A long number of years ago, my gran’s brother (on my father’s side), set off with his beautiful wife, to create a new life in New Jersey.
Every few years, they would pay a visit and my dad would say,
‘The Yanks are coming.’
We loved it. These exotic relatives of ours with their American twang.
They would bring family as they grew and, sometimes, an amazing friend called Jean.
We had parties.
They visited family and toured Scotland, discovering the ‘old home’.
As kids, we listened in awe to tales from the USA.
We hugged and cried.
They left.
They died.
But, generations of family have grown from those two daring adventurers.
Scotland to the USA – lifetimes ago.
scottishmomus 
I remember when family used to visit from England I loved their accents. I also remember a story they told about when my grandparents went over for a visit back to the “old Country” and grandpa went out to the butcher and bought what we call a roast, my uncle exclaimed about the bloody size of the thing, and my grandfather was renamed “the rich man from the new country”.
I can’t wait until I can come back to my old country from where my ancestors lived.
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I love all kinds of accents. It makes for such interesting sounds and language. Funny how we don’t think we’ve got one ourselves, though. Your uncle must have thought your granda had struck gold in the new land. My uncle used to leave us a few dollars when he left to go home. We never cashed them. Just looked at them and took them into school to show. The wonders!
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