At band practice, Pete got . . . called? appointed? assigned? . . . to be the Pipe Sargent. This means he is the second-in-command of the Grade IV/J.T.Dunnies. I'm perfectly content with this. Sean is going to be playing with the LA Scots and going to school and working and teaching, so I think his plate is full enough without band practice. Pete has always been very kind to everybody, even to me when I was a newbie and nobody else even looked at me. He's been in the band the longest.

I found out that Sean is the same age as Daughter #1. Aaaaaaagh! I could be his mother, and he's leader of the band! He started piping at age 12. Small Son was interested to know this, since he's starting at age 9.

Past history: On Sunday at Regional Conference, we happened to sit in front of Carleton Christensen (running for Utah Senate against Luz Robles) and family. He handed me a list of plants and said his brother runs a nursery and he planted too many last spring and was going to throw the excess out. However. His wife, Sister Christensen, is a member of the No More Homeless Plants group and wouldn't let him. They were giving the plants away to good homes on Monday night. I have been thinking about planting some more color on the boulevard, so I went over there and got about 15. They are now happily (I hope) ensconced and I hope they survive. I'm terrible with plants. When they die, which happens about 50% of the time, I cry over them. I can't put flowers on their graves, because those would just die, too.

September 11

I agreed to do a gig for . . . well, it was either for the US Army or the City of Sandy . . . for 9/11 at a place called the Healing Field. The other two pipers who showed up were Ian and Aaron.

About 1700 flags had been set up in a grassy median, each one tied with a yellow ribbon. It was an amazing sight. Let me see if I can get a link. www.healingfield.org/

As always when the Army is involved, it's a case of "hurry up and wait". Colonel McLean kept us entertained with amusing antedotes while we waited for things to start. Guests of honor included the Lieutenant Governor, Miss Utah, and parents and families of Utah soldiers who had died in action. One family had lost their son 6 days ago. They were obviously still struggling to deal with their loss. It was poignant to see them. I had to pointedly not look at them. It's very hard to pipe when you are crying. Major-General Peter Cook also showed up at the last minute, and wanted to address the (small) crowd, and because he was a Major-General, they had to let him. Other people talked, but mostly the speakers were pointed away from us and we couldn't hear them so we just let them talk and we discussed other things.

Finally, after 30 minutes of standing in the wind waiting, it was our turn. The vocal soloist, Kelly (Something) sang some (I think) new words to Green Hills of Tyrol, then we played through it twice at about half speed, then she sang the rest of the verses.

They had the little memorial of boots and an upturned rifle stuck into the ground with a helmet on top. This was set up at one side of . . . well, there wasn't a stage, just a designated center of attention . . . The mothers came up and put their fallen childrens' dogtags on the rifle. They did a roll call, calling off the names of some of the soldiers present, and the last name called was the soldier who had died 6 days ago, Jordan Thiebault. His name was called several times. There was no answering "present!" I was trying hard not to cry. The Thiebault family had been the last to add dogtags. They stayed up there, close together, while a soldier came forward in front of the boots-and-rifle memorial, knelt and bowed his head. That was our cue to start Amazing Grace. I did good. I was successfully able to do the slow roll strike in several times, in unison with Ian and Aaron. I didn't mess up the tunes. We had expected to be out of tune after standing in the wind for so long, but the tuning was pretty good, except for the D. My blowing was good. And I made both cut-offs.

Then I had to rush to the Celtic Center for the last half of my lesson and to pick up Small Son who was patiently waiting after his own lesson and reading his book, Sea of Monsters, by Rick Riordan.

Jason had a headache and was tied with a short string. Pete teased him that his forehead was bulging. It made him laugh, but I don't think it made his headache feel any better.

