Dearest Meredith – We have never met. We may never meet. All that I know about you is that you are an American of the Scots diaspora who came home and paid homage at the place of our routing and falling. Your tweet spoke volumes to me about our shared past and the future hope of our ancestral home. Upon Cullonden at the closing of the ’45 Rebellion another story was possible, an alternative history that never was to be. Many things would have been different, but even this would have been the continuation of a monarchy with ambitions for a unity of two kingdoms. It is so easy to romanticise our story, and so often we do, but in re-telling it – in remembering it – we are giving voice to a dissatisfaction, a yearning for our own nation to be our own once again. This Britain that butchered the flower of Scotland’s pride has taken our people where we did not wish to go, and even still we are kept in the chains of that murderous union. Our children have been worked to the bone for the profit of a foreigner, our lassies starved in slums and tenements to keep skin and bone together, and our lads have been bled under a union flag from the Transvaal to Flanders.
Me and my clan marker on Culloden Moor today. It is because of this battle that my family is American. Very moving. http://t.co/ipRsyuTeCP—
Meredith McBride (@Lifeasthatmom) May 02, 2015
When you were home you would have met with a restless nation, a Scotland standing under a new 45 banner – the insignia of yet another defeat. You may have been aware that this restlessness – this yearning to be free – was not defeated as your fathers and mothers were on Culloden Field. No. Nothing has been defeated. Once again all that the union has gained for itself is a little more time. Your image, Meredith, has reminded me of all the reasons I desire to see our home unshackled from the fetters of London and set free once more into the community of free peoples. It wasn’t an image of the past, but a wonderful vision of an alternative future. Your fathers and mothers departed their home – for good or for ill – and built for themselves a whole new nation. Of your past reality, of your fathers and mothers’ hard-earned future I am deeply envious. Spare a thought for us then as we continue the work of regaining the nation so many of us were forced to flee. In not so long a time now we will be a nation again, and no longer London’s province. When that day comes I would like to welcome you home again – when we’ve finished the business put on hold those two-hundred and sixy-nine years ago. So haste ye back.