A Modern Day Clan Alliance
Flobo Goes to a Scottish Festival. Gets Conscripted.
As I’m getting older, I’m becoming way more comfortable with my heritage(s). Call it a mix of being more true to self and being perhaps not as jazzed to say that I’m “just” an ‘MURICAN these days, but exploring what makes me…well, me, has been a trip. After an 18-year hiatus, for example, I started visiting Barbados again. Even got my citizenship of descent confirmed and scored a passport.
But exploring and leaning into my Scottish side was a recent development. Though I am legit Scottish on my dad’s side, Alba has been part of my mother’s story as well, following a stint living in Stirling. In recent years, I’ve attended Burns Suppers, walked the streets of Glasgow, and purchased a kilt of my affiliated clan, Clan Forbes.
So when the annual Orange County Scottish Festival rolled around, I decided to check it out. I didn’t quite know what to expect, being my first Scottish (American) Culture Festival. Was it going to be a giant family reunion? Was it going to be a bunch of cosplayers reciting Braveheart? Was it going to be just a re-skinned county fair with a couple of highland games and “Slàinte mhaths” thrown in for good measure? The answer is it’s all of that, and that’s okay. I can’t expect to be transported to the world of Outlander by way of Costa Mesa, California.
So for a couple of hours, I walked the grounds. Between checking out overpriced merch, drinking some of the beers and whiskies that were brought in for the event, and listening to some of the pan-Celtic bands, I was in the mood well enough. I headed down Clan Row, where there were a bunch of clans with their own tents up, looking to educate others about their collective histories. Sadly, Clan Forbes was nowhere to be found, but what I did find was a bit of an adventure. You see that elder gentleman in the pic at the top of this article? That’s Dan Murray and he’s the West US representative of Clan Kerr.
I met Dan Murray when I walked past the Clan Kerr tent, a tent which featured a banner that asked: “Are You Left Handed?” Curious, and because I had time to kill between my next round of beers, I walked inside, where Dan met me with a warm left-handed handshake. After a few pleasantries, he regaled me with stories of Clan Kerr and how they actively recruited left-handed warriors for defense purposes. Basically, left-handed swordsmen had a distinct advantage in battle, and so Clan Kerr would be the spot if you were a southpaw:
I thought it was super cool.
Dan continued on to say that in about thirty minutes, or so, there was to be a clan parade, where all the clans would be able to walk the grounds with a banner of their crest. While he was rarin’ to go, he wondered if he’d have the stamina to complete the walk with the banner held high. He asked whether—since I was left-handed—I would walk with Clan Kerr just for that day, and, if he got tired, would I be able and willing to raise the banner for a portion of the journey. And with that request, he gave me a plastic sword from a novelty bin and requested I hold it in my left hand.
Now, usually I would decline such a bonkers life side-quest. But I’m not sure if it was because my own clan didn’t show up or this felt like an episode out of the lamest fantasy novel of all time, but I said yes: Your boy Flobito was going to be a Kerr for a Day.
For those wondering, Dan lifted that banner high the entire march, at his own pace. We caused a bit of a log jam towards the end of it, but Kerr’s family motto is “Sero Sed Serrio” or “Late, but in earnest,” so it was kind of fitting.
And so, with my march over with and my tour of service over, I offered back my plastic sword, but I was told to keep it. And even though the march wasn’t a real battle to say the least, I did think about what it must have been like to fight alongside another clan for some reason or another back in ancient times. I didn’t buy much merchandise (that I couldn’t drink, heyoooo) at the festival, but I made a point to buy two fridge magnets of both “my” clan crests.
And if you’re wondering, ain’t no way would I do those highland games. My lower back would call out sick the night before to save itself the trouble.