(Author's Note: My son Somerset was born on a summer's evening, just as the sun was setting. That's how he got his name. I wanted to write a story about him, so I changed his name to Somerled in the story and wrote about him going to Scotland to the Isle of Skye. The reason I picked the Isle of Skye as his destination was because I wanted to go back to Scotland and buy the castle on the Isle of Skye, where King Somerled once lived...)
Somerled Macdonald was a little dreamy someone. He was always dreaming away in school. One day, the teacher caught him dreaming and asked him what he was dreaming about. (I used to stare out of the window a lot in school, says the author. I was so starry-eyed about my future, that daydreaming took up most of my time, some days. That got me up to university though, so don't you give up! )
"I was dreaming about my ancestors," said Somerled.
We had Family Home Evening a lot in those days and Somerled was just taking a day out of his school day to think about it. With moist eyes he reminisced.
"I love Family Home Evening," he said. "You get to do what you want. One night we went on an adventure to Scotland in our heads. We followed the readings of our ancestor Reginald to Scotland and then over to Canada in a boat with a flea, his pet flea," he said politely. "He was scratching all the way."
The teacher was wise and didn't ask any more, but got on with the lesson.
When he'd finished home room time, Somerled went home. He joined arm in arm with his sister Kathy, slung his books over his back (they were in a backpack, he wasn't just holding them loosely in his hand) and connected with the Saviour in his head.
"Is there anything I've forgotten? Oh, yes, milk! We'll buy milk and then we'll go home. Then Mother will be ready for Family Home Evening. I like it when she makes tarts, but milk pudding will be even better. I wonder what she'll make tonight? I like milk on my cereal. I like wheat porridge."
Kathy said, "Wheat porridge is my best, too."
Family Home Evening is when you have fun. I remember one night when my uncle used to live in Kerrisdale, or was it somewhere else? Oh well, we'll say Kerrisdale. We went round there one night and had a meal and had a jolly time playing tiddly winks. That was a kind of Family Home Evening. We build harpsichords on our Family Home Evenings sometimes, although we do other things too. Mother calls us the Society Of Harpsichord Builders because we're so good at it. We want to be a family, but Somerled won't pay his tithing, although we all do. So one night we had him teach a gospel oriented lesson on tithing so he'd understand why he should pay it. Before the lesson we all paid our tithing, but he said it's his pocket money and he's not paying it. Now he says he'll pay it. That's good, because that way we can be sealed in the Temple. He needs to pay his way too.
My name is Mary and I'm his fourth sister. Now you know he has four sisters, I'll tell you their names: Kathy, me Mary, and Elizabeth and Flora, of course. Every family needs a Flora. They're all grown up now. And then there's the boys: Somy, Reginald or Regie as we call him for short, and Godfrey. They all play the harpsichord like Mozart, except Somy. He's just learning. We all love him and he's learning just as fast as he can. He can play Loch Lomond now. On one finger. He's not the Osmonds either. He's very shy and doesn't sing or play any other musical instruments. He dances though. On one foot. Hopscotch!
I'm fat and shy, and he's thin and shy.
I'm having a baby that's why. I got married last year and my husband said, "Let's go right ahead and get started."
We were building the harpsichord one night (we all live in the same house because of lack of room in our own places which are non-existent) when Father saw an important mention in the newspaper: "Castle on the Isle of Skye up for sale." Well, we said, wouldn't we like to buy that.
"I have some pennies," said Somy, racing for his piggy bank.
Father said, "No dear, we'll stay here," and folded over the newspaper. So we carried on building the harpsichord. (Author's Note: When I was in my twenties I was a bit of a fan of Early Music. The Vancouver Early Music Society issued a very good magazine which featured among other things, an advertisement for kits you could buy to build your own harpsichord. I thought this sounded like the ultimate pastime and wanted to do it myself and that is the reason for this story, in part.)
"I want to visit Scotland, the land of my ancestors," said Somerled. "But I can't afford it. Only got 50 cents or less. Not even the price of a postage stamp. And that won't get me as far as Granville Island, let alone the Isle of Skye." So he dreamed about it a little bit. He dreamed about it quite a little bit.
In the dream he built a canoe out of paper. Next he embarked in his canoe and soon met with an octopus.
"Wow! That was frightening!" said Somy, when the teacher asked him why he looked so frightened all of a sudden at school. Back at home, in his dreams, this happened right about the time he got tangled up in his bedsheet. The octopus gripped Somy in its tentacles. He bit it and it loosened its suckers, and he got away safely.
TO BE CONTINUED
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