Saying Goodbye...

My trip to Scotland was about uniting with family that I had never met before, finding lost family members of the past and putting them to rest in my own mind; and it was also about finding the courage within myself to push my personal boundaries in order to grow. But the tragic story of Peter Campbell, which I referenced in the beginning of my blog, was what ignited the spark within me to go on my own search to find him.

As I started asking around Inverness to find the prison that Peter passed away in, I discovered that it was still a working prison. I went to the tourist office and told them that Peter had died in that prison as a conscientious objector, and the ladies at the office became interested in the story. So, they called the prison, and the prison called the governor, and the governor sanctioned a visit. So, the very last day of my trip, on my birthday, I was able to go take a private tour of HM Prison Inverness. The prison itself was built in 1902, and Peter passed away there on April 8, 1919 of pneumonia. Seeing the final place in which he was imprisoned, and the place that he died, was very difficult, but it gave me some closure as well. There are currently plans for a new prison to be built, and for this one to be knocked down, so I really was given a true gift to be able to walk where Peter had walked. I said my final goodbyes to Peter as I dropped petals into the River Ness and thanked him for his beliefs, his bravery and his commitment to peace.

The Inverness tourist office also checked with Highland Council about Peters death, and they were able to verify that Peter was not buried in Inverness. The story, passed down through the family, was that his brothers took him home to their village of Glendale where he was buried in a grave that is still to be given a headstone. If there is ever a day when that changes, and we have the chance to give him a final memorial, I will go back to Scotland if at all possible.

I want to thank those that did genealogical research and had 'found Peter' for me the day after I booked my trip to Scotland. With all of the new information I received, I was able to connect with what Peter left behind in a new and more complete manner. And for that, I will be forever indebted.

I am a changed woman, and I feel like a more complete individual now that I have reconnected with my past and set my future into a positive motion for a free and happy life...even if it is just me, myself and I. I am the one that I can depend on to make my own dreams come true. I will always treasure the memories I have of Scotland and of the people I met there and will keep them in my heart forever.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I was quite anxious about the next part of my journey as I had to drive all the way to the northernmost tip of Scotland to reach a ferry that would take me, and my rental car, to the Orkney Islands. I was told just to follow the yellow brick road to the Emerald Island, but of course, I still managed to get myself lost! I did however, see some of the most beautiful Scottish countryside, and I would highly recommend traveling it for that alone. On my ferry ride over, I thought about my Grandpa Campbell who was one of the crew members aboard Jacques Cousteau's gray whale expedition. I've never seen a whale in the wild, and my grandpa was such a power house on Earth, I was sure he'd send me one, but we will get back to that later.

The reason that I wanted to see Orkney is that it is rich in archaeological ruins which predate the Pyramids of Giza. The first place I decided to visit was the Tomb of the Eagles. In 1957, a farmer happened upon this tomb on his land and immediately tried to get someone out to take a look at it. Eighteen years later, no one had come, so he decided to let archaeology students unearth these sacred remains. One of the remains unearthed was a lady they called 'granny' as she was about my age, which was elderly in the Neolithic times. We were able to see her skull and a place in her mouth where she had an abscess that may have been the cause of her death. She was a very short lady of 4'10" and her skull was incredibly tiny. In the Neolithic room, we were able to hold some of the items these people of the past would have used as tools, their pottery and their incredible jewelry. The pottery appears to have been purposely shattered and burned and the tomb sealed up. The reason for the tombs name is that each person was buried along with a certain number of eagle talons and even some with eagles. One man was buried with two eagles and 14 talons. White Tailed Eagles are not easy to come by, leading to speculation that these inventive people may have domesticated them. When Frieda, who was my guide, took me into the Mesolithic Room to show me the tools that people had been using 9,000 years ago, I must admit that I started crying. I was just so beyond excited to be experiencing these relics for myself. To get to the tomb, you walk along the cliffs by the sea, shimmy in on a wheeled wooden board and pull yourself in by a rope all by yourself. It was a very spiritual experience for me to be inside the final resting place of these people. I will never forget this moment in all of my years to come.

The next item I wanted to see was the Ring of Brognar. This stone circle is right along the water and predates Stonehenge. It happened to be Beltane when I arrived, and I did try to hold the stones and wish blessings upon my friends and family as well as the rest of the Earth. I know that someone built these stones for a purpose, and I was trying to soak up any positive energy that I could from them.

