Foreword usic. It is a word that encapsulates the definition of sound and challenges the innate propensity for man to embrace “the artist”. Music defines us as human beings. It is a representation of how we choose to communicate the experiences in our lives. More than a compilation of sounds and rhythmic patterns, music is a type of language, a gateway to self-discovery and a universal expression. The beauty of a musical instrument’s construction hints to the quality of its sound. And instruments that are played to their greatest ability are capable of drawing various emotions and memories from people of all ages. Inside this book is the emphasis on a remarkable instrument called the bagpipe. Originating in Europe, the Piob Mhor (“the great pipe”) became widely played and deeply incorporated into the society of Scotland. When the Scottish adopted the bagpipe, it established storytelling through Canntaireachd, a beautiful pipe language. Common Scottish stories were about war, commemoration, and celebration. Today, when a person listens to the eloquent playing of the bagpipe, he or she is actually hearing a story and can interpret its meaning. In the following book, you will find a collection of phenomenal stories written by students from Professor Whitelaw’s music class at the University of California, Riverside. These students have listened to a song, performed by a bagpipe, called “Lament For the Children” by Patrick Mor MacCrimmon. After hearing their initial impression of the tone and tempo, each student used their imagination and created a story. A wide variety of emotion and passion runs through the entirety of this book. It is important to note that the Scottish Clan System, a form of feudalism, has greatly influenced many of the student’s stories. A reader should prepare for uncensored stories that may also relate to someone’s personal memory; there are no rules to interpretation. Since music has a manner of expressing emotion, you may read about depictions of anger, sorrow, joy, or excitement. This book will have a strong impact on its readers, and hopefully make them more cognizant of the Scottish tradition of storytelling. Rachael Escobedo, 2009 First Year Student University of California, Riverside Story written by Nicholas Vincent nce upon a time, there was a young boy who lived in Scotland. He lived in a house nestled in the highlands, with his mother, father, and siblings on a farm. The young boy was restless and often dreamed of what it would be like to leave his home. At first, his parents told him to dismiss these ideas of leaving and told him that the best life for him was life on the farm. Being only seventeen, the boy had neither means of making money himself nor any other place to go. His parents recognized this and hoped that these simple facts would keep him on the farm, at least until he found a wife. Gradually, as they saw how eager he was to leave and as they.

1. Foreword
usic. It is a word that encapsulates the definition of sound and
challenges the innate propensity for man to embrace “the
artist”. Music defines us as human beings. It is a
representation of how we choose to communicate the
experiences in our lives. More than a compilation of sounds
and rhythmic patterns, music is a type of language, a gateway to
self-discovery and a universal expression. The beauty of a
musical instrument’s construction hints to the quality of its
sound. And instruments that are played to their greatest ability
are capable of drawing various emotions and memories from
people of all ages. Inside this book is the emphasis on a
remarkable instrument called the bagpipe. Originating in
Europe, the Piob Mhor (“the great pipe”) became widely played
and deeply incorporated into the society of Scotland. When the
Scottish adopted the bagpipe, it established storytelling through
Canntaireachd, a beautiful pipe language. Common Scottish
stories were about war, commemoration, and celebration.
Today, when a person listens to the eloquent playing of the
bagpipe, he or she is actually hearing a story and can interpret
its meaning.
In the following book, you will find a collection of phenomenal
stories written by students from Professor Whitelaw’s music
class at the University of California, Riverside. These students
have listened to a song, performed by a bagpipe, called “Lament
For the Children” by Patrick Mor MacCrimmon. After hearing
their initial impression of the tone and tempo, each student used
their imagination and created a story. A wide variety of

2. emotion and passion runs through the entirety of this book. It is
important to note that the Scottish Clan System, a form of
feudalism, has greatly influenced many of the student’s stories.
A reader should prepare for uncensored stories that may also
relate to someone’s personal memory; there are no rules to
interpretation. Since music has a manner of expressing
emotion, you may read about depictions of anger, sorrow, joy,
or excitement. This book will have a strong impact on its
readers, and hopefully make them more cognizant of the
Scottish tradition of storytelling.
Rachael Escobedo,
2009 First Year Student
University of California, Riverside
Story written by Nicholas Vincent

3. nce upon a time, there was a young boy who lived in
Scotland. He lived in a house nestled in the highlands, with his
mother, father, and siblings on a farm. The young boy was
restless and often dreamed of what it would be like to leave his
home. At first, his parents told him to dismiss these ideas of
leaving and told him that the best life for him was life on the
farm. Being only seventeen, the boy had neither means of
making money himself nor any other place to go. His parents
recognized this and hoped that these simple facts would keep
him on the farm, at least until he found a wife. Gradually, as
they saw how eager he was to leave and as they realized that his
only desire was to see the world outside their home, they started
to entertain the idea of letting their only son go.
One day, he went a village not far from his home. His mother
had sent him to buy food and supplies to last them for the
upcoming month. While he was in the village, he heard two
men talking outside the pub. They were both members of a
resistance group that fought in the wars against the English.
Eager to leave his home, the boy asked if he could join the men
in fighting for their country. Amazed at his patriotism, the men
said he could come along if he wanted to. He excitedly ran
back home to his family to tell them the great news. His
parents were proud, but worried for their son. Before he left,
his father gave him a special kilt. The hand woven kilt was
made of his clan’s tartan. His father instructed him to guard it
with his life and told him that it would comfort him and remind
him of home. He said his goodbyes and started his journey with
the two warriors. Since he was only seventeen and had no
training in warfare, he became the piper of his battalion. This
was a most highly regarded position and was very important as
well. He learned traditional tunes from other pipers and as time
went by, he started to compose tunes of his own. At his first
battle, as the men were being pushed back by the English, he

4. started to play a cadence. It inspired the men so much, they
were able to gain more ground and actually won the battle. He
became well known and liked by all of the men because his
music was so inspiring.
The years went by and the boy that was only seventeen when he
left home grew into a man. After the wars were over, he started
the journey back home. Along the way he saw all of the
destruction that had been caused by the wars. He then finally
arrived at the village that was closest to his home. Although it
was nice to be in a familiar place, he seemed not to recognize
any of the people there. After spending the night at an inn, he
trekked back home. The man could hardly believe his eyes
when he arrived. What was once his home was now a pile of
ashes. The house in which he once played as a child was gone,
burned to the ground. His family was nowhere to be found.
Suddenly, out of the brush came one of the servants who had
lived with him, and his family. “What happened?” the man
asked. Overcome by grief, the servant, who was now an old
man, sobbingly told the soldier the story of how the English had
killed his family and burned and pillaged their lands. The man
thought himself foolish to have left his home all those years
ago. As much as he had wanted to leave before, he now wished
that he had stayed. The servant, who had not seen him in
several years, then told him how proud his family was of him
and how they believed that he would be great right down to the
end. After the recount of all this, the man stood up. With tears
in his eyes he pulled out the piece of tartan that this father had
given to him before he left. He kissed it, and draped it over his
shoulder. He lifted his bagpipe and began to play a tune that he
had composed himself. The bagpipe wailed as though it were
voices weeping in the wind. It rang through the mountains and
echoed across the land.

5. Story/Feeling
Written by Hannah Lim
April 2009
hile I was listening to this music, I first felt a sense of sadness;
a sadness that came from deception and betrayal. I could sense
that their had been a long series of many battles that led up to a
war and that this song was dedicated as homage to those who
died for Scotland. I also felt feelings of mourning, pride,
respect, loyalty, a sense of joy for the future, and inspiration.
The story takes place in Scotland, a nation of a culture of nature
and pride. There was a war that was taking place in the time of
approximately the fourteenth century, by a notoriously
ambitious king from New Zealand. Before the war had even
begun to conjure or develop, there was a time of peace and joy.
The men of Scotland were known to be of loyal blood to their
families and friends, as well as to their country. This story tells
a tale of betrayal and deception, as well as a broken bond of
brotherhood.
In the year 1309, a man by the name of Redonk was a soldier of
fortune. He was the pride of the Scottish army and was ranked
second to the legendary General Kirk. He lived his life with
such joy and passion, and everyone who knew him found hope
and inspiration in him. There was nothing that could stop him
from achieving anything he put his mind to. He had the support
and love from all he knew and was perfect in the eyes of his
country.

