wearing that blue, red and green plaid next Monday, not as a fashion statement, but as a tribute to who I am. Or at least where I came from.

April 6 is National Tartan Day. And with my Scottish heritage behind me, I’ll be wearing the plaid pattern, or tartan, that represents my family, Clan Ross.

There are a lot of rules and traditions about how and when tartans should be worn — as kilts, scarves or banners. But all those aside, I just like that I have a physical symbol of my ancestry — an ancestry that begins for me with my Granny.

It’s her tartan that I’ll be wearing next week. It was something of hers that I really wanted after she passed away in January.Granny was never overly concerned with our distant past. She couldn’t tell you about the military victories or losses of Scotland or the holiday traditions and rites of passage. But when it came to our family’s history, she was the one who knew everybody — and everybody’s mama.

She was my last grandparent. And she was the only one of my grandparents who got to know me as an adult.

The best thing about Granny was that, even though she had some definite ideas about what she wanted for me, she never pushed me toward anything. I told her I didn’t want to get married or have kids. But when I came back years later and introduced her to my husband, she never said I told you so. She just told me how happy she was that I had found someone of my own.

And when I told Granny I was pregnant, she was over the moon. She couldn’t wait to meet that new baby.

Granny got to meet my son a little over a week before she died. Something pushed me to take an impromptu trip to Georgia to see her and show off my pride and joy. Two days later, she was taken to the hospital. She didn’t come home.

Speaking in Southern drawls that slowly replaced the Scottish brogues of our ancestors, many of my family members told me that they believe she was just hanging on until she could meet my son. She had talked about how she had lived a full life and that there wasn’t much left on this earth for her.

I don’t know, maybe that’s true.

But I do know that the first time she laid eyes on my son, her whole face lit up. And when she reached out to grab his little hand and he smiled at her, I nearly lost it.

I’m still sad about losing my Granny. But I know that I have all the things in my life that she ever wanted for me.And just as she taught me about family, I’ll pass along our history to my son.

I’ll start next Monday when I wear a little bit of blue, red and green.

Kim Mills also has embraced her Scottish heritage by tasting haggis and taking bagpipe lessons. Contact her at 373-7014 or kim.stacksmills@news-record.com.