Audio By Carbonatix
When a man calls your phone and asks you to join his clan, you may be tempted to hang up. But don’t! That caller spells “clan” with a “c” not a “k.” And if your surname is Guthrie, that caller is probably my dad.
You see, the annual Southeast Florida Scottish Festival took place at Fort Lauderdale Stadium on Saturday.
The festivities include a parade of people who march behind banners
representing various Scottish surnames. Each family name has at least
one tartan (a multi-cultured fabric pattern better known as plaid) that
is unique to them. Those who are seriously proud of their Scottish
heritage wear kilts and sashes made of their family tartan, beret-like
hats, and puffy Medieval-style shirts. Some even stash replica daggers
in their knee socks, behind another little pop of tartan fabric.
My dear old pop is one of those people. But apparently dressing in
costume and recruiting me, my sister, his wife, and my husband to walk
behind the Guthrie banner isn’t enough. He wanted more recruits. So
he opened the phone book in search of Guthries. He dialed their
numbers, and if someone answered, he introduced himself as the founder
and president of the “Broward-Palm Beach Clan Guthrie Society.” A
few told him that they were a Guthrie by marriage. Or, actually, from
the Irish branch of the family. One woman even felt the need to
say that she’s black. He wouldn’t take any excuses. His response to
all: “Come on down! I’ll have a tent and whisky.” At least
eight promised to make the trip.
Alas, only two showed (a landscaper from Delray Beach and his wife).
But boy did that Delray couple make Mr. Guthrie’s day. As the bagpipes
played, my father walked proudly in front of the Guthrie banner, huge
replica sword hoisted above his head, eyes teary with joy.