6. Although Redonk seemed to have lived a successful life in all
its abundance, the world around him was filled with corruption
and destruction. It was only a matter of time until he would
choose to discover a life of shame and regret. However, he
would not actually feel those emotions until the end of his life.
In the Scottish world, there was peace and harmony. Anything
else was considered taboo and hardly ever spoken about. But an
enemy of Scotland came lurking in the city where Redonk lived,
and gave him his first temptation. The first taste of evil came
in the form of a woman, who was the enemy. She tempted him
in sexual ways that Redonk could not even imagine, and he fell
into it so fast in a moment’s blinking. As he lay in bed with the
evil temptress, he felt shame and guilt and ran to his wife and
children in confusion. He never revealed his first fall to evil
and life went on with darkness in his heart.
The evil temptress comes to visit Redonk with another taste of
evil. She offered Redonk a rifle in the disguise of a bagpipe
and Redonk took it. Little did he know that the evil temptress
had set a spell on him at that moment and he found himself to
firing the first murderous shot to kill his brother-in-law.
Redonk’s wife’s family was furious and wanted Redonk’s life in
return for their lost son’s life. This was where the war began.
Redonk had convinced the King of Scotland, through his
newfound conniving ways, to send his in-laws off to the land of
New Zealand where they would be exiled. Meanwhile, a half-
breed slave approached Redonk’s in-laws to take them to the
New Zealand King for a time of acknowledgement. The King of
New Zealand somehow found out that Redonk had been tempted
with sexual pleasures and questioned his in-laws about the
situation. They had no idea to what he was inferring, but just

7. then a messenger came before the King and reported that his
wife, the Queen was with child. However, the King thought this
to be shocking because he had not lay with his queen in two
months, due to travel. The Queen had then came to the King
and confronted him, revealing that Redonk had impregnated her.
The king was furious at this point and agreed to join forces with
Redonk’s in-laws, declaring war on Scotland and Redonk.
There were a long series of battles, but the first and greatest act
of revenge was when the King of New Zealand killed his own
wife by poisoning her food. When Redonk found out that the
Queen of New Zealand was murdered with his child in her
stomach, he felt such despair and agony. It was then that he
realized that everything that was happening was because of the
evil that he had fallen into. Redonk died an honorable death
after he made amends with his in-laws, as well as the Kind of
New Zealand.
The music thus reflects the long battle between good and evil
and the overcoming of the good over evil. Because Redonk was
a good man to his country and made amends with his
temptations, he was paid homage and respect. He became an
inspiration for the people of Scotland to strive in all ways away
from evil and to find pride and joy in their hearts, despite such
sadness and grief.
Story written by Kimberly Rice
hen I first heard this I felt as though it was a lament. I felt sad
and melancholy for the one who this song applied to. My story
is about a man who had to go to war and die for the one he
loved. This song was written for her.

8. One day a young couple was walking down a Scottish lane.
When they got home they heard that the call had been sounded
and every man was to report for war. As long as he was of age
he was to report. The man in our couple had willingly joined
many months ago. His grandfather was a piper, his father was a
piper, and he would serve with pride.
The young woman on the other hand knew that she would never
see her husband again. As a piper, he would be targeted
because he was the heart and spirit of the regimen. All she
could feel was pain and sorrow. All she knew was that she
wanted to have more of him, even though she could not.
When he left she didn’t want to let go. When she did she knew
that was the last time she would ever hold him. During the
fight he did all he could not to think of the love of his life. He
was the piper and he must be the spirit and that he was. He
fought and when he died the tunes of his pipe never really died.
They would always live on in this place; just as his father’s and
grandfather’s had.
When the lady in our life was told how her love was stolen from
her she felt sorrow and pride. Her husband did die, but he died
doing what he believed was right and in no circumstances would
she had let him go otherwise. Over time the one gift that he had
left behind, a child would become a piper himself who would
eventually find love. When that happened she would be there to
support every decision and be happy for him. Until then she
would be sorrowful that he would have to miss the memories
that he could have had of his father.

9. Canntaireachd UCR Music Segment Story
Written by Fusholange Taylor
April 2009
imagine a piper, playing his song to lament over fallen warriors
and friends; the deaths have caused great sadness in the hearts
of those that knew them. They were great men. The piper
would stand near the sea, along with others in the village that
loved the men, and play about their hard work and diligence in
the town. I can imagine the sun shining over the ridge on the
early morning, lining the clouds with spots of light. A battle
has just ended and the villagers are paying their respects to
those that have passed.
The tale would begin with a brief sorrow for those lost in the
battle, expressing a deep melancholy for those who have passed.
Then it would turn into a song about how gloriously they
fought, and that deaths of their close friends and family were
not shameful, but sacrificial and courageous for the sake of
protecting the village it’s inhabitants.
Then it would move on to the lives of the warriors, and how
they performed their daily activities in their society, helping
their society and even telling small anecdotes about funny
things that their fellow citizens performed, going in to detail on
some of those that especially had a funny situation or moment.
Then they would speak surely of how dearly they would be
missed, by the townspeople and by the loved one’s as well.

10. They would bid good-bye to them and shift them off into the
waves of the ocean that climbed the beach. The song would
mimic the sound of the waves that the caskets float upon as the
warriors went out to sea, floating in a calm and very peaceful
end.
The people would continue, in mourning, visiting and drinking
their sorrows away, but speaking highly and longingly of those
that were lost.
Story written by Erin Banks
bout the tune: I thought it was a tune to gather people together.
I pictured a large village beside the shore. There, the pipers
signal everyone to the beach and await the ships at sea. The
tune also had a romantic sound, strong and persistent, so I
thought about a reckless love…
On the marble seashore, everyone from town was waiting.
Accompanying them were the pipers that played the song of
gathering. It was fluid yet choppy, just like the waves in the
sea. It was autumn and everyone rejoiced in happiness. Five
large ships danced towards the shore as the music played on.
Everyone in town was there to greet the ships except for one
young lady. She chose to witness the scene from a cliff nearby.
Her hair swayed with the wind as her arms wrapped around her
body. She at long last was to meet her love. He was an heir to
the throne and she was the town blacksmith’s daughter.
Just before his journey to conquer new land, she and the Prince
had shared a romantic bond of love. He told her that when he

11. came back they would be together.
When the ships arrived her heart began to beat faster and faster.
Men piled out of the ships like overflowing soup. As the
masses simmered down, her heart began to beat slower and
slower. Her hands slowly moved up to her lips and she let out a
panicked breath. Her Prince never came out.
She ran down to the sea line and began asking her neighbors
about him. They answered her. He died trying to save another
man from drowning at sea. Luckily the ground was cool and
soft for her feverish body to lie on; she fainted.
She woke up in the village at the doctor’s house and demanded
to know what she was doing there. When she heard what
happened she just fell silent. Her love was gone in a valiant
attempt to save someone’s life. Here she was alive when all she
wanted was death. She had a sudden burst of selfish words and
stormed out of the house.
For the next four weeks she learned the ways of the warrior.
She made the decision to go to sea. She was headed out to the
vast open sea, the sea that took her life away. She made a pact
that she would die out there someday when the time was right
and join her love in heaven.
It was now time for the ships to part the land again. It was
morning. The chill winter breeze brought an eerie feeling to the
shipmates. She was the only one that didn’t mind. She had
completely changed after a month of knowing that her soul mate
was gone. Once a lovely lady and a charming daughter, she was

12. now a bulky, heartless warrior ready for action. Nothing could
stop her from her goal.
As the ships set off, the pipers played a song of farewell. The
sound was strong and fluid. It was persistent and romantic. All
she could do was hear that tune. She remembered it from when
her love left for battle. Now she was listening to it this time.
She began to think about the song for a little while longer until
the song was out of reach by the sound of waves. It was going
to be the last song that she would hear.
Months passed and she fought a few wars. She did very well
and everyone enjoyed her company. Everyone was happy
except for her. All she thought about was when her time would
come and when she could see her love again.
A couple days later, her wish came true. Evening was fast
approaching and the ship was homeward bound. The waves
were gentle and the breeze was fresh and salty. Many of the
men were on deck playing cards when a man came out with a
bagpipe. He began to play the song of farewell, just because
that was the only one he knew. That’s when she decided it was
time to finally rest.
As the tune went on through the evening light, she walked
slowly to the bough of the ship. She replayed memories of her
Prince as she climbed on the edge. She leaned over the edge
and hit the icy, cold water. She took in her last breath of air
and started sinking into the ocean. Down, down, down she
went. She could still hear the song she and her Prince had last
heard on shore in the deep, frigid water that was to be her
grave. Everything went black soon enough. She died with the

13. memory of farewell.
Story by Lu Clinton
believe that the music is telling the story of victory during a
war. The tempo of the song is slow, which hints at the fact that
many were lost during the war. The war, which was probably
very brutal, left many dead. As a result this song was used to
commemorate the passing of many brave soldiers. The victory
of a war cannot be determined by the song itself, but since there
is mourning for the lost soldiers, it can be assumed that the war
was won. However, people died in the process. Of the people
that died, a high-ranking official was probably one of them: one
that was loved by everyone, one that not only had the loyalty of
his troops, but the respect also. A leader that was ruthless in
battle, but came home to support his family.
The long notes played in the song tell me a sad story that is
likely about people’s death. Even if the story was not about the
death of a high-ranking official, it was the death of someone.
Perhaps it was the death of a family member. I can picture
many people gathered around a corpse paying their respects.
While this is happening, a person is playing the bagpipe in the
background because the bagpipes were such and important part
of the dead person’s life.
Canntaireachd
Written by Seham Nabilsi

