Derrick Coyle
It was forty-two years ago, as a 14-year-old, that I last visited Scotland with my older brother and a childhood pal. As we nervously bid farewell to our parents at Toronto (Pearson) International Airport, my brother asked how we would recognize our grandfather and uncle who were to meet us at the other end of the flight, six hours later in Prestwick.
“Ye aye ken yer ain” (you always know your own) came the reassuring words of a proud mother, who I suspect would have given anything to be boarding the plane to her homeland along with us.
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Jimmy Gollogly, Barney Byrne, Jimmy Coyle, Foncey Kane
My Irish father and Scottish mother immigrated to Canada in 1953 at the ages of 22 and 20. Dad came over first, with three mates from Ireland, to find work in Toronto. When he secured a job, he sent for my mother. Playing a hand, I suspect heavy in hearts, she packed a bag and boarded a ship to go ‘all in’ for a man and a dream they would share in a new land of opportunity. They married in Canada, shortly after settling, and completed their family with a run of four boys, and triumphantly, a culminating daughter. It was an act of bravery and inconceivable personal sacrifice for which five proud Canadian families will be forever grateful.
Dad was an only child of parents, who themselves, came from limited family lineage. With his departure at age 22, he bid farewell to a father and stepmother, who as things turned out, he would never see again. Dad has been back to neither his homeland of Ireland or to Scotland since he set sail 61 years ago.
Mum’s journey, in contrast – as a single gal from a large family – would have been a matter of more disruption. Though there has been very little in the way of family discussion on the topic, as the second eldest of six children leaving the homestead to head overseas, I suspect there were some heart-wrenching moments. Over the past 60 years, Mum has been back to Scotland several times. Her own mum, dad, and one of her brothers, each had lengthy stays with us in Canada. A couple of her sisters also came over for a few weeks of vacation. And, three Scottish cousins from the next generation, have come across with their families for a holiday – one, on three separate occasions.
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First trip to Scotland: Brother Jim, Mum, me
The inescapable byproduct of a young couple emigrating from their homeland to raise a family abroad, in addition to their own sacrifice of interaction and support from blood relatives, is offspring that grow up without benefit of grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins in their lives. We missed this as children and cherished the intermittent visits from overseas family. The first paying jobs for my brother and me – drug store delivery boys earning 90 cents an hour – were focused principally on funding a three-week trip to Scotland to meet family, known only from stories.
That’s not to say we didn’t have positive life influences in Canada. In what was something of a surrogate arrangement, there were a number of close family friends, primarily of Scottish or Irish origin, who were essentially conscripted family. Uncle Alan & Auntie Jean, Auntie Ina & Uncle Art, Uncle Barney and Auntie Margaret, Auntie Nan & Uncle Dougie. All, dear family friends who had made similar life pilgrimages and fully understood the value of reciprocal surrogacy in the lives of their respective children. Aunt Durine & Uncle Bud, and George & Joan Osborne – by virtue of having been neighbours and friends throughout our youth – were the honourary, Canadian-bred exceptions in our extended foster family configuration.
While this surely filled a void in our lives growing up, I can’t help but wonder if it wasn’t as much a tonic for the homesickness of parents, as it was a simulation of family structure and social support for the kids.
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Three weeks ago my wife and I excitedly boarded a plane to Scotland to spend a week-and-a-half with cousins, aunts and uncles, and their families. While we had met a few of them in person over the years, many we would be seeing for the first time. We were to be based from the home of my cousin Jim, his wife Gillian and son Scott, who have been to Canada three times, the last visit 10 years ago. We also had met cousin Iain and his wife Angela who were over to Canada about 20 years ago. My wife and I would know a couple of the aunts and uncles from their visits to Canada. For most others, we would be relying on my memories of aunts, uncles and young cousins from my visit 42 years ago. There was a full agenda of wonderful destinations and activities prepared for us that would give us lots of time with family, both familiar and new to us.
There is something very special about the bond of family that bridges miles and turns back time. An instant kinship that preempts any sense of awkwardness or anxiety. As it turned out, the meeting of family – for my wife as well as myself – was more like a reunion of people who’ve known and enjoyed each others company for years. It was truly incredible how at ease and comfortable it was for people whose prior interactions can be measured in days, or who were being introduced for the first time. We saw the uncanny resemblance, in the mannerisms and personality of my mother, in her sisters. Our sense of humour and interests aligned perfectly with cousins and their children. There was complete comfort and trust in sharing experiences and stories, from the light and casual, to the poignant and more sensitive. There is clearly a powerfully inherent bond in family that transcends geography.
Never have those wise motherly words from four decades ago seemed more fitting than in the week and a half we spent with family in Scotland: “Ye aye ken yer ain.”
Our Scottish family – after a wonderful ‘high tea’ in our honour
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As we reflect on how grateful we are to our Scottish clan for such a wonderful vacation, mope about the physical distance between us and a family abroad – but look forward to the arrival of several families who are already talking about trips to Canada in the next few years – it strikes me that it is the very geographic inconvenience that makes opportunities to unite, and reunite, so incredibly special.
When we do have the chance to get together – on either side of the pond – we showcase and share the wonderful places and things we take for granted in our respective homelands. We tell stories, have laughs, and truly enjoy each other. We enthusiastically engage in the opportunities and gift of the present and worry little about things in the past or future. We are conscious of the precious little time we have with each other and make the very best of every minute.
Now that I think on it, probably not a bad philosophy to live by at home as well.
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