Brian Wall | Introduction
My family has a rich history and we are very proud of our forbearers and our heritage. Our lines tie all the way back into English, French and mostly Scottish royalty. And for that reason, Scottish culture and history has almost always been a love of my family. You are probably now wondering how this ties in with my story.
Well, let's see. It all started years ago, at the very beginning of my junior year in high school. I was sitting in a local restaurant with my family awaiting our order. I was thinking of the high school homecoming dance that was going to take place in only a few days, which was the obvious topic of conversation over the table.
"So what are you going to wear to the dance?" My mother asked me. "It's a formal dance right? Are you going to rent a tux?" So typical of a mother to think of that sort of thing.
"Um, I don't know. I haven't really thought about it." Why would I think about something like that? Honestly.
"Haven't thought about it? It's only three days away.”
“Well, I thought I would just wear my suit.” I replied. I didn’t think that what I wore was very important. I wouldn’t even remember in a few years anyways. So I thought.
Somehow, and I can’t remember the details exactly, my mother came up with the idea that I should wear a kilt to the homecoming dance. She mentioned that she remembers seeing a Scottish themed store in Salt Lake that rented out formal kilts. Finally, my family convinced me to do it.
I felt instantly that this could be a huge risk. Either I would become the laughing stock of the entire school and commit social suicide, or something good would come out of it. I don’t know why I decided to take that risk, but I did.
So the day of homecoming came around, and I prepared myself for the inevitable. As I went to pick my date up, thoughts were racing through my mind. Had I made the right decision? What could be the consequences of this? Perhaps this night was a turning point in my life?
Honestly I can’t say that my decision had any large effect on my life, but I did have a lot of fun. My date absolutely loved it, as well as many other people at the dance. I think there were more girls asking me to dance than I was asking myself. Of course, that had more to do with the kilt than me, I know. Even at the end of several songs, the girls I had danced with would say, “Now I can say that I have danced with a man in a kilt.” You know, most of those girls never really talked to me after that. I felt that they were dancing with the kilt rather than with me. But to a sixteen year old boy, details like that don’t really matter. I didn’t care. My risk had paid off.
“D’you know why they call i’ a kilt? ‘Cause that’s wha’ I did t’ the last man that called i’ a dress. I kilt’ him.”
Well, let's see. It all started years ago, at the very beginning of my junior year in high school. I was sitting in a local restaurant with my family awaiting our order. I was thinking of the high school homecoming dance that was going to take place in only a few days, which was the obvious topic of conversation over the table.
"So what are you going to wear to the dance?" My mother asked me. "It's a formal dance right? Are you going to rent a tux?" So typical of a mother to think of that sort of thing.
"Um, I don't know. I haven't really thought about it." Why would I think about something like that? Honestly.
"Haven't thought about it? It's only three days away.”
“Well, I thought I would just wear my suit.” I replied. I didn’t think that what I wore was very important. I wouldn’t even remember in a few years anyways. So I thought.
Somehow, and I can’t remember the details exactly, my mother came up with the idea that I should wear a kilt to the homecoming dance. She mentioned that she remembers seeing a Scottish themed store in Salt Lake that rented out formal kilts. Finally, my family convinced me to do it.
I felt instantly that this could be a huge risk. Either I would become the laughing stock of the entire school and commit social suicide, or something good would come out of it. I don’t know why I decided to take that risk, but I did.
So the day of homecoming came around, and I prepared myself for the inevitable. As I went to pick my date up, thoughts were racing through my mind. Had I made the right decision? What could be the consequences of this? Perhaps this night was a turning point in my life?
Honestly I can’t say that my decision had any large effect on my life, but I did have a lot of fun. My date absolutely loved it, as well as many other people at the dance. I think there were more girls asking me to dance than I was asking myself. Of course, that had more to do with the kilt than me, I know. Even at the end of several songs, the girls I had danced with would say, “Now I can say that I have danced with a man in a kilt.” You know, most of those girls never really talked to me after that. I felt that they were dancing with the kilt rather than with me. But to a sixteen year old boy, details like that don’t really matter. I didn’t care. My risk had paid off.
“D’you know why they call i’ a kilt? ‘Cause that’s wha’ I did t’ the last man that called i’ a dress. I kilt’ him.”
Labels: Brian Wall, interesting thing, introduction
posted by BRIAN WALL | 3:08 PM
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