14. lay. Not knowing what to expect when the canntaireachd would
begin to play, I assumed what I would hear. My assumption
turned out to be wrong because in the past when I heard
bagpipes being played they were always tunes of happiness,
victory, or love. The many movies I have watched that had
taken place in Scotland or had a Scottish actor in them always
had bagpipes playing, of course. Whenever the bagpipes were
played they were always happy tunes of many kinds and even
happy stories. I know I should not have assumed that this
canntaireachd would be a happy tune, but with my past
experiences of hearing bagpipes that is what they always were.
My assumption was wrong even though I knew it from the start.
This canntaireachd was, I believe, telling a story, not of
happiness or love, but of recognizing someone very noble.
When I heard the first three seconds the first thing that came to
mind was you Professor Ian. The way it started off reminded
me of those times in class when you would play your bagpipes
for us and want us to sing along with you to the notes on the
board. You would play the same notes, then say stop, and then
begin again. Apart from that the rest of the song I listened to in
curiosity. I had to play it a second time and that is when I
realized what was being told.
After those three seconds I listened to the canntaireachd very
closely with curiosity because I was trying to make out what
was being said through these tunes. I listened in silence and
with no thoughts, but the tunes rang in my ears for the rest of
the song. When I played it a second time that is when I
believed I knew what kind of message it was trying to get
across to me. I believe that it was telling a story of a noble
man’s life. This man, according to the tunes, had a peaceful
and quiet life at home with his people. He had an exciting life
as well which I got from other notes being played during the
canntaireachd. The low notes throughout the song, which are
many, told the story of the noble man’s life when at home in his

15. village. The soft and low notes I believe told me the parts of
this noble man’s life when he was at home, away from all the
danger and difficult times of his life. They sounded as if, when
he was at home, he would just relax and enjoy the time he had
for himself and not worry about anything around him. He
would not even worry about his people since it was his time to
relax and for others to watch over him. The tunes that carried
on for more than in the original I believe also related to the
parts in his life when he was relaxing and had nothing to worry
about. When he was just walking or lying around thinking of
nothing other than the wonderful life that he lived. Also, the
notes that lasted longer than in the original told the story of his
life at home. The long notes symbolize the peaceful and non-
chaotic place he lived in. It was all quiet with just the wind
blowing along the hills, making the grass sway back and forth,
giving the scenery of where he lived. The high notes in this
canntaireachd I believe told the story of when his life was in
danger and the high points when death was just around the
corner. I believe this noble man was a warrior and sometimes
he had to leave his peaceful home and his people to fight for
their protection. When the notes switch from low to high that is
when I knew that duty was calling and he had to leave. He had
many heroic adventures and he always seemed to return with no
difficulty and continue living the peaceful life after danger was
dealt with. In the last few minutes it sounds like he had very
little time to relax in his peaceful home, and that he had to go to
war often. I believe this because of the many high notes that
were being played in the end. Then as the high notes were
mixing with one another I believe that showed the pain and
difficulty he had to go through to live, but he was not
successful. The noble man died at one of his battles because the
last note was a high one symbolizing his death. When there are
high notes I believe that they were battle tunes. When there
were low notes they were laments. In general, the tunes all
combined were supposed to be saluting a noble man who did
good for his people and kept them safe until his life was taken

16. away.
My Story of the Urlar
Written by Rachael Escobedo
hile listening to this song, a variety of emotions, images, and
thoughts came over me. The beginning opens with long
sequences of sound and continues the same rhythmic pattern of
sorrow throughout the entirety of the song. The tune was not
fast-paced, exciting, nor joyful. Thus, I immediately eliminated
the happy stories of Scottish pipers playing their bagpipes for a
birth, marriage, or a dance. I believe that this song was
performed at funerals because it made me feel thoughts of
sorrow and remembrance; I pictured grey skies and the
downcast appearance on a family’s face. So, that being said,
here is my story:
On a very gloomy and bitter cold afternoon, a young boy
feverishly kicks a small grey stone while holding the hand of
his mother. He keeps his mind occupied with the continuous
kicking in order to suppress his feelings of complete despair.
His tiny green eyes are fixated upon the movement of his feet,
the scuffing of his toes against the dirt, and the sharp pain he
feels each time he strikes the rather sharp edges of the rock.
His mother looks down upon her son and wonders whether or
not he’s old enough to understand death and the reasons for his
beloved grandfather’s passing. She observes a difference in his
demeanor. Her child does not laugh, but does not cry. He
refuses to speak to anyone and only talks to himself. He has
been like this for days, ever since grandfather Cormick died
tragically from a mysterious disease. The mother and her son
approach a congregation of family members on top of a lush
green hill surrounded by the markers of the dead. Garbed in

17. black, the family circles around the burial mound of their
treasured relative.
The background of this scene only enhances the mood of the
people. The sky is the greyest it has been in months. Rain
clouds gather and taunt the world below with a chance of
precipitation. Birds are hiding in their nests, refusing to share
the sweet wound of their voices. All the while tears are forming
in the eyes of Cormick’s family and the pipers begin to play.
Everyone stares at the mound in the center, paying their
respects and listening carefully to the song emanating from the
bagpipes. It is clear that each person is starting to recollect
memories with Cormick as the tune flows from ear to ear. The
grandmother looks upon her husband, trying her hardest not to
break down to the ground, and remembers the first time they
two of them met. She recalls the smells and sounds of when she
laid eyes on Cormick. She remembers their first kiss and then
his proposal of marriage to her and to the Patriarch. Now, she
must face the rest of her life as a widow, still holding onto the
belongings and memories of her dead husband.
The scene shifts to the daughter who is the mother of the little
boy. Her lips tremble with goodbye as she quietly chokes back
heavy tears so that her son will not see. He was the father of
her dreams. Although strict and firm at times, he had a big
heart and soft side for his little girl. She would always be his
little girl, she thought, and not even death could change that.
The little boy looks up at his mother and sees that she is
breaking inside. His small hand tightly grips his mother’s,
hoping to give her some strength. Meanwhile he remembers his
grandfather and wishes more than anything in the world that he
will somehow come back to him. Cormick was his best friend

18. and taught him many things about life. His favorite time was
when his grandfather would pick him up and hoist him high
pretending that he was a bird flying through the air. He refuses
to speak to anyone because he does not want to know about the
reality of life. He only talks to himself because no one around
can understand his pain as an abandoned grandson. He has not
cried because he is in shock, and still prays before bed each
night that God will bring back his grandfather.
The melody continues in the background, bringing everyone
closer together. Emotions leap out of chests and leak onto
faces. Each tune strikes the heart with great sorrow. The little
boy looks to the sky as the song closes to and end, and tears
finally flow down his cold red cheeks.
Story written by Brian Lee
he bagpipe music piece reminds me of a time long ago, 1994 to
be exact. I was a wee lad at the tender age of seven boarding an
airplane en route to Seattle. The flight took around three hours
but I was asleep most of the way there. I remember lifting up
the armrests that were adjoining my parent’s seats and mine and
sleeping across horizontally on both their laps. It was a time of
comfort and little meaning, but it was a very happy time. The
time literally flew by as I closed my eyes and drifted off into a
land of imagination. By the time I woke up, the plane had
touched down and we were at the car rental terminal.
After we touched down in Sea-Tac, we rented a White Ford
Taurus. We proceeded to drive the rented vehicle into the north
towards Vancouver. This was the first time I have ever left the

19. country but I did not think of it as a groundbreaking feat. After
three hours of windy mountain paths and beautiful scenery we
arrived in the metropolis that was home to relatives whom I
have never met before. It was odd meeting my uncle Jojo who
was only a few years older than I.
My parents became reacquainted with my other relatives for a
couple of days before we all went out for a family outing. It is
than that I am reminded of a bagpipe playing on the huge park,
which name escapes me. It was when my family was having our
portrait taken by a street artist whose painting still hangs above
out fireplace to this very day. While I do not explicitly
remember what tune was being played, I do remember the
sounds of a bagpipe ringing in my ears as I was sitting there
with my brother for upwards of an hour while the artist sketched
away.
Once that was all said and done, the next vivid memory that
comes to mind was walking across a suspension bridge. To be
honest, what this has to do with the bagpipe melody is beyond
me, however it remains a feint memory at the back of my mind
that is triggered when I hear any unfamiliar bagpipe tune. This
suspension bridge was quite a ways up, and is much like those
shown on cartoons: swaying to the slightest blowing of the
wind. There were a lot of people crossing the bridge, which
made the bridge sway even more. It was heart pounding;
walking across this rigid bridge trying not to stare down, but it
was also an adrenaline rush like none I have ever experienced at
such a young age. It was quite the departure from sitting down
and having my portrait drawn to say the least.
About a week later we drove back down to Seattle and returned
our rental car. Oddly enough I remember our arrival to Seattle