It's fair time in all the states, but our hearts turn to Minnesota, the state of the best fair in the US. The MN State Fair Historical Society is collecting Fair stories, and I wrote one and it actually got published on their website. Here it is in its entirety (under my pen name, Meadhbgh Olcan McGillicuddy)

Fair Memories
Story By: Meadhbh O. McGillicuddy
Place: Utah
Date: 9/4/08
Story:
The Minnesota State Fair! Other state fairs are only carnivals. Garrison Keilor said it was "like Manhattan, only with more livestock". We've been to Manhattan, and it's true! Mom started looking forward to it in January. We saved up our money for months in advance, and then Dad wouldn't let us spend it until the very end, because he said he wanted us to see everything there was to buy before we made our purchase. Really, it was because he didn't want to carry those purchases around for the rest of the day!

We were always so cold walking into the Fair in the morning, so we kept all our coats and blankets, but as soon as breakfast was over, things had warmed up and Dad had to take them all back to the car again.

It's a big place, the Fair. Easy for a kid to get lost. Every year Mom drilled us: What do you do if you get lost? We chanted back: find a Fair worker, tell them you're lost, they 'll take you to the lost kid booth, and pretty soon Mom and Dad will show up to claim you. One year Tommy got lost on purpose, just to see if it would work. (It did.) One year Betsy got lost 12 times in one day.

One year we got there early on Goat day and got to milk a goat.

Parking was always . . um . . . exciting. One year Mom parked the car near the footbridge, not realizing there were two footbridges, and at the end of the day when we went to get the car, it was gone. The golf cart guy took Kathy round the whole parking lot until she recognized our car still parked near the other footbridge.

We found that if you station yourself strategically between the milk bar and the brownie booth, you can drink a lot of milk. One year Dad won the "Who Can Drink the Most Milk" family contest by drinking 26 cups of milk. It was a long time before he could drink milk again.

One year we counted how many things on sticks you could find at the Fair and got to 57 before we stopped. Even the map was on a stick!

One year we took the bus out, just to hear the Beach Boys sing "California Girls", and got there just as they were ending it. One year we flew to Chicago and drove through a tornado just to be there.

Some things happened every year: watching the draft horses get exercised up and down the street near the horse barn, trying to keep Sandy from climbing on ALL the tractors, trying to keep Dad from buying a hot tub, eating deep fried cheese curds, watching the cows get milked but watching also where you stepped, being bored to death by all the sewing and knitting that Mom had to look at, trying a different argument to get Dad to let you go on some rides, and dragging him away from the radio booths. (He was listening to them on his Walkman, anyway? Why did he have to BE there?)

The Minnesota State Fair is a rich experience.

Meadhbh O. McGillicuddy is from Salt Lake City, UT

Daughter #1 also wrote a Much Better Story under her own name. She wrote hers first, so I couldn't very well write Rose from SLC again, cuz they would think it was the same person, which is one of the reasons I used my pen name.

A Family Affair
Story By: Rose
Story:
Growing up in Minnesota, the fair was a bigger deal than Christmas. My family, which at that period included my parents, myself, my little sister Cat, and in later years an extra piece of luggage known as my sister Bethe, went every year with all due pomp and ceremony. We drove into the Cities absurdly early in the morning; my sister and I slept under our baby quilts in the backseat of our old white Isuzu Trooper. Then we stumbled blearily through the quiet gray fairgrounds to have breakfast at that place with the bendy mirrors outside -- to this day I'm not sure what it's called, but it's full of nice church volunteers. (The mirrors were the best part, though.) Then, as the fair woke up, so did we, hiking through the endless colorful sea of animals, advertisers, people, landmarks, vendors, and attractions. My parents always went on Ye Old Mill and made me watch my siblings. We always begged and pleaded to be allowed to go to the Midway, and learned from my dad the many secrets of why you can never win at carnival games. Then there was the DNR Building with its zoo of native animals and its blessedly cool theater where you could sit down for a few minutes. Those were exhausting, amazing, unforgettable summer days.

Then we moved to Utah.

