A bit of history:
Growing up, we always went to the Utah Scottish Festival. The festival is in June and it has always been right around my birthday so to me it was always something cool to do for my birthday. Every year we would go, see the pipers, see the athletics, and look around to see if we could find a clan where we belonged. Our family names never were the major clans, I did not have a Wallace or Donald or Scott anywhere that I knew of. We were Clarkes, and Martins on my mothers side after all and we did not see any or those names in big letters on a banner telling me that these people were MY kin. At the end of the day, though I did not know who my clan was, or where I fit, I knew that I these crazy Scottish people were who I had come from. I always teared up hearing the pipes play Scotland the Brave, and Highland Cathedral, and I knew that somewhere in this madness was a place I belonged. Growing up I felt it in my bones, so when it came time for my prom in High school, instead of a tuxedo, we rented a kilt and that was the first time I had ever worn one.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I wanted to find my place, but for prom, it was a stop gap and I was excited to at least be wearing a kilt for this. Finding my place would come later. As I got older, the idea sat in the back of my mind that one day, when I was ready to get married, I would find my place and maybe, just maybe, I would wear a kilt, rented or otherwise to my wedding.
In the spring of 2012, this happened and the tartan I wore was the tartan of Clan Leslie. I had searched, and looked at my history and finally decided that this was the one, and that was where I fit. There was only one problem, as far as I knew, there were no other Leslie's in the state besides my immediate family. In June of 2012 I set up my first tent at the Utah Scottish Festival representing my Clan, shortly there after I joined the Utah Scottish Association board and have helped make this festival happen ever since. Of course there were times when it was lonely, it was my immediate family after all who was holding our booth, but I was here and I had finally figured out where I belonged.
2 years ago I was approached about hosting the Clan Leslie Gathering at my festival in 2018 and I was nervous, but at the same time excited to have this opportunity. The gathering is when the people from your clan come together, enjoy the festival, have a business meeting and generally get to know each other. Last weekend, I had 26 members of the Clan Leslie Society Intentional, including our clan Chief come to our games as the honored clan.
It was strange, every time I looked around my booth, there were kilts just like mine, and people who knew some of the same clan stories, and things I had read about over the past few years. Here were people who wanted to help me do what I do better, and all of them were willing to step up and teach me things I never knew about hosting a tent, or talking to new members. These were MY people. I ate, drank, laughed and nearly cried with people who live many miles away but are in one way or another related to me. In this moment, it was not just me and my family it was family I never knew who were here with me.
It is hard to know how to judge the success of an event. Some may say that it is all about how many people you have show up, or how many names you get on a list, or if things went smoothly. In this case we had our hiccups, but it all worked out. Sure, we rewrote the script a couple times, we marched last when we should have been first, but we did it in style we did it as a family. We all had a good time as kin, we had some laughs, a drink or two, but at the end of the day, I found my people.
There is something else that happened this weekend that just makes me light up on the inside. At one point, a dear friend, and kinsman from another side of the family told me he wanted to talk to our clan chief. He told the chief of our clan just how much he appreciated me, how proud he was of me, and how good of a guy I was. He did not have to tell him this, he felt it was important, and that touched me deeply. This weekend I found my people, I found where I fit, and no matter what I know I have friends and kin who want me to succeed, I do not have to be alone.
The root of the word kindred is kin, and this weekend I found some truly kindred souls with whom I share a history, it is may not be a near one, it is not in the past century, but it is a shared history. In my heart I know where I belong. But there is something more, I know that my son will grow up knowing where he belongs and that is worth the world to me.
I want to take a moment to thank my mother, my wife, and my sisters for everything they did to make things go smoothly. Without their help, none of this would have come together. They worked long hours to help me make things work as well as they did often working behind the scenes so it all came together and I could not have done it without them.
Lastly, for my Leslie's I have to say: What?!?!
Lastly, for my Leslie's I have to say: What?!?!
