Every year about this time a group of local Caledonians sponsors the Scottish Games in Forest Park. Friday night is ceremony and music. Saturday brings out the burly guys tossing the caber, flinging giant stones from chains, tossing bales of hay over a high jump bar with a pitchfork and whatever else one does if you have 18 inch biceps and wear a kilt.
The show on Friday night is the calling of the clans. A representative of each of the clans of Scotland emerges from the mists holding a torch, shouts something fierce about how they stood side-by-side with Robert the Bruce at the Battle of Ballykaboom, kicked proud King Edward of England in the ass and otherwise should not be messed with. Then they stride forward, place their torches in a frame, form a circle and do something that an Irishman like me cannot interpret. It's fun.