I had a Scottish nurse when I was a baby. She called me her “wee little treasure” and gave me dolls that said, “Frae Bonnie Scotland” on them. Her name was Jean James but I called her Jean-Jean. I loved the way she spoke and the way she cared for me and my brother. Because of her, I always dreamed of going to Scotland. It seemed so romantic and fit perfectly with my interests in Tudor England, given the connection with Mary, Queen of Scots and Elizabeth I.

Exactly three years ago at this time we took a very fancy golf cruise to Ireland and Scotland. I don’t play golf at all, but never mind that, there was wonderful touring for those dozen of us who didn’t golf and we formed a close bond. Of course Scotland is where golf was invented and has some of the most famous and difficult courses in the world. We sailed on the Sea Cloud II, a larger, luxurious reproduction of the original yacht, built by E. F Hutton for his wife, Marjorie Merriweather Post. There were 79 passengers with a crew of 65. We felt quite pampered.

We boarded in Dublin, after our group saw the Book of Kells and continued on to Belfast, seeing where the Titanic was built and the memorial to those who lost their lives. Then on to Antrim along the rugged coast where we hiked. A day spent at sea, the high point included a wonderful demonstration of the crew setting the sails as the captain explained the name and use of each. The British Open was in full swing on this day and was picked up on satellite in the lounge during the day, so many watched that. We were allowed to tour the entire ship including the engine room. We mostly sailed under power, as we had tight schedules each day and the tour was run like clock-work.

We arrived in the Scottish Highlands the next morning and were greeted by a lone piper. I was so excited, I videotaped his performance. While the majority of the group went off to play a challenging golf course, we few ladies went to the Inverness Highland Games. We saw a lovely demonstration of Highland dancing, wandered around the equivalent of a state fair, saw some very rough men in orange-hued kilts. I started to speak to them until I noticed all the curse words on their tee-shirts, realized they were drunk and from the Netherlands. These guys took caber-tossing seriously! Our group decided to shop in town.

Over the next several days, the ship would go from port to port while we slept and we would tour during the day, seeing incredible estates and country towns. One notable estate was the ancestral home of the Sutherland clan. The gardens were magnificent, the carpet was their clan tartan, photos of the royal family in silver frames were sprinkled around the rooms. We had a private luncheon in a large room of salmon, caught on the estate. I started having salmon at every breakfast. There is nothing like salmon from Scotland! In the afternoon, we had the most fantastic exhibition of falconry, as wild birds with huge wing spans swooping overhead.

Our last day was spent in St. Andrews, the birthplace of golf. We saw the university. Our guide pointed out the apartment that Prince William and Kate Middleton had shared as undergrads. We saw Old Tom Morris’s grave. He laid out the St. Andrews golf course and made many improvements to the game, as did his son “Young Tom” Morris, who is buried beside him. Baby Prince George was born that day, and we were in the spot where his parents had met and wooed. How perfect. We spent the night in a room over-looking St. Andrews, the most famous, oldest golf course in the world, though our tour didn’t play it. Still, Dan and I walked part of it and looked at some of the famous sites as the sun set. I later learned that the famous running scene in “Chariots of Fire” had been shot on the shore just beyond the course. The place has romance about it.

grave of Old Tom Morris

On our own, Dan and I spent a few extra days touring Edinburgh, as I wanted to see everything I could that had to do with Mary, Queen of Scots. We visited Holyrood House Palace, still a functioning home to the Queen when she comes to Scotland, and Edinburgh Castle. We walked the “Royal Mile” and visited other museums. We soaked it all in, as I do not know if I will ever return. One museum had an exhibit devoted to Mary, Queen of Scots and included the famous “Armada” portrait of Elizabeth I. I couldn’t believe that I was seeing it in person, as I’ve seen it so many times in so many of the biographies I’ve read of her.

Scotland did not disappoint and the trip lived up to all my expectations. It may be golf mecca, but it had all the charm and history that I sought as well.

My sister and I might not have a relationship you can write a great story about, but I bet we'd both read that book!
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“Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters.” This 1954 Irving Berlin song was sung by Rosemary Clooney in the movie White Christmas, and my sisters and I learned to sing it at an early age. And we are devoted, it’s not just a song lyric. I feel incredibly lucky to have my two sisters. As I write this, I have just returned from a weeklong family reunion, and am still basking in the glow of it. Apparently it is rare for extended families to get together for a week every year and all get along, but we have been doing it for at least 30 years. Certainly in childhood the three of us weren’t always so close, but as adults we have a very strong bond. Even though we live in three different parts of the country – New York, Colorado, and California – we keep in close touch by phone, email, and facebook, and see each other at least once a year, if not more often.

