INTRODUCTION:  My friend John Brownlee, in traveling from his native Scotland (Hamilton, Scotland, no less!) to America (Hamilton, AL to be exact!), From time to time writes me a few lines and I will pass them along to you.  Some of his observations are about his home and Scotland and some are about his take on the sites and things he sees in America.

John and his daughter Kelly traveled about his native Scotland this summer and comes and goes in Hamilton, Alabama and Marion County from time to time.
You'll find his stories interesting, I'm sure. If you meet him on the street, he's almost sure to speak to you and you can't miss his 'Scottish Brogue'. He never meets a stranger....sounds almost Southern doesn't he?.....

Oh, by the way, you'll see him in his Kilt sometimes when he's promoting his Scottish business, 'Scotland USA'.....Or his local Hamilton Bed & Breakfast....At least that's what I hear...If you see him, stop and talk to him...He loves to 'blether' as he calls chatting about any little thing...

*NOTE!  John left a bunch of Scottish travel brochures in the Hamilton Library. Ask the friendly Clyde Nix staff where they are located!

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   JOHN BROWNLEE

INTRODUCTION FROM JOHN BROWNLEE:

          I was at the writing group with Kelly last night. I copied mine for you, meant to get Kelly's too. I will send them to you
soon if she lets me. See what you make of them. (See Kelly's Story Below)
          Kelly told me a couple of days ago that their "homework" was Nature as a poem. hmmm. Then at the midway point
we do a writing thing. Someone suggests a topic. Darn. Kelly said St Nicholas. So you can blame her.

Below, you will find three stories,

 "Nature" and "St. Nicholas" by John

and "St. Nicholas" by Kelly
 

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"Nature" By John

Almost a poem by John Brownlee

First bit is My nature

Older and grumpier every year

I see my daughter,

Shed a tear.

Second bit is Alabama weather

Happy in the sunshine looking for a breeze

Grass now yellow, dry as tinder

Hair soaking with perspiration

Looking for shade from the leaves and the trees.

People used to pick cotton by hand

Machines leave a lot on the bush, Volunteers!

And then it rains, like a waterfall

Stair rods are as nothing. The pond that looks

as if it would take a month to fill is overflowing in the morning.


 

Third bit is Scotland

Trees for miles and along comes autumn, fall.

From a fraction of the rainbow suddenly the leaves fill the spectrum.

It makes a long drive a joy. Then grey arrives

Out of the window, grey and darker grey.

But have you seen a Scottish Highland Glen. A hundred

glens in half an hour and I never moved.
 

Last bit is wondrous nature

I read once.

A man had died. So where is this wonderful heaven?

And God looked straight back.

Did you never look around back there?


...........................................................................
 

"St Nicholas" By John

Well read it. The other people, 4 women and Kelly, did happy Christmas recollections and Kelly did an imaginative
weird story regarding why he might be a saint.
Thoughts by John Brownlee

          I have become jaded with it all. Yes I love to receive but, well, commercialism.

          Too much enlightenment on the matter on the T.V, too much political correctness standing in the way of a “Christian
Christmas” nativity and all.

          You go to town and everyone wants to sell sell sell. But, away from the family, in groups at work or at school. Well
one can “DO” Christmas but where does it lye now? I heard a T.V. program last night. It was a modern Jewish
family and the dad said the rabbi was setting up the Christmas party. It was a throwaway line. It illuminates
something of a modern approach.

          Perhaps the fact of things becoming non-secular is the real victory of Christmas. After all we, most of us,
have some awareness of the bible story. But with Miracle on 34th St, Black and White and Colour, most years I feel
we all understand it is a time to share, to be generous, to love ones fellow man. If you can afford some of the shop
stuff well and good but it is “fellowship” that is required. I think the suicides that peak at this time of year are across
all religions and the non-religious too. Those concerned feel their loss more and it drives many to suicide. Odd that
such a hopeful message held as an annual event can have this opposite and extreme effect.

          What to do! No easy answer. Will the powers that be slowly ban Christmas? Is it so far away? Consider
some of the things that have happened in the name of political correctness.

          The message for me? Well I try to be nice to people all year, perhaps Christmas is a time to make extra
efforts to cut down the strange suffering at that time of year. To me there is no easy answer to this conundrum.

"St. Nicholas" by Kelly

By Kelly Brownlee

Scotland

Saint Nicholas is a Saint. Do you wonder ever why he became a Saint? Must have done something holy, let’s presume. I wonder what holy thing he did…

The curtains pulled open and out came Mirtel. She was a little browny, green grey thing and if the cook had seen her she’d have been a Black Death rat from the ships (with copper bottoms). Mirtel sprang lithely on her feet down to the stone flags where she had a chance meeting with Humphrey the beetle. Humphrey gave her an oblique message from the deity King that Mirtel was trying to visit, but always got interrupted. He said or scuttled in beetle language that the King was in great pain and did not know what to do. The King needed Mirtel. Now Humphrey was a black beetle and people never saw him in time so Mirtel thought that what he said was a little dubious. Still Mirtel was a good sort with a ribbon near her ear that was satiny red, (all Mirtels can have them) and little blue stones for eyes and a yellow button for a nose as well as a cherry apron. (The King dipped it in cherries because he said it smelt funny) So, anyway Mirtel ran away as a loyal servant to the King.

It was a very big Kingly palace and it took her a long time to rampage through the kitchens before even reaching the pacing corridors full of hunting tapestries and cruelly stuffed bears. She avoided the cook. When Mirtel got to the Kings bedroom door she took a deep breath almost frantic with worry, yet she was sensible and prepared herself instead for his kingliness and her curtsey. She squeezed through a wee gap filled with the rowdiest of dust bugs and grey matter and crumbs, wishing she herself had not had so many mince pies. There was he King, cowering, childishly beneath a too thick and opulent duvet.

“Oh, do grow up, you eejit!” She brought him back to reality. She smiled kindly and leapt adeptly onto the bedcovers (and not up any of the four posts, this she prided herself on). “Dear Mirtel save me” gulped the girly king from the muffling of his comfort blanky. “Whatever is the matter?” Mirtel asked exasperated. With a knowing nurses smile, “It’s the Nicholas, a knight or soldier who wants something of me… he had the chance to parry a blow” jumbled the strong voice of the girly King. “Did he save your life?” gasped Mirtel, a merry twinkle in her eye. How heavenly she thought. Or how saintly, if everything went to plan and not to pot.

 

For those who are interested, I left a bunch of Scottish travel brochures in the (Hamilton, AL) Library. Ask the friendly Clyde Nix staff where they are located? 

JOHN  HAS RETURNED FROM SCOTLAND AND HE'S GIVEN US PICTURES OF HAMILTON, SCOTLAND.  I WILL GET SOME OF THEM ON AS SOON AS POSSIBLE....jmays@49countynews.net

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