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EXPLORING KENTUCKY- March 2001 
by Katherine Tandy Brown

Toss Me That Caber, Will Ya?
Glasgow's bonny highland games go international

Charles B. Honeycutt cuts quite a handsome figure in a kilt. A photo of him in full Scottish dress carries the caption “Glasgow Highland Games Guide to the Well-Dressed Gentleman” and hangs prominently in the headquarters of this southern Kentucky town’s annual event.

Honeycutt is the mayor of Glasgow. He’s of Scottish parentage and is wearing his family tartan. But come Memorial Day weekend, he’ll be far from the only man in town in a skirt. Similarly-attired gents literally will be dropping out of the sky over Barren River Lake State Park, as a kilt-clad skydiving team opens the 16th annual Glasgow Highland Games (GHG).

“There are many games held in the U.S.,” says Maureen Hendricks, GHG executive secretary, “but nobody else does that. They’re a whole team of hilarious guys who land on certain spots on the field. They’ve been doing it for years, and it really gets the crowd going.”

Usually that crowd she’s referring to averages from 7,000 to 8,000 fun-seeking souls. This year that number could skyrocket to anywhere from 25,000 to 50,000, for Glasgow has been chosen to host the 2001 International Gathering of Clans and Families. In the world of Highland Games, that’s quite an honor. Though the International Games are held annually, only two other U.S. cities have ever hosted the prestigious event, San Francisco in 1990 and Atlanta in 1980.

“We feel very privileged to be in such rare company,” says H.B. (Bill) Dearman, Jr., executive vice-president of the Glasgow Barren County Chamber of Commerce and GHG treasurer. “Generally, one chief comes to the games. He brings a fairly large entourage with him because they have their ‘annual meeting’ at that time. This year we have 14 chiefs coming from Scotland, which will increase the number of clans having annual meetings here.”

The Lord Provost (or mayor) of the other Glasgow across the pond has expressed an interest in attending, which would bring the number of honored guests to 15. Not to mention Kentucky Governor Paul E. Patton, who each year hosts a Governor’s Breakfast at eight a.m. prior to the official start of Saturday’s activities.

Of the 200 officially recognized clans, between 125 and 150 will send representatives to the fete, which this year will expand from its usual weekend to a week-long event, from May 30 through June 3, due to its world class scope.

Wall-to-wall festivities kick off this year at a Wednesday night Beach Concert with wildly popular Celtic folk and rock fusion artists Seven Nations. Thursday features a Luncheon with the Clan Chiefs and a pipe band concert. Friday, the streets of Glasgow come alive with the sound of bagpipes on parade to welcome those eminent Scots. And Friday night, cultures come together at a Kentucky barbecue and Ceilidh (pronounced KAY-lee).

“It’s really just a big hootenanny,” says Dearman. Actually, the Ceilidh dates back to a time when a Highland chief would call his clan together to indulge in an evening of feasting, music and dancing to celebrate a successful harvest or victory in battle. Glasgow’s version will set those Kentucky highland hills ringing with three topnotch Celtic bands, the Glengarry Bhoys, Full Moon Ensemble, and Father, Son and Friends, all of whom will keep toes a-tappin’ and hearts a-longin’ for the old country throughout the weekend.

Heading Saturday and Sunday’s bill, of course, are traditional Scottish athletic contests, like the caber toss. In laymen’s terms, that means hard-muscled, stocky men in kilts attempting to lift and throw telephone poles the diameter of their kilted thighs. Believe it or not, they make a living at it. GHG is one of the few games that still invites professional athletes. “These,” Hendricks explains, “are extremely expensive, ESPN 2-type professionals.”

In addition to the caber toss, there’s the primarily amateur battle axe throw, seven “heavy events” that include the clachneart and sheaf toss (again, men throwing weighty objects), Knights on Steeds, local (kilts optional) and clan (kilts required) tug of wars, a “Kilted Mile” run, power demonstrations by the Omega Force Strength Team (a Christian group of weightlifters who hold the world’s record for log lift at 825 pounds), and a women’s haggis toss.

