When I was little, really little, like 6 or 7, our whole family piled up into our old 1960-something white family van and we went to stay with my Aunt Mary for the Thanksgiving holiday. My Aunt lived in a ginormous log cabin deep in the woods. The remote location removed from any type of civilization was Lake Arrowhead, CA. We had a tradition of spending Thanksgiving with my mom’s side of the family, and we were so excited to go play with our cousins, who happened to all be close to our same age (meaning my older brother had someone else to assist him in terrifying me).
After the festivities, all us kids made our way to our rooms for the night. I was bunking in with my cousin, Leslie. While we were playing, or maybe even fighting over some toys (we were really good at that), my older brother, Tim, and Cousin Chad came into the room to tell us that they had heard some noises outside. They continued to inform us that when they had looked out the window, they had seen a man in the tree playing bagpipes. I was scared to death! I thought for sure he was going to break into the house and play us to death! The next morning, Tim and Chad continued with the story and took us out to see the footprints the scary Scottish man had left behind.
So, there you have it. The reason why I am not particularly fond of bagpipes. I knew you were dying to know.
*** If you know this musician, please don’t tell him I was defacing his picture on my blog. I just picked him randomly off google. I would hate for him to get angry and come play outside my window at night.
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