20. with crystal clarity, but the departure back to Los Angeles is as
hazy as a foggy morning. It would not be for another nine years
though that I would return to my Uncle Jojo’s humble abode in
Vancouver, but the memories I made there are enough to last me
a lifetime’s worth. The loud sounds of a bagpipe in action
while my portrait is etched onto paper, and the haunting scene
of walking a shaky bridge all arise in full detail when the sound
of the bagpipe… sounds. A mixture of serenity and anxiety will
always rush into my mind when I hear the powerful sounds of a
bagpipe in action. It brings me back to a time when I did not
have to worry much about life, a time I would most certainly
pay a return to.
Story written by Sandra Vargas
his is the story…of the man who here in front of us lies,
a man who did not know the word defeat, and a man who in the
worst face of peril showed no fear. For he who owes nothing,
fears nothing.
He was born not to a wealthy family but to that of misfortune.
Since his early days his troubles started, bad colics and sickness
seemed to be the only thing that he was born for, but a fighter
he was, and he grew stronger everyday. Nonetheless this would
only further his suffering, for he was a poor being who would
struggle to do what most of us take for granted.
Walking was never so hard for anyone as it was for him. First
steps took longer to take than to any other boy his age,
wobbling and falling—it just seemed as if he was not destined
to be amongst the rest of us. For years he fell, and continuously
failed but never gave up. On one particularly good day for him,

21. any regular day for the rest of us, he managed to maintain his
balance taking a few awkward steps, but they were steps
nonetheless.
At school the rest of the children laughed at and mocked his
funny way of walking, for he took extra time to assess each
step, making him the last to arrive and first to be dismissed
from any activity. Not only was this done by his fellow
classmates, but by his teachers as well, for in their eyes a child
with such difficulties should be left at home and not be exposed
to the dangers that he could face by being left to wander freely.
As the years went by he learned to improve his walking and was
able to endure the laughs and names that people around would
call him. He was not the smartest fellow, so assignments and
homework were a difficult task. Being held back was common
to him now, seeing people he knew, people his age move on…
leaving him behind, crippled and alone.
Middle school proved to be too difficult and being the oldest in
his class, he decided to move forward and get a job. This, to
say the least, was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to
face, but with the notion of being able to walk he kept his head
up and went from employer to employer. He never let go or
dimmed down his spirit no matter the laughs, mockery or jokes
that people who interviewed him would offer.
One if these people, a kind, blind old man who was only blind
physically, heard from his voice something that only a person
who shuts his mouth and eyes and opens his ears can hear;
something that requires no previous judgment of the person. He
managed to hear in his voice the commitment that he had toward
accomplishing his goals, and he knew that his was a valuable

22. person though he was slow, could not walk properly, and was
difficult to understand. He knew that he would not rest until his
job had been perfectly executed.
For years he worked at the same station with the same routine,
watched and slowly learned, until no one could do a better job
than him in that station. Carving wood in such a high detail, he
managed to make himself noticed and appreciated by his co-
workers and others. But at the highest point of his life, being at
the top meant he could only go down, and down he went. He
came down with a horrible sickness from breathing in all the
dust from the wood, his lungs clogged up and he had incredible
trouble breathing, to which the doctor said there was nothing he
could do. All that was left was to wait.
He stayed in bed for weeks. People from work came to visit, as
did customers he had made fine furniture for, people who
respected him and his work, people who learned bits of his life
story and were there for whatever reason they felt. Those who
had taken the time to know him knew that even though the
doctor said it would only be a matter of days, they were sure
that he would not give up so easily. And he never did. And so
it was, what was supposed to be days turned into weeks, and
weeks into months and still he held on, bound to his bed,
enduring the hardships each day brought, though he was finding
it harder to breathe and stay awake.
The day he passed was incredibly calm and silent. There was
this aura over the small town that seemed to have left everybody
empty; people just passed each other on the street and would
gently nod to say hello, but no one would say a word. He had
died alone, resting in his bed, and was found later that morning
by the son of the old blind man, who had gone to take him some

23. fruit for breakfast.
The young man was overcome by emotion, yet was determined
to honor his father’s old friend. Using his wealth and power, he
acquired the finest clothes and casket and had a ceremony at
which the town was invited to say one last goodbye to a lonely
fellow whom everybody took for granted, whom they thought
would never amount to anything, but had the strongest
conviction than any of them there.
So here we are in front of this grave, and in it lays a man, not
an extraordinary man, not even and ordinary man, but a man
with only one talent, only one gift. He had the conviction to
overcome anything on his path, to be able to keep going even in
the worst circumstances, and a man who besides everything else
had no regret for anything he’d done and no resentment for the
life he had been given or for the treatment he had endured from
others. A man whose life was not wealthy, lucky, or even
fortunate but the life of a man who made his own way by the
power and conviction of his unwavering will.
Story for the Urlar
Written by Matthew Pak
uring the Middle Ages, young men were required to learn
how to fight to help defend their country. At times, soldiers
would come and take these young men from their families for
years and years to train and to eventually be a part of a
country’s army. Families could not hide their boys for fear of
losing their homes and belongings. A young boy, younger than
most, was taken from his family as well. This boy grew to be a
strong fighter. His name was Rocket.

24. Upon completing what he understood as his duty to his country,
he and several other boys from the same village that were taken
around the same time came back to the village where they were
born and raised. Rocket felt it would complete him to add some
peace to his troubled nights and an easier life. Being back in
his village, he soon became accustomed to this new lifestyle and
began helping out families with anything possible. After
several months, this man became attracted to one of the
daughters of a family he would constantly help out with. Not
knowing what exactly he should do, or if he even had a chance,
he went about his life, ignoring his feelings. The girl, who
noticed the man’s kindness, began to have the same feelings,
yet he was still unsure about what to do. The girl’s family had
invited Rocket one night to their dinner knowing that he was
living by himself. There, Rocket finally met Faith. After
dinner, Faith and Rocket talked all night.
In the middle of the night, members of a nearby village caught
the village where Rocket and Faith were by surprise and raided
them. Rocket and his friends were forced to defend their
village with whatever they could in order to prevent a total loss.
He and his friends and other villagers were able to fend out the
invaders although they suffered some damage. The next day,
Rocket and his friends decided to make a pact to carry their
weapons and to always stay alert in case of another invasion.
Although times were tough and people needed to survive
however possible, the village and Rocket and his friends
decided to not retaliate and instead to always stay alert, to carry
their weapons, and to defend their village in case of another
raid. In the meantime, Rocket and Faith grew very close
together and developed a relationship. Soon after, Rocket and
Faith got married in their village, had their own farming land,
and started a family in the same village

25. Time after time, the village that Rocket and his new family
lived in defended and fought against many raids. Every time
something would happen, Faith would become very worried,
knowing the dangers that Rocket had to go through. During one
raid, Rocket lost one of his friends by a member of a different
village. This was the line for Faith. Faith no longer wanted
Rocket to be a part of the fights, and wanted to move away with
Rocket. Faith felt as if this wasn’t their duty anymore. Faith
told Rocket about her feelings, but Rocket felt the exact
opposite. Having been raised to fight and to defend, and being
back in his home village, Rocket wanted to continue to help
however possible. The village needed any skills they could
have or else the village would no longer exist.
The members of the village began to complain and concurred
that they had had enough of the raids and wanted to retaliate,
especially since they had lost so much and they felt like they
were continuing to live in fear. So one night, Rocket and his
friends, as well as other members of their village decided to
raid another village to get food and supplies. Faith didn’t like
this idea, but if the raid were successful, they would have
somewhat of an excess amount of food and supplies for the
village. That night, the villagers went out to begin their raid.
After many stressful hours, the villagers finally returned. Faith
went outside to greet her Rocket. To her surprise, she could not
spot Rocket. Something was wrong. Faith ran towards those
villagers and his friends that went on the raid, asking where he
was. She then noticed Rocket’s weapons in the hands of their
friend. Faith dropped to her knees, and began to cry. She kept
thinking of what she would tell her kids and what she would do
with her life. The friends told faith what had happened. The
next day, the villagers held a huge ceremony for Rocket. His
friends brought their bagpipes and began playing a song. It

