hear their voices quite clearly.
“What do you think Fiona will do?” asked Grandma. “I feel sorry for the poor lass, having to make a difficult choice like this.”
I put the last dinner plate gently in the dishwasher and tried not to make any noise as I scoured the frying pan.
“We'd better let her go to her pa's talk,” Grandpa saidgruffly. “We'll try to find another dancer. Someone in the senior group might know a likely youngster hereabouts.”
“We can't let Fiona's pretty costume go to waste,” said Grandma. “Such a lot of work her other grandma put into it.”
“That kilt I brought is going to waste!” said Grandpa. Next to me, Ron froze as he was emptying coffee grounds into the garbage can.
“Our laddie hasn't shown the least interest in wearing a kilt,” continued Grandpa. “He cares only about kung fu and all those Asian martial arts. He wants nothing to do with his Scottish ancestors!”
“That's not true, Alec,” protested Grandma. “He loved the Highland Games! And remember the times when you held him on your lap and told stories about heroes like William Wallace and Robert the Bruce? He never could get enough of those tales, and he kept coming back for more.”
“And when was the last time I held the boy on my lap?” demanded Grandpa.
I saw Ron squirm with embarrassment. He didn't want a reminder of the days when he had been a little kid sitting on someone's lap. But I suspect that he was uncomfortablefor another reason. Grandpa MacMurray was right. It had been a while since Ron had shown any interest in Scottish history and culture. For that matter, I was pretty ignorant of Scottish things myself.
Mom doesn't talk much about culture or history. In fact I don't remember hearing her show any interest in history—any kind of history. Instead, she tries to encourage our interest in science and mathematics. If I ask her who the Jacobites were, she'll tell me to go look them up in the encyclopedia. But if I ask her about imaginary numbers or black holes, she'll tell me about them in detail, a lot more detail than I need.
Dad is different. He's always ready to fill us in about Chinese history or culture. Since he is a great storyteller, he makes it sound fascinating. That's why both Ron and I wound up knowing a lot more about China than about Scotland.
I've gotten into the habit of saying that I'm half and half, meaning half white, half Asian. But in appearance I was 30%/70%, and Ron 75%/25%. Culturally we aren't half and half, either. We both know much more about our Chinese half than our Scottish half. Grandpa and Grandmaweren't hurt just because Ron refused to try on the kilt. They must have been really bothered about our ignorance of Scottish culture.
“The dancers will be coming any minute now, Alec,” I heard Grandma MacMurray say. “We'd better go in and make ready the living room. But what are we to do about the missing dancer?”
The back door opened and Grandpa and Grandma came into the kitchen. Then Ron did something that left me speechless. He walked up to Grandpa and said, “Do you think it's too late for me to join the Scottish dancers?”
W ith Grandpa's help, Ron put on his new kilt. It fit him perfectly, as we all knew it would, since he was the same height as I was. Ron made a face when Grandpa hung the purse, or sporran, from his belt, but he didn't mind the Balmoral cap so much. It looked just right on his red hair—his naturally red hair.
When Ron had the whole outfit on, Grandpa stepped back and beamed at him. “There's my …”
Grandpa had started to say “wee laddie.” I even saw him round his lips for the word “wee,” but he stopped himself just in time and ended with “laddie.”
Grandpa decided Ron needed some encouragement. “You know, of course, that dancing is always one of the athletic events of the Highland Games?”
When we went to the Highland Games in Vancouver, Ron didn't see any of the dancing. He spent the whole time
“What do you think Fiona will do?” asked Grandma. “I feel sorry for the poor lass, having to make a difficult choice like this.”
I put the last dinner plate gently in the dishwasher and tried not to make any noise as I scoured the frying pan.
“We'd better let her go to her pa's talk,” Grandpa saidgruffly. “We'll try to find another dancer. Someone in the senior group might know a likely youngster hereabouts.”
“We can't let Fiona's pretty costume go to waste,” said Grandma. “Such a lot of work her other grandma put into it.”
“That kilt I brought is going to waste!” said Grandpa. Next to me, Ron froze as he was emptying coffee grounds into the garbage can.
“Our laddie hasn't shown the least interest in wearing a kilt,” continued Grandpa. “He cares only about kung fu and all those Asian martial arts. He wants nothing to do with his Scottish ancestors!”
“That's not true, Alec,” protested Grandma. “He loved the Highland Games! And remember the times when you held him on your lap and told stories about heroes like William Wallace and Robert the Bruce? He never could get enough of those tales, and he kept coming back for more.”
“And when was the last time I held the boy on my lap?” demanded Grandpa.
I saw Ron squirm with embarrassment. He didn't want a reminder of the days when he had been a little kid sitting on someone's lap. But I suspect that he was uncomfortablefor another reason. Grandpa MacMurray was right. It had been a while since Ron had shown any interest in Scottish history and culture. For that matter, I was pretty ignorant of Scottish things myself.
Mom doesn't talk much about culture or history. In fact I don't remember hearing her show any interest in history—any kind of history. Instead, she tries to encourage our interest in science and mathematics. If I ask her who the Jacobites were, she'll tell me to go look them up in the encyclopedia. But if I ask her about imaginary numbers or black holes, she'll tell me about them in detail, a lot more detail than I need.
Dad is different. He's always ready to fill us in about Chinese history or culture. Since he is a great storyteller, he makes it sound fascinating. That's why both Ron and I wound up knowing a lot more about China than about Scotland.
I've gotten into the habit of saying that I'm half and half, meaning half white, half Asian. But in appearance I was 30%/70%, and Ron 75%/25%. Culturally we aren't half and half, either. We both know much more about our Chinese half than our Scottish half. Grandpa and Grandmaweren't hurt just because Ron refused to try on the kilt. They must have been really bothered about our ignorance of Scottish culture.
“The dancers will be coming any minute now, Alec,” I heard Grandma MacMurray say. “We'd better go in and make ready the living room. But what are we to do about the missing dancer?”
The back door opened and Grandpa and Grandma came into the kitchen. Then Ron did something that left me speechless. He walked up to Grandpa and said, “Do you think it's too late for me to join the Scottish dancers?”
W ith Grandpa's help, Ron put on his new kilt. It fit him perfectly, as we all knew it would, since he was the same height as I was. Ron made a face when Grandpa hung the purse, or sporran, from his belt, but he didn't mind the Balmoral cap so much. It looked just right on his red hair—his naturally red hair.
When Ron had the whole outfit on, Grandpa stepped back and beamed at him. “There's my …”
Grandpa had started to say “wee laddie.” I even saw him round his lips for the word “wee,” but he stopped himself just in time and ended with “laddie.”
Grandpa decided Ron needed some encouragement. “You know, of course, that dancing is always one of the athletic events of the Highland Games?”
When we went to the Highland Games in Vancouver, Ron didn't see any of the dancing. He spent the whole time
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