On my way to the stones, I saw the little Italian Temple that had been built by Italian prisoners on Orkney during WWII. They felt that they needed a place to worship, and they created this absolutely charming, yet ornate little temple.

The place that I really wanted to see the most was a place called Skara Brae. This is a Neolithic Village that was lived in for around 600 years. This village had compost areas, separate water cisterns and an antiquated plumbing system. The homes had stone beds and dressers, and it really just showed the ingenious ways of these people. It was the last place along the route, so when I showed up, imagine my shock to discover that they were just closing up. I begged the woman to please let me just run out and see it, that I had come all the way from America, and my eyes started to well up with tears. It was all genuine, for I would've been heartbroken not to have seen it. In the end, she gave in, and I got in free of charge and received my very own private tour!

On my way back to my campground (Yes, the girl who since the time I was five was afraid to get her fingernails dirty, or walk on uneven ground, camped!) I had heard that the St Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall had a ceramic red poppy display temporarily constructed against the building. When my Grandpa Czech passed away, we saw two rainbows in the sky at his funeral, and we all knew it was him reuniting with my Grandmother. Well, picking out Poppies with my Grandpa was one of my favorite memories of him. On my way to see the display, a beautiful rainbow appeared, and I knew it was him. Even though I am here in Scotland to get in touch with my Dad's side of the family, I knew it was him telling me he was with me. I cried all the way to the Poppy display, as I felt so happy to have him along. The red poppies at the cathedral were so beautiful, and I told the ladies there how it was all connecting to the Wizard of Oz, and they asked me if I was from Kansas City. They told me to click my heels three times and say, "There's no place like home." If I didn't have photographic evidence of these miracles, I almost wouldn't believe them myself. To me, it's a sign that I'm in the right place at the right time.

I’d now like to return to the mention of asking my Grandpa Campbell to send me a whale. I never did get to set my eyes on a whale in Scotland. Today, I was feeling a bit sad that my trip is coming to an end, and feeling quite exhausted, so I decided to take a nap before going out into Inverness. I had the most vivid dream of my life. I was standing in a cove here in Scotland, and the biggest Orca I had ever seen came swimming up. I was so excited, I ran to get a closer look and snap some pictures. Suddenly, he started leaping out of the water and the sky was filled with a spectacular firework display. The only strange part is that Chewbacca was there with me in the dream (I'm not quite sure what that was about), but needless to say, I woke up and I knew that my Grandpa Campbell sent me that dream before leaving my beloved Scotland. I always knew that he was so strong and brave that he could do anything, and he reached me from wherever he is, and I just feel it. And now I know, wishes can come true if you truly just believe. I know that I would not have been able to accomplish all that I have if I did not have all of my relatives somewhere over the rainbow, looking out for me. Also, I have survived upon the support and well wishes of all of my friends and family here in this world. My troubles have melted away like lemon drops, and I have had the most spiritual experience of my life.

There's No Place Like Home...

Holy cow!

During my last full day in Glasgow, I went outside of the city for a long drive into the Scottish countryside to see a very little known historic relic called St Mary's Chapel that I really wanted to see, and then on to Rosslyn Chapel.

It was a beautiful and sunny day, and as we were driving, I spotted some Highland cows along the road. If you know me well, you know I'm highly scared of animals, but I just had to get out and take a look. I started calling to the little brown cow in my sweetest voice, and it succumbed to the sounds of the Siren and came walking right up to me. The magnificent creature just stood there so calmly, and let me pet him. I was so excited that I actually dared to do it in the first place, and flattered myself into thinking he liked me, but maybe he just thought I had some food. On my way to St Mary's chapel, I could not stop talking about that cow, as my childlike excitement had been ignited.

St Mary's chapel is in the middle of nowhere and was once used as a cow byre. In 1636, a painted ceiling on a timber barrel vault using natural pigments and depicting the final judgement was installed by Sir William Stewart. From the outside, you would never know that there was a hidden chapel dedicated to Mary Magdalene. It's astounding to me that this hidden gem is still intact after all these years, and it was a beautiful and sacred place.