26. began like this… Faith felt as if she could tell Rocket’s life
story through this song and celebrated the life that Rocket lived
with the rest of the villagers.
Urlar
Written by Vanessa Lopez
listened to the Urlar a few times. The first time I
listened to it, I just wanted to get an overall feeling from it.
After that, I looked at the categories of different tunes that it
could fall into. I narrowed it down to a lament, salute or
rowing. I didn’t think that this piece of music could be a battle
tune because it wasn’t something that put courage or honor in
my head. I think if battle tunes as being a little upbeat, but
slow enough to bring seriousness. I didn’t think this could be a
gathering tune either because it wasn’t upbeat enough.
Gatherings are meant to have a good time and I didn’t feel that
from this tune. I finally listened to it for a second time thinking
of a lament, salute, or rowing. Rowing did not seem to fit
because I just couldn’t imagine rowers doing work as this is
playing. Rowing was the hardest to listen for, still having
trouble on how a rowing tune should sound. I listened for a
salute type of feel and I did not get that. I feel like a salute is
like an honoring of some good deed a person has done. This
tune did feel a little like a salute, but I couldn’t get over the
sadness feeling I got from it. A salute has absolutely nothing to
do with sadness, but a lament could be honoring someone’s life
as well as being saddened by their death. So I came to the
conclusion that a lament would fit right into this tune.
A lament is supposed to be sad and sorrowful. This tune is at a
slower pace. When I was listening to it, it reminded me of the
type of tune you would hear at a cemetery when the casket is
being put in the ground. The feelings that stirred up in me

27. when listening to the tune were sorrow, mixed with a little
happiness and relief. These feelings reminded me of being at a
funeral, specifically my grandmother’s funeral. I was eight
years old and I remember being very sad. I started thinking of
my grandmother and all the times I had with her. Every time I
was with her I was happy and she was very nice. As I was
thinking sad thoughts, I started to remember the good times,
which brought a little happiness. I also felt relief because she
was hurting before her passing and I knew she was over it.
I imagine a ceremony of someone who has just passed a painful
death. This tune sounds like the person is very meaningful, but
then again everyone is meaningful to somebody. The setting is
a cemetery. The sky is gloomy. The sun is not out. The grass
is very green and when you look around, it seems like the
cemetery never ends. The people are all close friends, family,
and also people who admired that person. The casket is sitting
there and all the people are looking at it. You can see in their
eyes that each of them is thinking of a good memory of the
person. It is kind of like that scene from Watchmen when at
The Comedian’s funeral, there is a close-up of each of their
faces and a memory suddenly appears on the screen. This
memory is of how that person sees the Comedian. The people at
the funeral are all thinking of that one memory that tells
everything they know about that person who has just passed.
These people are thinking of memories and mostly all the
memories are bringing up good times that they had with that
person. This person’s life story is being told in their memories
alone. This tune is playing as those people think of these
memories. Somehow, this tune is bringing out memories that
they have not thought of in so long. This tune is a catalyst for
their thoughts. The music is playing, the people are thinking
and the casket is lowering. The scene is just of the funeral but

28. the whole story is in the memories. Through the memories we
see that this person had a sense of humor and was very kind to
others. Most people did not think this person should have left
them in that way. The death was very painful and slow.
Towards the end of this person’s time on earth, they were
comfortable with what was about to happen and accepted it.
This is the relief that people were feeling. The fact that this
person was brave enough to show courage in a very rough time
like that, gave a little courage to everyone else at that funeral.
Throughout this person’s life they taught many life lessons to
people. These people were at the funeral that day. This
person’s death, somehow, also showed them a lesson. Each
person gained something different from the departed.
Robert Wilkinson Story
highlander is standing tall on the side of a mountain
overlooking a glen looking at the sunset with melancholy,
wishing he were in his homeland. Even as he’s walking down
through the valley, he still wishes he were back in the heather
glens of his hometown. In his sorrow he decides to head back
to where he’s from and where his clan is. As he’s walking
through the forest, the music changes to a happier sound: the
highlander is coming home.
He eventually reaches the village and there is a sad timbre while
he wishes all of his friends farewell. There is sadness but also
joy in the anticipation of the return. He eventually has set off
however, beginning a journey of a lifetime. He gathers his
sword and cloak and starts to walk the journey that would
change his life forever. He looks around at the purple and green
of heather and hills and can’t help but begin to think of his wife
at home. The purple of the heather reminds him of her violet

29. eyes. His heart turns on a cheery note when he thinks of the
family and livelihood they were going to start together.
Before he left, he was just beginning to understand the basics of
smithing that his father taught him. He still had a long way to
go but he hoped that one day, he’d have the skill to make
beautiful Celtic swords from those rough iron implements.
Maybe eventually he would save enough so they could have a
small herd of sheep. As he said this, the thought of him and his
wife standing together with sheep near his smithing forge came
to him. It filled his heart with longing and his mind with hope.
He stops to sleep finding a place on the edge of a riverbank near
a waterfall, after building his fire and making a lean-to shelter
with his tartan. After he gets his accommodations squared
away, he begins the hunt, looking for a tasty meal. He takes an
old trail to head deeper into the forest and walks through
progressively thicker underbrush. He walks deeper and deeper
in the moon-dappled light until he comes through a clearing and
spots a huge white stag across the river. He fits an arrow to his
bow and moves closer to the stag through the shadows. Getting
within range he draws an arrow to his bow and pulls the cord
feeling the strain as every pound of muscle in his 6’1’’ body
burns with the effort.
For an instant that seems to last forever the stag stares at him
with deep eyes that seem to have lived unnumbered years. The
highlander lets the arrow fly, breaking that moment of trust
between man and beast. The arrow strikes true, hitting the stag
in the center of his side. Although it is a wound that would
have felled a lesser beast, the stag still has the strength to run,
even as his lifeblood gushes from the wound in his side. He
flies through the woods, leaving a trail of blood and thrashed

30. brush behind him. The highlander follows at top speed; his feet
seem to barely even hit the ground.
The stag takes him to the deepest parts of the strange wood; he
runs through this forest in pursuit of the stag until the stag
finally pauses for a moment to catch his breath. In a flash the
highlander is upon him grasping at the stag’s throat with his
bare hand. When he finally has a hold he pulls with all his
might ripping the throat out of the beast. He holds it high,
blood dripping down his hand as the stag gives forth his final
gurgle of a death rattle through the bloody gash in his neck.
In a quick practiced move, the highlander swings to cut the head
of the beast off with his massive sword. Lifting both the head
and throat high over his head he gives a huge roar, one of the
sounds that makes birds fly, one of the type of sounds that you
can hear for miles. Shouting in a loud clear voice “There can
be only one!”
Canntaireachd Project
Written by Stephanie Vincent
calm wind blew in the early hours of the day. The sun hid
from the awaiting clouds, but illuminating rays sprung from the
hidden sun to join the clouds, waking life on the valley as it
travailed upward. The air was cold and moist and the plants
weighed down with morning due. The day had just awoken.
The small village to the north was a quiet uninterrupted one,
with a small population of clans that seemed to all be weaved
together in their craftsmanships. The cottages were small and

31. limber and allowed the cold of the morning to seep in and
awake the flesh of a young girl of no more than thirteen. She
slept calmly beneath her animal fur and her long curls shaded
her blue eyes from the harshness of the morning rays. The cold
slowly crept up her legs and to her neck. She awoke slowly,
allowing the very day to seep into her whole body. She drew a
faint smile upon her pale oval face. Shutting her eyes and
taking a deep breath, she exhaled the long night, and inhaled the
new beginning day.
The air was quiet and the animals hadn’t awoken yet. She was
the only one enjoying the very serene morning. The sudden
eruption of the horses running from the falls broke her subtle
awakening. She jumped from her bed, grabbing what garments
she could and ran outside to see what all the noise was.
The rest of the village had awoken to the sound of twenty some
odd horses in the distance. The young girl with the pale face
was the first to make it to the top of the hill awaiting the
company of large overbearing ogre men. She could smell the
beer and whisky before she could make out their faces. The
dust and dirt behind the men made it look as though they were
near-gods coming from the falls with their tall muscular figures
and heavy hoofing. They all seemed to stop at once landing a
single blade of grass upon the young girl’s foot.
“Where be the main hall little one?” asked the large giant in
front of the small girl. She was nearly speechless at the low
baritone voice the man had approached her with. In a
disgruntled manner, the large man and his group pushed the girl
aside and proceeded to the village hall. They stumbled over
their feet and their horses. It was very apparent that these men
had had a long night of celebration. Their kilts were stained

32. with blood, vomit, and other fluids that were unknown.
The eyes of every villager were either in pure astonishment or
pure disgust. They did not question why the men were there
and how they came across this small hole in the mountain kind
of village. They just all tagged along behind the men to the
main hall.
The hall was not a large one and was able to only hold up to
about forty people at most and was rarely used for celebration,
for there was such a small amount of people that there was not
much to celebrate. The air seemed more cold and chilling on
the girl’s flesh. The day that had stirred beauty from her now
grew a disgusted blackness in the pit of her stomach.
Something was not right about these large men. The stumble in
her small footsteps allowed the young girl to stay a long
distance behind the group of men followed by the quizzical
villagers.
A sudden flock of birds flew over the distant hills. The young
girl grabbing a pail of goat’s milk made it to the main hall just
at the point that the men seemed impatient. She handed the pail
to one of the larger of the tall men, his hand engulfing hers and
returning a thank you with a toothless grin. This sent shivers
up the young girl’s spine.
The men celebrated for three long days, and the villagers were
running out of whiskey and food for the large men, along with
themselves. So they sent the sweet small girl to tell the man
what the situation was. They noticed that some of the men had
taken a liking to the small child and that they would not harm
her if she were to give the bad news.

