July 28th, 1990
We moved from Scotland to England almost nine years ago, after dad went to work one morning, only to find Chrysler car company was closing its doors later that day, thereby putting at least five thousand, mostly men, out of work.
With an already depressed market in that part of Scotland, my dad left for England the very next morning, where he stayed with his oldest friend Harry, his wife and two daughters. In a new town called Milton Keynes, it didn’t take dad long to find employment and start searching for our new home.
My Granda, James McGarr, fathered fifteen children with his wife Mary, the woman he lovingly referred to as; “The only lassie I’ve ever loved.” Together, they mourned the loss of five infants and raised ten children in a house with a total of three rooms and an outside toilet.
Granda never left Scotland, his birth country. He never flew on an airplane. He never got to watch the sun come up in Los Angeles or shake his head in wonder at the pyramids in Egypt. He never set foot on another continent and he won’t dance at my wedding.
But he was loved.