I'll never forget the day as a five year old that I looked up my uncle's kilt as he came down the stairs in the county recreation hall in Texas where we had our family reunions. He noticed me, and as our eyes met, we both broke out in huge grins. Uncle took me by the hand and promised that I'd get my own kilt when I was grown up. (Kilts were terribly expensive even back then, and our family didn't buy them for kids to grow out of or tear up.) He kept his promise and sent my measurements off to Edinburgh when I was 21. Oh, how I loved that man. I still have that kilt and wear it on occasions, but I have a newer one that I use more often. Part two of Scotland Day on the blog is all men in kilts.