We had a great time in Scotland at my nephew’s wedding! What a beautiful place. It was another one of those experiences I could never have imagined having. They were married at a castle, with a pipe band and kilts and lots of salmon! The room where they exchanged their vows was covered with deer skulls and antlers, all hunted by members of the family of nobility that had lived there for hundreds of years. Long hallways and historic bedroom sets, tapestry, all kinds of history beginning around 1500.
Having never been to Europe at all, it was just the kind of thing that impresses a novice like me. Us Europeans are new comers in North America, but in Scotland, not so. Everything really felt OLD! Since many of my ancestors are from that part of the world, there was, in fact, some sense of homecoming too.
I’m not sure what the Scots made of us. We didn’t exactly fit in, as you might imagine. Every single person there was white, except for three of our party. My wife and I were the only lesbians, unless someone was doing a good job of hiding it (which we weren’t). But they took it pretty well- responding with confusion more than judgement.
At dinner, I introduced myself to the woman sitting next to me, pointing out my wife across the table. About five minutes later, she said, “I’m not sure I quite got who you’re here with.” “That’s my wife across the table and our three daughters and son-in-law at the next table. I think we’re legal here, aren’t we?” “Oh, yes, yes yes,” she answered quickly- I could see the light dawn, her thinking to herself “she DID mean wife…”
We wore the same clothes we wore to my daughter’s wedding, meaning that we were color coordinated and my wife was in a tuxedo (I told her later we should have gotten her a kilt, but for some reason she didn’t think that was funny). I left the room for a moment and, when I got back, she was Scottish dancing with all her heart, a dance called “strip the willow.” She later told me the locals kept getting confused with their instructions, because she had insisted on dancing on the men’s line, instead of the women’s. When we danced it together later, there were a few other young women doing the same.
I concluded at the end of it that, in general, you CAN tell people how to relate to you. Thousands of miles from home, geographically and culturally, people were able to adjust to us, accepting that when we introduced each other as wives, they were to treat us as such. Not one person scowled, or sneered or gave us so much as one sidelong glance. Instead, as seems to be the Scottish way, they were terribly concerned about whether we had everything we needed, whether we were having a good time, how did we find Scotland.
We missed Gay Day that weekend, but we did our part anyway, don’t you think? And we had a blast while we were at it!
Middle Aged Queer Mom 