In days of yore when men were busy in battle across a river, the women would wrap food in a bundle and heave it over to them. Thus, the haggis toss. And one lucky lady gets to judge the Bonniest Knees Contest. “In other words,” Hendricks laughs, “a blindfolded woman feels up guys’ knees!”

As a spectator sport, the Highland Games are hard to beat. All athletic events (excluding, of course, those bonny knees) are sanctioned, which means that winners accumulate points leading to the North American championships.

Everyone’s a winner in the scaled-to-size, strength, skill and agility events for four-to-six- year-olds, which follow mini how-to clinics. Children’s athletic director, champion wrestler Mad Max MacDougald, makes sure every kid gets a ribbon and has a good time to boot.

Bygone boots and saddles clash during an armored Medieval battle re-enactment, followed by the only slightly more contemporary (18th and 19th century ) 78th Fraser military regiment re- enactment, all in full costume.

Far more than just sports and clashes, the Games are in fact a joyous celebration of Scottish culture and heritage. Pipe bands team up and roam Barren Lake State Park’s Strathbarren and St. Andrews fields like traveling minstrels. Lining those meadows are clan tents laden with Scottish ornamentation and vendor stalls proffering Celtic treasures from pewter tankards, clan brooches and animal pelts to traditional folk music tapes, knives and lengths of tartan. Highland cattle, sheep dog demonstrations and a canine parade add authentic color. And at the GHG Historical Committee tent you can look up your ancestry on a computer or bone up at a Scottish history seminar.

All the while, competitions hold sway in Gaelic harp playing, piping and drumming, and every sort of Highland dancing, from the Fling to the Sword Dance, which originated in 1054, so legend has it, when Malcolm Canmore slew Macbeth, laid his sword over his late adversary and danced in triumph.

Even the non-competitive can shake a leg at a Scottish country dance, or at Saturday night’s formal gala, the torch-lit Tartan Bash. A grand buffet is served to the strains of harp music. Then kilted gentlemen and ladies in sashes sashay to big band sounds at the Tartan Ball, before a second set kicks back with Nervous Melvin and the Mistakes, a jivey rock n’ roll group led by a psychiatrist.

And as always, during the week when this Kentucky town of 14,200 swells with Celtic pride, Barren River Lake will become Loch Barren, complete with its own smoke-bellowing monster named Barrie.

According to Robert Harrison, GHG president, Glasgow is a perfect spot for the Games, as its flourishing farms, lovely landscape, prosperous industries and strong spirituality embody the pioneer spirit with which it was founded in 1799 by a Scotsman who received the land as payment for fighting in the Revolutionary War.

“It is clear,” Harrison says, that “the Celtic values of honor, family loyalty and duty in conformity with nature brought to the area by the first Scottish settlers have served well and withstood the changes of time.”

Begun in the mid-1980s by the local Chamber of Commerce, the GHG quickly grew into its own organization. According to Hendricks, each festival takes at least a year to plan. “As a matter of fact,” she says, “we just invited a Chief for 2003.”

All of the Highland Games held in this country celebrate heritage, she continues, but Glasgow adds to that a family orientation and Southern hospitality, a combination that brings rafts of post-games complimentary mail every year.

Perhaps it’s because they do things right. Just before the first GHG in 1986, the city of Glasgow, Kentucky, asked the city of Glasgow, Scotland, permission to adopt the City of Glasgow tartan as its tartan in the U.S. Authorization was granted, and then-Lord Provost Robert Gray journeyed to Kentucky to become the first chief of the GHG.

Though he’s not Scottish, Dearman will join the mayor in Scottish dress this year – sporran, Ghillie Brogues, kilt and all. “With the international games coming,” he laughs, “I figured it was time for me to buy a kilt. I got the Glasgow tartan.”

Katherine Tandy Brown is a staff writer for The Lane Report.
editorial@lanereport.com

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