I was never a history buff. I was the kid in high school who got caught napping instead of listening. “So?” I would ask. “Why does this matter?” Now my tweenage daughters ask the same question and I struggle to explain why.

“Because,” I say. And it’s not one of those “Because I said so’s”. It’s because now I “get it”.

I experienced my first taste of Scottish history a few years ago, when I devoured the “Outlander” series by author extraordinaire Diana Gabaldon. After I finished the books, I became lonely for rolling r’s and sword-wielding Highlanders. I wanted more. So I wrote my own book. In order to do that, I had to delve into a different rolling r: rrrrrresearch. Not my strongest asset. But I started digging. I took out every book the library carried on the subject and then, after major physiotherapy on my back, decided to surf the net. I googled historic websites and got in touch with the people who really know their stuff, the re-enactors. These people are often obsessive about their craft, and were the absolute best sources for research. I was lectured ad nauseum about sword lengths and hilts. About garrons vs horses. I was laughed at for my pre-conceived notions. And from those often borderline abusive comments grew my understanding and love of history.

I joined the Calgary Highland Games committee with the purpose of listening to Scottish brogues so I could incorporate them into my book. I listened to the pipes, learned about the dances and tried not to hyperventilate over the Heavy Events athletes. I watched Scottish actors (obsessively, some might say) and wore out my cd player listening to Celtic music. I gleaned information on my ancestral clans of Graham and Ferguson, imagining what life might have been like. Continue reading The Future of History