The final stop was Rosslyn Chapel, and it exceeded my expectations. In 1446, the building of the chapel had begun for the family to privately worship in. It was never fully finished, and fell partially into ruin after the death of William Sinclair, 3rd Prince of Orkney. There were several attempts made to secure the funds in order to restore this precious relic, but nothing came to fruition. When Dan Brown wrote his novel, Da Vinci Code, it became a top ten best seller and brought 176,000 visitors after the first year of its release which made it possible to restore the chapel. The underground vaults are said to hold something of great significance, but have yet to be opened. I stood on the center stone in the chapel which runs along the ley lines of the Earth. It's said that you can feel the energy from these powerful points, and I swear that I did! I just felt that considering the ties to the Mason's, who helped me to find my family, Rosslyn was a sacred space I felt drawn to see it and to complete my Scottish Spring.

As I sit here on a train to Inverness to head out to the Highlands where my family derives from, I am in deep thought and am feeling a bit of sadness about those I had to leave behind in Glasgow.  However, I look forward to connecting with the land that my ancestors walked. I hope that moving forward, I can make my family and friends proud of the person I am becoming, every day of my life.

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Where did she 'Gogh'?

I know that I've been missing for a few days and that I had every intention of updating my loved ones daily. Let's just say, the beginning of my journey started off a bit rocky, and that I've been busy ever since. As everyone knows me is aware, I can be a very clumsy girl. When I got to Scotland, I was so sick from transferring planes several times, that I could barely gather myself together. In fact, I got sick, tried to brush my teeth (but accidentally used soap) put my coat in the sink while doing so (and the water turned on) and then sprawled myself out on the grass in the middle of nowhere like a dying animal. Thank heavens the rest of the trip, so far, has not only been smooth sailing, but undeniably perfect.

I gathered with the clan on the night of arrival after gathering myself together. We all met for dinner at Fanny Trollopes, and it was so comfortable from the very start. It also felt surreal to meet all of the lovely people that I've been in contact with for the last six years. I value nothing in this world more than my family, both here and gone, and they have all helped to give me the spark of bravery that I needed in order to execute this sojourn.

While in Glasgow for three days, I had a bucket list of items that I wanted to complete, and did. One of the items on that list was the Kelvingrove Museum. I had read about the display of the hanging heads of human expression, and wanted to stare up at them until my neck couldn't take it anymore. I had read a book once about Vincent Van Gogh, and really have felt an affinity for him ever since, and was elated to see his paintings for the first time in my life. To be able to be up close and personal with his work was truly a joy for me, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could truly marvel at something. In fact, my entire stay in the city of Glasgow has been full of marvels.

Here is a brief synopsis of what I was up to while in Glasgow: I attended the underground concert of a talented Scottish band called Dropkick, and had an amazing time. I ate blood pudding, haggis, fish & chips, ran all around the city, soaked up the architecture, and met such really wonderful people and formed bonds and friendships that will remain in my heart and memories forever.

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The Origin of a Journey

Six years ago, I joined ancestry.com to start some genealogical work for my grandma Campbell.

One common story she and others told was so interesting and tragic that I just had to find out what happened. Peter Campbell was my great-grandfather's big brother. During WWI, he was taken to a Scottish prison camp as a conscientious objector, where he later perished. I searched and searched to no avail for the name of the prison camp he was confined to.

Knowing several of my family members had Masonic ties, I wrote to the Grand Lodge of Scotland, looking for leads. One kind lodge member wrote back and referred me to the Lodge of St. Kilda, which was closer to the Isle of Skye where my family came from. A second gentleman even located a few of my existing Campbell relatives, some of whom still live in the ancestral homes of my family. 

Finally, the day after I booked my trip to Scotland, I found the names of two prisons Peter was confined to, along with so much more of the story. A distant relative there had done some family genealogy and knew, along with the prison names, the dates he was at each, ACTUAL LETTERS written by Peter to his dear sister, and the location of his final resting place. 

The timing was uncanny and providential—a simple message telling me I am going to the right place at the right time.

Uncovering the people of my past has revealed many ways in which their life events, whether big or small, epic or insignificant, have shaped my own life and identity. Had Peter not objected to war, he may or may not have enjoyed a longer life. But more importantly, the impact his consequent imprisonment and death had on his family was so profound that it became the single most life changing event of those who remained. If not for Peter’s sacrifice, my family wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t be on my way to Scotland this week.

I’m excited to visit new relatives who have "gathered the clan,” and welcomed me in the warmest, friendliest manner; and I’m humbled to say goodbye to past relatives who worked hard and survived a great deal, so that I, and others in my family could enjoy the good lives we have.

What began as my small foray into family history is about to be “Summer’s Spring in Scotland,” reconnecting to distant Campbell family ties, and the stories they left behind.