Though I've been coming back to Minnesota every summer, it wasn't until 2007 that I managed to stay in my home state through to the end of August. When I informed my dad that I wasn't coming home until the end of the season, his immediate response was, "We'll come pick you up."
So up from Utah came my parents, my littlest sister (now not so little) and my baby brother, who is a Minnesotan by birth but who had been six months old at his first and only fair. We did it all the same old way: the soft silvery early morning, the loud and cheerful breakfast, the baby pigs, the racially supremacist sheep (I defy anyone to walk into that sheep barn and not have KKK flashbacks because of those hoods all the animals wear), the giant fishpond, the single-piece tree sculptures. It was all new to my little siblings. What was new to me was really opening my eyes to appreciate what the fair did for my family: how my dad got to teach all his kids about probability math at the carnival games, how my siblings got to connect with Cat and me by copying all the things we used to do, how my parents got to flirt and tease each other (I can't remember the bet, but my dad lost something and had to buy Mom a funnel cake), how we all became so close when we flopped down on the grass next to the go-cart track to rest our weary feet.

We're back out in Utah now, but we'll be back to the fair again, never fear. I don't understand how families manage to stay together without it.

I've kinda been in shock since the last entry. It seems like 3 weeks since The Breakup, but I guess it is only 2. I haven't really been practicing, just running around like a chicken with it's head cut off. I expect to fall over and die momentarily.

We have been given a list of 26 tunes that we are required to know for J.T.Dunnie. Most of them I am OK with, but there are a few that are going to cause me Big Problems and require Mega Practicing. Here's the list:

Donald Maclean
Farewell to Nigg
100 Pipers
Heights of Dargai / Battle of the Somme
Mills Set
Smith’s Set
Minstrel Boy / Wearing of the Green
Amazing Grace / Scotland the Brave
Brouges on the Cobbles (still have to get the last part)
Salt Lake Scots / JT Dunnie
Green Hills / Battle O’er
Highland Cathedral
Bells of Dunblane / Glasgow Police
Farewell to the Tay
Correhollies / Teribus
Clumsy Lover (last 2 measures, speed)
Timed Medley
High Road to Linton (part 2)
Flowers of the Forest

Massed Band tunes including: Barren Rocks of Aden / Bonnie Dundee

So 4 of them are what I really have to work on, now. OK 6, with the 2 new tunes we are learning: Glasgow Police and JT Dunnie, both of which I have almost memorized, but not quite. The killers are going to be High Road and Donald McLean. Ugh!

At practice last night, I figured of all groups of people, the band would be the last people to notice I'd got my hair cut (see previous entry)(if you can). As far as the band goes, your real life doesn't exist, except to get in the way of practice or gigs. However. Pete said it looked nice, right off. Jim made a comment about Rose Bobbing Her Hair. Sande also said it looked nice, did I miss it yet? Sean was late arriving, and before he had even turned around from coming down the auditorium aisle, he mentioned my hair being cut and that it looked nice, he had never seen it down before. I was astonished! Pleasantly surprised! Small Son still hasn't noticed.

It was a practice full of laughter, despite the fact that we went over some tunes that we played really terribly and need to work really hard on, and we discussed recombination of tunes in complicated manners until my head was spinning. And despite the fact that Dave said he won't be able to come to practice until spring because of hockey. That was very sad.

Daughter #1 came into my office (in the closet) yesterday morning VERY early and said that Daughter #2 had called off the wedding. Not that she had, but that Jeff had called it off, and 2nd Daughter didn't want me running in there to yell at her. Of course I didn't. This changes many things.

1) No more rush to get bridesmaid dresses done.

2) 1st and 2nd Daughter will be sharing a room for longer than was originally planned.

3) Christmas stocking doesn't need to be finished so quickly.

4) Don't have to try to get the dates off from work.

5) There are a lot of things like wedding gifts and announcements and apartements and relatives' logistics that no longer have to be dealt with.

