Growing up, I was surrounded by family. Not just the cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and even a great-grandmother... I was also surrounded by stories of great-great-grandparents and distant Scottish relatives.
My paternal grandmother had boxes and albums of old family photos. And by old, I mean ferrotype old. She also had odd keepsakes that had stories attached to them.
Such is the case with this horn. It was her grandfather's and he brought it with him when he left Kilmarnock, Scotland to come to the U.S.
There are initials scratched in it almost like ancient runes.
As kids, my cousins and I would always try to blow it like a trumpet. My cousin Beth was the most successful at that endeavor.
I know one should not become to attached to "things", but I love the fact that I have these little tactile connections to my family.
Now if I could only get my hands on some of the pirate booty that my maternal grandfather was sure existed...