They were seven and five when I was born, both in elementary school already, and had a pretty good rhythm established between them. Being so much younger had some advantages when I was very little – they liked to teach me things, so I was reading and writing and counting when I was three or four – but it was sometimes frustrating as I got older, because I wanted to tag along with them and their friends. This was not that appealing to them when I was around 10 and they were 15 and 17. I couldn’t understand why they didn’t want me to be part of their group. I did get to entertain the boys who came over to pick them up for dates, since the customs of the time dictated that the girl was never supposed to be ready when the boy arrived at her house. As a result, I was pretty comfortable chatting with older boys, and I’m sure I had crushes on some of them.

We are all musical, and when we are together we are usually singing. Like Betsy and her brother, we all went to National Music Camp in Interlochen, Michigan, but my first year was their last. They were in High School Division and I was in Junior, so we barely saw each other except when my parents came to visit, but at least I had two chaperones for the long flight from New Jersey to Michigan. I continued to go to NMC for two more years without them, but that first year was the best.

By the time I was in high school, they were both off at college, and both of them married during college, so I had the benefits of being an only child for those years. I was going to high school in another town about 20 minutes away, and my mother was always available to drive me to and from school, to classmates’ houses, to parties and dances, or whatever I needed. I think my sisters thought I was terribly spoiled, but they were only watching from afar as they started their own adult lives.

My oldest sister went to Radcliffe, and so I decided I wanted to go there too. I even requested to live in the same dorm she had lived in. (As an aside, the 10 years between when she started in 1962 and when I graduated in 1972 were times of such phenomenal change that when we compare our college experiences, it is as if we had been at different schools.) We only discovered recently that we took some of the same courses. In retrospect I realize that I should have asked her advice about courses, but it didn’t occur to me at the time. After college she went to law school, and that probably influenced my decision to become a lawyer as well. While she was at Georgetown Law School I lived with her and her husband for two summers, the first year working for the McCarthy for President campaign, and the second year for Planned Parenthood at their national headquarters. It was great to have the experience of being independent of my parents, and yet having my sister and brother-in-law to rely on if I needed them.

My middle sister went to a different college and had a different career path. She probably wasn’t as influential on me in those college and law school years, although I did take my first trip to Europe with her and her husband, during winter vacation of my sophomore year of college. However, her huge impact on me came in May of my last year of law school when she had a baby, the first baby in our family in 25 years (since me). I had never been at all interested in babies, and didn’t think I wanted to have any. But that fall, when the baby was 4 months old, they had a gap in their childcare arrangements, and I was unemployed and awaiting bar results, so I went to stay with them in Colorado to take care of my niece while they both went to work. I fell in love with that baby! I had never experienced anything like the intensity of emotion I felt for this little creature. I felt like a child who had seen someone else’s amazing new toy, and I wanted one too! It was because of my sister’s baby that I decided to have children, and I have told my kids many times that they owe their existence to their cousin!

Fast forward thirty-some years, and my middle sister invited me to go with her on a yoga retreat in Mexico led by her Colorado yoga teacher. We stayed together in a casita, did yoga twice a day, went to the beach, and had a fabulous time. It was the first time we had spent a significant amount of time alone together since we were kids, and it made us feel really connected to each other. We hope to do it again when our schedules allow. My oldest sister doesn’t do yoga, but we connect with her in other ways. Now that all of our kids are grown, there may be more opportunities for the three of us to do things together, and I am excited about that.

Our mother is 95 years old, so lately when the three of us talk it is often about her. A year ago we moved her from her own house to a continuing care community. It was so wonderful to be able to share the decision-making, and also the actual labor of the move, among the three of us. I could not imagine doing it alone. I know that whatever the future may bring, in any aspect of life, my two sisters will be there for me as reliable partners and trusted friends.

(Here we are with our mother again, just like in the top picture . . . only this time I am not sitting on her lap.)

“When someone says he’s God and tells you to kill somebody,” my brother counsels me, “don’t listen to him.”
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