Introduction

“Out of my country and myself I go,” sings the old poet. Thus begins “The Amateur Emigrant,” Robert Louis Stevenson’s travel book about his journey from Scotland to California. When we travel abroad we sometimes do more than go beyond geographical borders: we leave our own interior world. 

During the final months of my stay in Scotland, I decided to chronicle some of my reflections about the five years that I have lived here. I began by writing down thoughts and observations culled out of this experience. Over time, I saw that my remembrances fell into several broad categories that concerned subjects such as what I saw, who I met, and what I learned. I have called this collection “Edinburgh: The Long Goodbye” because I started writing it months before my time of departure. It is not a traditional narrative that has a beginning, middle, and an end. Rather, I have chosen memories, impressions, and particular people that stood out to me. I was energized by an awareness that I didn’t have long before I left and that this time would pass quickly. It also seemed important to record my thoughts while I was still in Scotland.

Teresa and I had moved to Edinburgh in the late summer of 2013 so that she could pursue a PhD at the University of Edinburgh, New College. This was a decision fraught with risk. I had been practicing law for over 25 years, and Teresa had worked in a large established church for nearly as long. Over time, however, Teresa had developed an interest in a particular section of Paul’s famous epistle to the Romans and wished to seek a postgraduate degree on this topic. I wanted to support her in this pursuit.

That said, we both had some very real concerns about what our decision would mean for us, both in the long and short-term. For starters, what about our careers? Would they suffer because of our move? Would we be able to make friends in Scotland? How would we adapt to living in a new country? And what about the weather? How successfully could a native Floridian like me adapt to the long Scottish winters? (Not very well, as I was to learn.)

My paternal Scottish ancestors had moved to the United States from the Isle of Skye in the early nineteenth century. Although my dad had spoken to me about Skye during my youth, I knew very little about it, and it was not until I was around 50 years of age that I traveled there for a visit. The circumstances that led to this journey are worth a bit of explanation because they are part of the story behind how I eventually moved to Scotland. It is a tale threaded together by Japan, Talisker whiskey, and the Isle of Skye. 

Tokyo and Talisker Whisky

In the spring of 2002, I took an eight-month sabbatical from my law practice to play guitar and sing at a Japanese theme park named Tokyo Disney Sea. (Ironically, Teresa had sung at Tokyo Disneyland long before she met me, but that is another story.) Living in Japan was an astonishing experience, and it came about rather abruptly following an audition at Disney World in Orlando that I had done on a bit of a lark. The audition, which I attended with an amazing musician and friend named Alan Stowell, ceased rather abruptly after we had  performed a couple of songs for Disney reps who asked us if we would like to live in Japan for 8 months and play music. Because this was a big decision, I asked for a few days to think everything over. The Disney reps said that was fine, but as I drove home that day I realized that there were just too many things for me to straighten out before I left for Tokyo on such short notice. My initial impulse was to take a later contract that would begin in eight months. However, in the coming days, I began to feel very strongly that there would never really be a perfect time to leave. I called back and accepted the earlier gig that was set to start in the spring. I rented my house, put my possessions in storage, and left for Japan.  

Tokyo amazed me, and I soon found that I had a pretty full dance card in terms of a social network. I remember feeling that there was a lot of living yet before me, and I distinctly recall experiencing unexpected moments of bliss shortly after I arrived in Japan. However, when the fall of 2002 rolled around, I realized that I could not watch any college football games in Tokyo. My friends from the UK will not understand this, I know. But in the United States, especially the Deep South, American college football is part of the fabric of life. I searched the internet and found that my university, Florida State University, had an alumni association (“gakubatsu,” in Japanese) with a chapter in Tokyo. FSU would mail the chapter videotapes of the previous week’s football games, and a get together would be arranged at which alums would watch them. This all sounded good to me, and so it was with great excitement that I showed up on my day off to view the Seminole’s first fall football game. For American college football fans, the beginning of a new season is a bit like love on the bloom. It is filled with promise and hope. They would understand my disappointment when I arrived at the venue and learned that I had come on the wrong day.

But this mistake would turn out to be fortuitous. When I noticed that a single malt whisky bar was close by, I walked over to have a drink.  In those days it was pretty easy in Japan to strike up a conversation with a Japanese person, and before long, an older gentleman started buying me drams. After he had ordered a round of particularly delightful pour, I asked the bartender to bring me the bottle. The distillery turned out to be Talisker. Many of my malt mates will know that Talisker is distilled on the Isle of Skye.  I knew it too, but I was surprised to learn that the distillery was begun by 2 brothers from the MacAskill family. To quote Stevenson again, “I am the least superstitious of men; but the hand of Providence is here displayed too openly not to be remarked.” I felt very strongly that I was being led to Scotland, and it wasn’t too long after I got back to the United States that I booked a trip to Skye.

Skye

In 2004, I flew to Skye for a summer music festival that was being held at the college there, Sabhal Mòr Ostaig. One memory from the night of my arrival stands out in my mind. It was animated by three things that I experienced more or less simultaneously: traditional Gaelic songs, vocal harmony, and again, Talisker whisky. Talisker distillery was holding a tasting that night at the school, and the air was heavy with its smoky salinity. 

A noted traditional singer, Mary Ann Kennedy, was doing a vocal workshop on campus, and her students were in attendance at a concert that night featuring Cliar, a musical group in which Mary Ann was a member. Cliar was fully in control that evening, but they reached their peak with a song called “Filoro,” which they sang Gaelic. Like many traditional Scottish songs, “Filoro” contains a melody of soul-crushing beauty. But I was unprepared for the effect that its chorus would have on me:

Filoro, filoro, filoro hug eile

Filoro, filoro, filoro hug eile

Air fail ili o agus ho ro hug eile

Chan fhaigh mi cadal sàmhach

Roughly translated, those last two lines mean “I will not sleep soundly my love, if we are not reconciled.” When Cliar sang these words, the attendees of Mary Ann’s workshop burst into harmony all around me. The smell of Talisker that was wafting through the air, the heartbreaking gloriousness of hearing “Filoro” sung in Gaelic, and the experience of being bathed in vocal harmony was just too much. I fell in love with Scotland in a big, big way. Over the coming years I was to travel there whenever I could scrape together enough money, and I actually performed at the Celtic Connections festival in Glasgow with my dear friends Lamont and Jessica Goff in 2006. 

When Teresa and became engaged in 2007, she knew fully well how I felt about Scotland. We were actually married at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig where I had stayed during my first visit, and we would end up spending part of our honeymoon in Edinburgh. (Here again, Talisker whisky figures into my story: we paid for our flat rental in Edinburgh with a bottle of it.). And so, by the time Teresa decided to pursue a PhD in 2011 and mentioned studying at the University of Edinburgh, there were already many factors that were pointing toward Scotland. 

Leaving Florida

When Teresa was eventually accepted at the University of Edinburgh, we found ourselves faced with the reality that we only had four months to get ready to leave for Scotland. That did not give us much time to prepare our home for renting or get rid of the excess junk we had accumulated over the years. We also had to put into storage everything that we were unable to sell or give away. Despite our best efforts, we never would have been able to complete all of the tasks necessary to leave without the help of Teresa’s parents and my old pal, Gary Lloyd. In August 2013, Teresa and I rode to the airport with her parents and my daughter Katie. After tearful goodbyes, we boarded a plane for Scotland.