My maiden name is Buchanan.  That is Scottish, and there is still a lot of Scot in me.  Ask the Hunni.  They call us “stubborn Scots” for a reason.

We have a character trait–stubbornness.

Now if you were to tell a Buchanan this, they would very firmly and consistently refute the suggestion.  They would be very firm, consistent, and inflexible on this matter.  They would stick to their guns in their refutation.

We  have a castle.

It doesn’t look like this now as the roof was removed to keep from paying taxes, and it is now in ruins.  My grandpa has a piece of the castle.  It sat over his fireplace mantle for many years.

We also have a plaid.

And you will still see us wear it with pride.

Okay, so it usually isn’t in the form of a kilt, but L.L. Bean occasionally sells Buchanan plaid flannel shirts.  I own one.

We have a motto and a crest.

The clan’s motto is  “Henceforth forward the honour shall grow ever brighter.”  Kind of like our bright plaid.

We have an American president.

He was the 15th president of the United States–right before Lincoln, and the only bachelor president.  I refuse to comment on whether or not he was a “good” president.  Let’s just say he was overshadowed by Lincoln.

We have a town.

We had to visit it.

If you look in the background, you will see our van filled with very patient kiddos all very understanding about their mother’s need to photograph this sign.  Can’t you just see the patience and understanding after a very long car trip just emanating and radiating out of the family jalopy?

We were on our way to South Bend to see the Fighting Irish, but before we arrived, we swung through the city of Buchanan to see the Warrior Scots.

Buchanan was a sleepy, little, one-stall, midwest town.  Still, I am glad we stopped.  It was only two miles off the road, and I am sure that it gave my kids a vision of their roots.  (See them in the photo?)

Here we are with my sun-kissed, California cousin.  Her mama is a Buchanan, so she joined in the root resurrection revival.

A story.  About me.  Once upon a time I was at a Bible Conference with The Hunni, kiddos, and a bunch of my family.  Someone commented that it was nice to see so many Buchanans.  I reminded him that I was married and was now a Whitaker.  Later that evening, I recounted the story to The Hunni.  When I repeated the words about being a Whitaker now, his response was, “No you’re not!  You may have taken my name, but you are still all Buchanan.”  And they lived happily ever after.  The End.

But since I did take the Whitaker name.  Let me assure you that I also took our kiddos to visit the three houses that are called the city of Whittaker, Michigan.

Please forgive us the Ice-Cream/Liquor/Beer/Tobacco signs above our heads, we were very young then.  Umm…actually…I guess I’m more comfortable with having the Buchanan heritage of being stubborn than coming from a long line of Ice-Cream, liquor, beer and tobacco salesmen.

Was that really only five years ago?  I wish I still fit into that skirt!  But I wouldn’t trade in the two kiddos I have since given birth to.

If I remember correctly, the kiddos were thrilled that I wanted to make a detour after an already long Sunday.  I believe that they radiated patience and understanding about their mama having a detour and photo shoot on the same day that they were asked to dress up, sit still, and be clean, quiet, and good.

Your host,

rebecca Buchanan-Whitaker

P.S.  Please look at the next photo carefully.

I desperately wanted to write that we stopped in the city of Buchanan because we needed to use the dam facilities.  (And that would have been the truth.)  How-so-ever, I restrained myself from any such jokes.  It was hard, but I did it.  Such restraint.  After all, I didn’t want to spot the Buchanan plaid or the Whitaker Ice-Cream/Liquor/Wine/Tobacco sign.

Bear with me.  My husband has stuck it out for 13+ years.