33. The girl was shaking in her little slippers going up to the main
hall where the men were all strung out drunk and asleep. The
large doors were heavy and hard to open and the moist air added
weight to the wooden doors. Barley opening the door wide
enough, the small white figure ventured into the dark, large hall
full of drunken man. She fell over a few feet before she finally
reached the largest man of them all. Lightly tapping him on the
left shoulder, the man rose to meet her eyes with his own.
Then, he knew she came bearing bad news. Before she had said
anything, there was a large amount of sound that bounced off
the mountaintops, and flooded the valley. The girl in fright
attempted to hide behind the large man, but he was already up,
along with his twenty some odd men and was out the door.
They were breathing in a battle breath fierce enough to scare an
average man off of his feet. The girl finally made it up the
large hill where she had first met the barbaric men and stared at
the valley below. It was not a sight she had anticipated. There
had been another group of men that came into the valley bearing
arms and ready for war.
The air was so cold, and the wind made it difficult to awake the
stiffness in the young girl’s joints. She had seen a battle unfold
below her of these giant men. The village was a peaceful one
and never seen war on the front, she had no clue as to why these
men were here and why these other men came following them
and hunting them down like food. The wind made her cheeks
numb and her nose red. She was as stiff as the hills behind her.
She closed her eyes to run from the images of the lush green
valley, the red blood in the valley below her, and the golden
curls that blew across her face. Though her eyes could be
shielded from the overwhelming pain that was occurring below,
her ears could not run as far as her mind. The sound of clashing
blades and yelping men spread from the valley below to the top

34. of the hill where the young girl stood. Though she was too far
up from the men below, she could hear the sounds of death as if
she were experiencing death itself.
This went on for close to and hour, till it could safely be said
that the visitors that first came to the village were becoming
triumphant. When the fighting had ceased and there was no
more blood to be spilt, the men now ranked in fourteen, losing
about eleven or so men. The young men of the village helped
the remaining ogres clear the valley and give proper burial to
the men that fought that day. The rest of the afternoon was
calm and quiet. There was no reason to celebrate, for there
were more lost in battle than the tall stonewall ogres had
anticipated.
The night swept over the sky to blanket the village. The air was
heavy, but felt refreshing and soothing. The ogre men slept
outside, so as to take in all the night starts, clouds, and dreams.
They all slept peacefully, exempt for the leader of the pact. He
sensed a cold chill run down his spine and could not set the
feeling to calm down beneath his thick skin. At close to dawn
he sat up, gendering at the valley, and then knew what was
tearing his blacked hide of a heart apart. He sprung up ad
stormed through the village, pounding on every door looking for
the little child with the golden curls. She was nowhere to be
found. He awoke the village in such a rage that each knock on
the village doors could have toppled them to the ground.
The search went till the sun finally danced high in the sky,
hiding behind clouds and mountaintops. The clouds grew thick
and black, and the sky began to shake with a pulsating force to
awake the tears he held to mourn. Finally, the big man found a
string of golden hair drifting in a puddle on the far side of the

35. village. The hair led to a pale face, even paler than ever, and
the blood stilled in her cold body. She lay there in the puddle,
wet and alone.
She had ran from the fighting and slipped down one of the hills,
hitting her head on a sharp stone, and left lifeless at the bottom
of the hill. The day grew dark in the mid afternoon. The big
rough hands picked up the young girl and carried her across the
village to a small hut next to the main hall where the young girl
slept. She had no family to mourn her, and no one close to cry
for her. She was truly alone.
Rain began to spill upon the shoulders of the tall once beast of a
man. He gently laid her down and began to clean her face and
hair. He never cried during this process, just remained quiet.
His men had never seen him so fixated on a single task as this
with such intensity, and they had seen his battle cry. They all
knew to stay away. By late afternoon, the girl was prepared for
a funeral. She was wrapped in a see through cloth that gave her
angelic appearance. She was placed on the ground far from the
other graves made that day. She was specially placed on a quiet
small hill to the back, where yellow flowers only grew. She
was placed in a way that everyone could grieve. The day was
quiet. Only the sound of thunder disturbed the silence of the
hills. The rain grew thicker and the people grew few. Soon all
that surrounded the child was the only person that shed a tear.
The rain was so thick that the tear could not be seen running
down his coarse face. He quickly placed her in the shallow
grave, then slowly placed the rocks, one by one, over her cold
body.
Never once in his life had he killed someone unintentionally.
She was pure to him, the only connection to innocence the man

36. had left, and he lost it in a ranging grudge between a rebellious
army. He stood up, walked to his men, and rode out of the
village with the darkened sky behind him.
Canntaireachd Project
Written by Diana Vincenty
he Urlar of this tune was very enjoyable to listen to. I
believed it to be rather peaceful. Even though I do not think of
it as sorrowful, there is a definite hint of sadness to it. I am not
quite sure that I would be able to put it under any one category
with my full confidence. But I feel like it could be a salute and
a lamentation in one. Is that possible? I do not know, but I get
both of those feelings when I listen to the song. I feel like it is
a salute because it sounds powerful in some of the sections. A
reason for it being a lament would be because it sometimes has
that trace of sadness in it. I thought about it more and I
realized it could be a salute to a fallen warrior. That made more
sense in my mind. They would be celebrating his life by
saluting him, but there would also be a tinge of sadness to the
tune because of the fact that he is gone.
It made me think of someone who longed for something. I
could see people missing someone and longing for a life back
and to be with that person. When the song came to the higher
notes I felt those were more positive, hopeful even. When the
notes went down on the scale I thought those were a bit sadder,
almost like an acceptance of what had happened.
The actual story I visualize is a mother who is at home and who
is going about her daily business, but her son is constantly on
her mind. He is at war for his country and she longs for him to

37. come home to her. She hears a knock. She finishes her task
and walks to the door. She opens it up and she finds two men in
uniform standing in front of her. Immediately she knows what
has happened and falls to her knees in agonizing pain. She
knows her son is dead. The two men have yet to deliver the
news to her, and once they get the words out it is like another
blow to her already crushed heart. The soldiers are not there to
comfort though, only to deliver news. They help her up and
give her a medal her son earned while fighting for his country.
There is a service for him later and a huge crown has gathered.
The mother watches on as his coffin is carried through the street
by men in uniform. He understands that what she is feeling is
normal: sadness, depression, anger. But seeing all those people
gathered to honor him and his life lets her know that he did not
die in vain. He died for something that he believed in. There is
a hole in her heart that was emptied when her son died, and it
has now been filled a little to know that the men he served with
all have honor in life and in death. He is only dead in a
physical sense, but she knows that all the people he knew and
had an impact on will carry his life with them throughout the
rest of their lives. She realizes that he would be beyond proud
to look upon what she sees now.
The song reminds me that life is about rejoicing even in times
of sadness and depression. Life should be about celebration and
not about suffering. Even though there are circumstances out of
our control that test us every day, we have the choice to
overcome them and become stronger for it.
Story written by David Ng

38. felt this song was very relaxing and peaceful. It makes
me think of a morning breeze and the fresh scent of a brand new
day. I hear the birds chirping and the quietness all around. I
look around and see a very peaceful scene and I realize that all
that wake up late are simply missing out. It makes me take a
moment to treasure all that is great in life. The following is a
story that the song tells…
In a far away kingdom, people lived in harmony and peace. It
was actually a very special morning as everyone awaited the
birth if the newborn prince. Outside in the main hall, courts
men and alike all gathered to celebrate and congratulate the
king for the newborn prince. Everybody waited nervously.
Minutes passed and announcements of a safe delivery were been
made. The people laughed out of excitement upon hearing the
good news. It was indeed a spectacular day for everybody of
the kingdom.
Listening Response
Written by William Terry
hen I listened to the assigned Urlar, it stirred feelings of
sorrow and mourning within me. It is difficult to specifically
identify the type of tune it is, however based upon the feelings
that I experienced from listening to the recording, I would
classify this piobaireachd as a lament. Laments were written to
commemorate the death of someone important, the remembrance
of an event or in general to express moods of sorrow and
longing.
The Urlar reminded me of the movie Braveheart after Mel
Gibson’s character, William Wallace, was drawn and quartered.
The tune stirs up mental imagery. One could imagine a lone

39. piper silhouetted against the craggy hills of Scotland playing
this lament for the fallen William Wallace.
I believe that the tune was written to commemorate the loss of a
chieftain. Chieftains, being the patriarchal leaders in their clan,
were honored and respected men. I believe that this
piobaireachd was written after a chieftain had died.
I imagine his death as a slow coming. Well into his years, the
elderly chieftain with blue eyes and white hair sets out on a
journey to visit a neighboring clan. The trail is a long and
weary; eventually he must stop for a rest. After two days
travel, his preexisting illness gets the better of him and he can’t
break camp. Slowly, he perishes alone in the highlands away
from home.
The neighboring clan, after not hearing form the chieftain, sets
out to see what has happened. During their expedition they
discover his horse still hitched to a tree and his tent with the
chieftain inside. To his discoverers, the chieftain appears to be
sleeping, but after trying to rouse him they learn that he has in
fact perished.
Returning to the chieftain’s clan, the search party informs the
clansmen about the untimely demise of their beloved patriarch.
The small farming community is overcome with anguish. The
bard recounts the stories of old; of when the mighty chieftain
was a strong young man. He bravely defended his people from
invading tribes in the area. He single handedly united his small
band against their common enemy and led them to victory.