My poor little girl. She had definitely been crying, and I kept seeing evidence of crying on her face all day. She really loves him, and does not want to lose him. I can't figure this one out: why did he do this? Didn't he already get confirmation? Why did he ask again? It seems like HF said, "I already answered that question. Next question . . . " The funny thing is, 1st Daughter, who usually takes it as a personal insult when her friends fall in love and/or get married, kinda likes Jeff. Anyway, we came home last night and found them snuggled up on the couch and 2nd Daughter was all smiles, but no wedding. I dunno. Guess I'll go practice. (I'm still making the Christmas stocking. I'm still hopeful to have him as a son-in-law.)

The games went well. We got off on time with a full trunk, but got stuck in traffic so were late picking up Michelle in Brigham City. But we got there, and HH got her stuff squoze into the trunk somehow without breaking either the trunk or the stuff.

We took the long way to Jackson, WY, passing through beautiful valleys and climbing laboriously up beautiful mountains. We got TB, but we got there.



Games day dawned cold and bright. Oweing to the fact that HH and SS stayed in the hotel with us the night before instead of driving to Yellowstone and camping someplace, which place they would only have reached after 10pm, they drove us to the fairgrounds where the games were held and THEN left. So we had breakfast and then realized we were on in 15 minutes. I had one of Cat's solos and my 2 all at the same time: 8:45. So I hurriedly got Dennis to tune me and played the 2/4 march, Lady Lever Park, and did OK. Then we were on for the 6/8, Dugal Gillespie, which I totally ruined. Couldn't remember the 3rd part, so I played the 1st part again. Cat did beautifully, keeping on playing despite my fumblings. Then I did my 2/4, same as before, and did OK. Then I had a 5 minute break where I had Dennis tune me again and I did my slow air. Both judges said my drones and chanter were out of tune with each other. I wonder if Dennis sabotaged them? So after than rather harried 20 minutes, we had some hours to kill until massed bands at noon, then the Mill set at 1:20 and the Timed Medley at 3:20. During that time we looked at the booths (all 10 of them) and I introduced Cat around. Here she is with her relatives, Dusty, (Cat), Kathy, Mr., and BJ Gunn, from MY band! And all drummers, too!



We, as a band, seemed to play flawlessly, but in the end they would have given us 4th if we'd had 6 pipers. We had 5. So I dunno what happened. We got pretty tired by the end of the day, so that I was brain dead when it was time to switch to McCallum chanters and tune up for the closing massed bands.When Jason listened to my chanter, he asked, sort of randomly, "Why are you so flat?". Being brain dead and not monitoring my speech, I just said what came into my head: "Genetics." He chuckled and said he deserved that. When he listened to the next set of pipes, instead of asking the same question, he said, "You're flat-chested, too." It was something to laugh about as we struggled home with all our kit, including a (very heavy) snare drum. We got changed and rested up and went out on the town looking for a quick and cheap dinner. Difficult to find on Games day in a tourist town. We had pizza and a lovely discussion, went back to the hotel and watched the Beijing Olympics until we fell asleep.

We went home the quick way. Cat proudly displayed her 2 silver medals to all and sundry, and to our collective entertainment. She deserved them; she kept on playing when I was foundering in the mud of my memory. We decided they were for poise and presence, not necessarily for playing. But hey! Medals are medals, no matter what they are for! Her flights home were uneventful, too, for once.

So those were the Jackson WY Highland Games for 2008.

It's almost time for the Jackson Games in Wyoming. Catherine is flying out here to go with us. I have her drum already, and she should be arriving at 1600 today. We are all excited to have her. She will finally get to meet Daughter #2 (see left) and we get to compete together at Jackson, doing Lady Lever Park and/or Dugald Gillespie. We have been cleaning all week, to have things nice for her, but I think it would take a year of bulldozing to make this house "Parade of Homes"-ready. [sigh] Things have been cleaned that haven't been cleaned in a LONG time. The house looks lovely. I wish I'd had time to shampoo the carpet, but food for the girls staying home is priority.We are also taking Michelle, another piper from Grade 3, up with us.