week I gave you a brief introduction to my grandson, Ian Bascombe Shaw.
Today I would like to present to you my granddaughter, Stirling
Elizabeth Shaw. Stirling and Ian have both been taught about Scotland
and her bard, Robert Burns. They recognize the face of Burns on a coin,
a medal, a bust, a statue, or a picture in a book. One day I look
forward to them enjoying a more in-depth
relationship of the poems and songs of Burns. For now I am content that
my ten-year-old Ian and my eight-year-old Stirling know who he is, that
he was a poet and songwriter, and more importantly, the significant part
he played in the life of Scotland...then and now.
and Ian, like most brothers and sisters like to tease each other and
compete with each other on almost any topic. One morning at breakfast I
put some haggis on the table. Ian loves haggis but Stirling not quite as
much. Ian says to his father Scott, “Dad, isn’t it true if you are going
to be a real Scots person, you have to love to eat haggis.” Scott
replies, “Yes, son, you do.” Ian turns to his sister and says, “See,
Stirling, you can’t be much of a Scot if you don’t eat haggis”. I then
offer Stirling a bite of my haggis which she eats with a slightly
perplexing look on her face. Five minutes later, Ian brings the subject
up again, and I offer Stirling another small bite of my haggis. She
takes and swallows it, looks me right in the eye and retorts, “Papa, I
hope you don’t think I’m going to eat this stuff all day!” After
everyone laughed, I admit that was the end of that subject.
is a wee article I asked Stirling to write for Robert Burns Lives!
last weekend when her family was visiting our lake home, Waverley.
year, I went to Scotland. When I got there, I saw where Robert
Burns was born and
died. I walked to the church and saw his grave.
I am named for the city of
Stirling. It is fun to be named after a city and castle. Part of it was
closed to be repaired.
While in Scotland, I saw the first Shaw's grave.
His name was Shawmor. His grave had six stones on top of it at one time.
Someone threw them into the river. Only five of them were found.
Some people say the stones were cursed. My family pulled weeds off of his
Jura is where my family came from. I took a
ferry boat to Jura. I was surprised that the hotel did not have a TV.
I enjoyed having a cup of Cadbury hot cocoa before going to bed.
I love Scotland!”
By Stirling Shaw
Stirling (center in white) during one of her
soccer matches. Her coach, Jay McRaney, wrote, "One of the greatest
personal rewards this season was the look on Stirling's face when she
scored her goal".
alludes to a trip the six of us took last year during Scotland’s
Homecoming. We did not travel with a group but simply struck out on our
own, as a family, flying across the pond, renting a van and taking in as
much of the auld country as possible in a week – Edinburgh,
Rothiemurchus at Aviemore, (the old Shaw home place), Inverness,
Stirling, Glasgow, Jura, (where our branch of Shaws originated), and
how she liked Jura, Stirling told us she would like to live on Jura one
day but she would have to be rich so she could afford to have her own
television! Jura does have television but the hotel does not. Satellite
television is as close to you as the click on your browser. We concluded
our trip by traveling to London and Paris for a few nights.
So I was
not surprised a couple of weeks ago after one of Stirling’s soccer
matches when she asked, “Are we traveling to another continent this
summer?” I’m afraid she will have to settle for California in October!
Bitsy, as she is known within our family, is bold in her thinking and
her imagination is just as big! She enjoys soccer, swimming and is
approaching black belt status in tae kwon do for her age group. Stirling
is also a creative child and below is a poem she recently wrote as a
class project about her hands:
Hands By Stirling Shaw
my hands I like my hands. I can put my thumb on my wrist. My
hands remind me That I am a good drawer. My hands, my hands
They help me a lot. If I did not have my hands I would be lonely.
My hands, my hands.
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