40. The piper, in conjunction with the bard, composes this lament
piobaireachd for the fallen chieftain. It is played during a
remembrance ceremony held by the chieftain’s family. The
ceremony is attended by people from all across the countryside.
The stories of his glory days are told. The piper plays his
lament and there is much eating, drinking and crying. The
ceremony ends in the late hours of the night after darkness has
fallen upon the land and the only light comes from the warm
glow of the small fires which dot the area. The council, derived
from men from the village, has gathered. These men are the
eldest in the village and they meet to discuss the future of the
people. They decide that the eldest son of the chieftain will be
promoted to the position of head patriarch: the prime chieftain.
After the successor is named, the people retire as the fire dies
down. The village goes to sleep still mourning the loss of their
great leader with the haunting drone of his lament fading in the
distance.
Mystery Piobaireachd
Written by Jade Flenna
he song is a lament comprised mainly of slow, sustained
notes. The tone of the song is very sad. Although it begins at a
medium tempo, tension is soon created as the notes become
drawn out. The pitch and the combination of the notes seem to
suggest danger. Although I cannot identify notes by ear, I
assume that what I am hearing are tritonals. If that were the
case, this song would have been written before the Inquisition.
Hearing the song gives me the mental impression of a sense of
loss so great that it has changed one’s outlook. Its notes are
reminiscent of long sighs, or pain playing out and recurring in
the mind.

41. Perhaps this is a lament written about a patriarch whose fate
was similar to Lochiel’s. It seems to speak of suffering great
loss at the hands of one’s enemies; not a simple defeat, but total
oblivion to a place that has always been identified as home. I
feel as if it describes a horrible moment being experienced by
someone, the intensity of which seems to make the scene play
out in slow motion, stretching time. Or, perhaps the song
describes the very moment when a patriarch realized that
despite all of man’s efforts and casualties, the situation was
futile. The slow pace suggests that the army is exhausted, and
perhaps overwhelmed by weapons, which they have never seen
the likes of before. The mournful notes seem to describe the
decline of power, or loss of stamina and life. Even without
lyrics, the song is haunting and emotional. Perhaps a patriarch
has faced the English army many times and now has run out of
luck. This could be his last stand but the enemy is too large and
unrelenting. It may be morbid, but I feel as if the song
describes a moment of hopelessness.
On the other hand, the very mournful, sustained notes may
suggest the very struggle to survive. Perhaps the patriarch of
the song is dying after receiving a mortal wound, and is now
exposed to the elements while slowly bleeding to death. This
could commemorate a valiant battle that now has come to an
early end. Perhaps he is looking for the last time at his home,
as it is littered with war dead. Perhaps he has been fighting for
some time, ignoring his wounds, and is now unable to continue.
He cannot believe that this is the end or that events have turned
out this way, and is not ready to die. Yet, he can no longer
cling to life and his vision is fading.
Listening to the tune for the first time made me feel like crying.
It felt as if the song itself was crying over an unforgettable
event, and so compelled all listeners to join in. It caused a

42. sense of unease in my mind. The notes are very different than
those of other songs I’ve heard, and are fascinating. The tune
“feels” very old, and makes me attempt to visualize what war at
that time must have been like. However, I am a bit confused
about what is so sad in the song. It seems as if the song may be
meant to capture the doubt within torment.
Through my Ears
Written by Rosy Hernandez
hen I first listened to the track, my very first reaction was
that I really couldn’t hear the music in a relaxed state of mind
because the sound didn’t feel relaxing. However, as it kept
playing it made me feel relaxed, but sad at the same time. The
feeling was somewhat depressing. Then it started to remind me
of a movie that I had seen when I was in the fourth grade. It
was called “The Little Princess”. It was about a little girl who
was sent to an orphanage because many thought that her father,
who was in the military, had died in combat. She was treated
like a slave in the orphanage. Her caretaker would make her
clean every single room in the building and she would make her
cook and clean after the rest of the girls would finish eating.
Her actual room was in the attic with another girl who was also
a slave. The movie was very sad because the little princess
suffered a lot. There was a scene that made me cry and that’s
what the track really made me think of. It was the scene when
the little girl found her father. She screamed and yelled at him,
but he couldn’t recognize her and he asked to have her removed
her from his home. The little princess then started to cry a lot
and that really broke my heart, that her father did want her
anymore. Eventually towards the end of the movie her father
did recognize her and he removed her and the other slave from
the orphanage.

43. The story that would go through my head if I were to write
some lyrics to the track would be a love and hate story. It
would take place far away from the city, in the country. A
young girl is walking along a cracked old road when an old car
passes by and stops next to her. She becomes frightened and
she starts to walk even faster. The young man in the car gets
out and runs towards her to explain to her that his intentions
were not to scare her, he only wanted to offer her a ride to
wherever she needed to be. She trusts him right away and feels
that he is telling the truth. She gets in his car and he drops her
off. He doesn’t ask to see her again and she feels she has done
something wrong. She figures he didn’t think she was pretty so
she forgets about him. She doesn’t really know that he actually
fell in love with her as soon as he laid eyes on her. However,
he feels she might have gotten the wrong impression of him
when he picked her up. As the days pass they both think about
each other without the other knowing.
About two months later she runs into him at the drugstore. He
is surprised that she would even speak to him. She has a huge
smile on her face and so does he. After they both ask each
other how they have been, she figures she will ask him if he
wants to hang out. To his surprise he just says yes and she is
really happy to hear that. He tells her that he feels she disliked
him from the first day they met and she says she feels the same.
Both feel relieved to hear that they felt the same way from the
first day that they met.
Soon after, they have many nights together. They both feel as if
they are in lala land, up in the clouds when they are together.
She says he is perfect and he always reminds her that she is the
love of his life and that he will never leave her. She, however,
has forgotten to tell him that she is soon leaving out of town to

44. pursue a career. Once he hears this news he feels betrayed
because he was thinking she only wanted to be with him. She
tells him that her intentions were not to hurt him because she
really does love him a lot. He doesn’t believe her so he goes on
and starts to see another woman. She doesn’t believe it when
her friend tells her about it, until one day she sees it with her
own eyes. She tells him she feels so stupid to be in love with
the one man who doesn’t understand that she has to leave.
From then on she leaves town early. She can’t be there
knowing that he is there. She cries many nights when she
moves away and he never speaks to her after. She never
understands why he would have reacted the way he did. She
feels she has wasted her time with him. He never apologizes for
betraying her and she feels that he never really loved her.
A few years pass and she receives a letter from him. He
explains to her the reasons he never called or wrote. She is
already married by the time she had receives the letter. It is too
late, she writes. She says she has moved on with her life and
that she is happy with the person she is with. He is never able
to forget about her and he loves her till he dies.
The story had a sad ending because that is how the track made
me feel. In the beginning it was really nice, but as the end of
the track arrived it became a depressing feeling. It was as if the
feeling that was first felt no longer mattered because it had to
end.
Story written by Dulce Padilla

