My grandfather is really big into genealogy. He has a room full of mementos and research that he has spent years collecting, and stacks of books on books with pictures, stories, and descriptions of people from the past.

Like anyone that has done countless hours of research on something they are passionate about, he wanted to share this passion with us, his grandchildren. As good grandkids, we would listen patiently while he bought us ice cream, and then run off at the soonest possible moment. Dead people were not relevant and their stories seemed boring. My grandpa was very good about our lack of interest, though.

Little by little, however, I have come to realize I adore history. I love research, I love stories, I love mysteries. Genealogy is a natural offshoot of history, but even with all of my history classes, it wasn't something that I had really thought about. It wasn't until I came to Scotland in February that I caught a glimpse of that passion I had seen in my Dyeed. Suddenly, I was surrounded with paraphernalia that had my last name on it, tartans that belonged to my family, scarves and key chains and coasters and special flannels that belonged to my history. It called back to the days of clan wars and kilts and warriors, to a history that did not belong to everyone, and it seemed to make me special. Not all of the tourists got to see their name posted in all of the shops or had an island named after their family; not everyone was like me.

MacPhee isn't a very common last name, and the clan is only recognized sometimes because it was a smaller clan, but it, and its other variants (McFee, McPhee, McFie, etc. etc) were suddenly in the history books, were the last names of soldiers in the Scottish Highland regiments; the name is even common enough that when I said I was part Scottish and someone asked me my last name, they nodded and said "Aye, that's a good Scottish name." I was so stoked--it was like finding a missing link to the European part of me I knew was there but never found.

To be honest, the clans that still exist have hundreds of last names that connect back to them (My clan is MacFie), so I'm not quite as special as I'd like to think. I'm barely even Scottish--perhaps only a quarter or less--but I am proud of it nonetheless. To think there were people hundreds of years ago that shared the same last name as me, that somehow share some piece of DNA with me, that farmed or fished, that loved and lived and died as I do, that do not share my same lifestyle, but had passions and dreams like I do, is a beautiful thing. It is remarkable.

I will be going home after nearly a year abroad, and am so excited to share this passion for history and my people with my Dyeed - I guess it's better late than never.