"Seath Mòr" means "Big Shaw" and would have been a typical name for a clan chieftain and progenitor of you and your kin.
"Mòr" for "big" or "great" may be a relic of the little-known Pictish language that was lent to Scots Gaelic. It was probably closer to Welsh or Cumbric than Gaelic though. Cf. Welsh "mawr".
I have ancestry in England and Scotland, in fact I was born in England, but grew up in the States with an American heart. I have been back to the old country as much as I think I'll ever need to in my life. Want to see some new places now.
How very wonderful that you were able to visit your ancestor's footsteps. Touch the earth, taste the air, lift your eyes to the sky, and feel the ground's vibrations on your skin.
As others have said, nice piece. With each passing year I can feel the need to re-connect grow stronger. Not sure where it would be pulling me back to – – Detroit, the Ukraine? Maybe it's just my need to hang onto a real past and avoid the who-knows future.
We spent two weeks exploring the Scottish Highlands and your story evokes many wonderful memories: Rothiemurchus, Aviemroe, Inverness, were all places we visited too. We visited cemeteries with grave stones that were hundreds of years old; stayed in a B&B that was a renovated cattle barn that was 600 years old. Amazing history and glad you could get in touch with your ancestral roots.
I spent a couple of weeks in Inverness a while back and took the train to Aviemore but never got out and hiked. I still want to! There's something about the old places of the British Isles - especially Ireland, Scotland, Wales - that allow big questions to sit front and center. Those coins are as much an homage to the place as it is now as they are to the person buried there.
Wonderful piece, Hank ! I, too, would love to visit the homeplace of my clan, but my time for that is getting shorter. On name changes, I have (to me) a hilarious example: My surname was Franklin, and everyone was bursting with pride that we were descended from Ben Franklin. Not hardly, as it turns out! Our ancestor was a Long, whose widowed mother married a Franklin; it’s unclear if the child was adopted legally, or just raised by the stepfather and took his name. All of the puffed up pride and hubris about a mythical lineage! It really cracked me up! Anyway, I’d like to go up to Inverness, head north, and visit my actual clan turf.
I was born in Vietnam, but I’ve been in the U.S. since I was 2. Although I do feel connection in that I still have family in Vietnam, it absolutely does not feel like “home” to me. The local Vietnamese can spot a “Viet Kieu” from a mile away — an “overseas Vietnamese” person — and I am treated accordingly. When my aunt and uncle pass away, there will be some property (not much) passed down to my brother and me. It is our father’s ancestral home that has been in the family for centuries. We have been grappling with the impracticality of trying to keep it when neither us are interested in living in a Vietnam or selling it, which feels like a complete betrayal to our parents’ wishes and our ancestors. Even if we kept it intact, we doubt it would survive our children, who feel even more removed from the culture. Plus, being a communist country, the government could technically come in and take it at any time.
"Seath Mòr" means "Big Shaw" and would have been a typical name for a clan chieftain and progenitor of you and your kin.
"Mòr" for "big" or "great" may be a relic of the little-known Pictish language that was lent to Scots Gaelic. It was probably closer to Welsh or Cumbric than Gaelic though. Cf. Welsh "mawr".
I have ancestry in England and Scotland, in fact I was born in England, but grew up in the States with an American heart. I have been back to the old country as much as I think I'll ever need to in my life. Want to see some new places now.
I, too, hope to visit the town my great-grandfather Ross came from. Bonar Bridge. I'm just starting to look into my Scottish heritage.
P.S. Forgot -- loved the photos.
How very wonderful that you were able to visit your ancestor's footsteps. Touch the earth, taste the air, lift your eyes to the sky, and feel the ground's vibrations on your skin.
Hey, I lived in Aviemore for four years. Wish I'd known you were heading there to give you some recommendations! Rothiemurchus is a magical place.
I am glad you know where home is Hank. Searching for it is exhausting.
As others have said, nice piece. With each passing year I can feel the need to re-connect grow stronger. Not sure where it would be pulling me back to – – Detroit, the Ukraine? Maybe it's just my need to hang onto a real past and avoid the who-knows future.
Even though my ancestry is very different, in your hands, the concept of home is the same.
So well written. I love " we are all wanderers. We all need a home." Both are true.
We spent two weeks exploring the Scottish Highlands and your story evokes many wonderful memories: Rothiemurchus, Aviemroe, Inverness, were all places we visited too. We visited cemeteries with grave stones that were hundreds of years old; stayed in a B&B that was a renovated cattle barn that was 600 years old. Amazing history and glad you could get in touch with your ancestral roots.
I spent a couple of weeks in Inverness a while back and took the train to Aviemore but never got out and hiked. I still want to! There's something about the old places of the British Isles - especially Ireland, Scotland, Wales - that allow big questions to sit front and center. Those coins are as much an homage to the place as it is now as they are to the person buried there.
A wonderful meditation.
Really nice read Hank. Takes you up and down the mountain of thinking about home.
Wonderful piece, Hank ! I, too, would love to visit the homeplace of my clan, but my time for that is getting shorter. On name changes, I have (to me) a hilarious example: My surname was Franklin, and everyone was bursting with pride that we were descended from Ben Franklin. Not hardly, as it turns out! Our ancestor was a Long, whose widowed mother married a Franklin; it’s unclear if the child was adopted legally, or just raised by the stepfather and took his name. All of the puffed up pride and hubris about a mythical lineage! It really cracked me up! Anyway, I’d like to go up to Inverness, head north, and visit my actual clan turf.
I was born in Vietnam, but I’ve been in the U.S. since I was 2. Although I do feel connection in that I still have family in Vietnam, it absolutely does not feel like “home” to me. The local Vietnamese can spot a “Viet Kieu” from a mile away — an “overseas Vietnamese” person — and I am treated accordingly. When my aunt and uncle pass away, there will be some property (not much) passed down to my brother and me. It is our father’s ancestral home that has been in the family for centuries. We have been grappling with the impracticality of trying to keep it when neither us are interested in living in a Vietnam or selling it, which feels like a complete betrayal to our parents’ wishes and our ancestors. Even if we kept it intact, we doubt it would survive our children, who feel even more removed from the culture. Plus, being a communist country, the government could technically come in and take it at any time.