45. his man is intelligent, handsome and accomplished, with
runny hair like the flowers on the meadow, and eyes that reflect
a life’s long journey. He is an aged man who feels
accomplished, but at the same time he is anguished. He thinks
about the way his life is and the hopes and dreams he once had.
He reflects on the major events of his life, and the one minors
ones that almost seem insignificant. He begins to think about
his family, beginning with his parents; his mother always caring
for the family; his father always busy, working and providing
moral and materialistic support. He thinks of his siblings as
they used to play when they were children, and how things
changed as they got older. Then he thinks of the first day he
met his wife. From there all he sees are his children and their
children.
He is sitting down on a hillside. His surroundings are all green;
it is the beginning of spring. The weather is warm with a touch
of a light, refreshing breeze. His surroundings all express a
sense of calmness and unison. The wind is soothing, with just
the right touch of comfort. The sun blazing over he sky is
neither hot nor cold, but content. The few clouds that are
present are dispersed with no real meaning, just passing over as
the wind blows.
As he sits looking at the scenery, he is relaxed, yet troubled.
He looks around. In his surroundings he sees all the colors
blossoming on the mountainside. The different shades of blue,
green, orange, yellow, pink, purple and black, all make him
think of the intricate parts of life. He sees every color and
carefully tries to place them in his memory. The bugs crawling
around make him think of how simple yet complicated their
lives must be. He wants to cherish this moment in life, as if
there won’t ever be anymore like it. In the back of his mind he
sees constant flashbacks of the good, bad, difficult, sad, happy

46. and pleasing moments; the day his very first pet died, the day he
met his wife, and all the recurring events in between. This
mixed pattern of emotions stirs curiosity that he doesn’t
understand.
He begins to think of a new way to advise those in his life that
he cares for and wishes to pass wisdom to. He wants to tell his
life story and warn people. He wants to tell them to enjoy life,
but at the same time warn them of the dangers that exist in this
world. He wants to prevent them from doing anything now that
they might regret later in life.
Putting together all the words and trying to express himself in a
way that those around him will understand makes him feel
frustrated. He feels as if he might just say the opposite of what
he means. He feels that he has so much to say, but no word to
truly express his point. There is a difficult pattern he follows in
trying to put his emotions into words. The fact that he is
thinking of his emotions is new to him; he never really stopped
to think about his feelings. As he gathers all his thoughts, he
finds that there are no human words to truly express some of the
things he is thinking.
He is trying to provide guidance to a path of happiness and
wisdom. He fears that if he cannot guide those around him he
will never forgive himself, and never achieve his goals and
duties as a human being, which may cause him to never live in
peace in his afterlife.
So, he thinks for a couple of hours. He remembers how life was
once full of responsibility. He begins to admire the simplicity
of things and how it is highly overcomplicated by the world

47. around him. Everything done is worked up so much that it
obscures the initiating concept. Right then, a light bulb flashes
in his head as to how he will express his thoughts and feelings.
He begins to write this song in hopes of enlightening us and
simplifying everything he was frustrated about.
He carefully picks out the melody and the notes he will play and
express. He finds a pattern that he feels is best suited to
emphasize certain points. As he plays his music he doesn’t stop
to think about changing anything and keeps playing until he
feels relieved and accomplished once more.
This song reminds me of myself in a constant time of frustration
and confusion, always trying to figure out what life is all about
and what the role of each individual is in my life. It reminds
me of myself trying to figure out the essence of why things
happen the way they do. At the same time, thinking of this aged
man having a small hope of being able to find a way to express
himself gives me hope that maybe the world I live in is all
wrongly looked at. His struggle as a mixture of hope and
despair is all a constant struggle I see in many people. The
song reminds me of a man who would begin to play the bagpipe
every night at six o’clock across the street from where my
father once worked. It also reminds me of my grandpa during
his last few months of life and his frustration with not being
able to communicate as he had all his life. He would never
admit that he was suffering through anything, but in the end he
gave in to let people around him know he would just be fine.
The wise man, until his last day, always kept his family united
and they all remember him because of the wisdom he passed
along to his children, grandchildren, neighbors, friends, and
visitors. HHhjk
Music Story

48. Written by Michael LeClair
he piece of music provided seems, in my opinion, to have a
rather solemn and sad, but peaceful sound to it. While listening
to the piece I began to imagine an image of a rural farming
town, very early in the morning, with the sun just barely peering
over a low mountain range, which encompasses this village.
The morning is wet, with a sheet of thin fog lying across the
acres of greenery. The clear sky allows the rays from the sun to
shine down upon the tall blades of grass dripping with dew,
creating a vast twinkling field that shines like the stars from the
night before. There is a single log cabin style house in the
middle of the field, barely big enough to house a family, with
smoke still rising from its chimney, created by the embers left
over from last night’s fire. There appears to be no sign of
anyone for miles around, other than a small shed in the distance,
which probably belongs to the family living in this cabin.
A young man is just waking up, quietly, as to not disturb his
mother or sister. He pulls off his thin bed sheets, his hands and
feet quite numb from the freezing night and cool morning air,
and takes them into his baby sister’s room. He notices that she
is shivering in her sleep, so he gently lays his sheets over her
and kisses her on the forehead. He quickly gets dressed and
grabs a change of clothes, which he stuffs into a hand woven
pack that his mother made for him when he was a young boy.
Then he goes into the kitchen, where the smoldering ashes of
the fire remain, and places the last two remaining logs from the
log pile into the fireplace, hoping that it will provide warmth
for his family while he is away. A small basket of apples is
sitting on the kitchen counter. He grabs one and places it in his
already overstuffed pack. As he heads for the front door, he
stops himself to ponder whether or not he should go see his
mother one last time before he leaves, but quickly continues

49. toward the door realizing that he will probably only succeed in
waking her and delay his inevitable journey.
As he leaves, he closes the door before him softly and breathes
in a deep breath of the crisp morning air. An icy breeze blows
against his face sending a shiver down his spine, but he
continues out nonetheless, wrapping a scarf around his neck.
The muddy grass makes a squishing noise under his boots as he
heads out towards the road a few miles to the west. As he is
walking, he glances down to his elongated shadow on the
ground caused by the still low sun. His heart fills with a sense
of sadness as he sees his shadow walking alone, with no other
shadows anywhere to be seen. He turns his head back to take
one final look at his house, now about a mile in the distance.
With smoke rising once again from the chimney, the sight of his
peaceful home brings his mind to peace, knowing that his
journey is a one that he must partake in for the sake of his
family.
Urlar Story
Written by Jason Kurosu
he Urlar struck me as an overall somber and solemn piece.
It certainly had its more positive sounding moments, but even
these moments felt overwhelmed by the slow, sad tone.
Whenever I hear slow bagpipe tunes like this, mind immediately
recalls images of police funerals. I myself have never been to
one but depictions on television and in movies seem to indicate
that this bagpipe tradition transcends the ethnicity of the slain
officer, whatever that may be. Either way, this image of the cop
funeral has given tunes like this more than a sad overtone, but a
tragic one at that, a sadness that could have been avoided. I
would definitely categorize this as a lament.

50. At the same time, however, there are prettier (perhaps not
necessarily happier) moments in the song. As stated before,
these moments seemed overwhelmed by the sadness, and so my
feelings on those happy moments were reflected through that
sadness, as one may feel while attending a funeral, and
reminiscing on those happier moments while the deceased was
live. The joy was there, but serene, stable, passive, like happy
memories of someone long lost.
So, I’m going to try and reflect those feelings through my
story…
Michael Mcphee abhorred bagpipe sand would have been one of
the last people to want a bagpipe song written about and
dedicated to him. Any of his family members could have
attested to this, and yet they all agreed that a proper bagpipe
tune be composed in his memory. Such a thought may seem
like damn near blasphemy to some, but Michael never directly
expressed any wishes against the use of bagpipes at his funeral.
His children remember how he would look disapprovingly upon
friends brought to the house who were known pipers, or
children of known pipers. His wife remembered his sitting up
in bed many a morning, ears attuned to the distant buzz of pipes
from several houses or so over, grumbling, as many do, from
unpleasant noises at those most sensitive, early hours.
But to not play any music at a man’s funeral was tantamount to
blasphemy in its own right. To have those crushed by loss
merely standing, staring at a rectangular ditch yet to be filled by
a father of their household, in nothing but dead silence just

51. felt… inappropriate. Funerals are, despite what they seem, for
the service of the living rather than the dead. It was in this
frame of mind that the decision to have music played was made.
His children suggested perhaps an alternate instrument, such as
the harp, but there was an abundance of able and willing pipers,
including Michael’s brother-in-law, his children’s friends, and
several of their neighbors. His wife didn’t know Michael to be
an enthusiast for any instrument at all, so the bagpipe was more
of a practical choice.
Michael’s distaste for song made the music choice difficult.
While one might say he would then care less about the choice of
a song in these circumstances, Michael’s wife found the matter
of choice difficult, for no song seemed to match Michael well.
The only ones about grumpy, strong men usually had him
turning around and realizing all the joys of life, and how he
could have spent all that time savoring every last moment.
Michael didn’t do that.
Her brother, having met Michael many times over, wrote a tune
that he felt better matched Michael’s personality. It was
solemn, as was appropriate in light of a man’s death. Its
melody was long and drawn out as was Michael, always
grumbling, and long-lived enough to display some distaste for
every facet and topic. Yet, underneath all of that, he was a
loving husband and father. Even if that love was seldom
expressed, it was always felt.
M

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