Scottish Pride, Wichita Roots. WCP&D

Introductions are lame, But History is Cool

Like any great story, there is fact that history is 1) written by the survivors, 2)subject to the haze of beer and time and, 3)not necessarily “better” without being made better. Therefore, children. listen to the epic that is the Wichita Caledonian Pipes & Drums . . .

In Anno Domini 2005, there was a bag pipe band in Wichita. In fact, in those days there were but two bands. Both bands had sprung from the toil of Scottish immigrants to the prairie (this is true), found purchase in the fertile landscape and flourished. But it was a dark time and soon dissent spread into the gardens of the bands (well mostly of one-the second band was imbued with enough alcohol it was dissent-proof). After much hushèd grumblings, they decided to start a new band. One full of joy and hope and the laughter of children and optimism and equity for all men (and women and future men who want to be women and women that hated men but needed ways to change tires without messing their nylons) but, there was a problem: no drummers. This too is true . . .

Fasting forwardly to 2006 without preparing to fast forward, the band found a drum boss. Who, in his infinite wisdom, found other drummers (this is true), some drums and writing instruments to scribe some drum parts. Others from the fledgling troupe of bards created logos and band names and recipes for delicious soups that were put aside “just for now” and they eventually decided on a name: The Wichita Caledonian Drums. The bagpipers hated this name for the fear it created and the decision to add “pipes &” was passed while the drummers were out smoking.

Off they went as a prom dress after the last slow dance. Great exuberance drove them into the shapeless void that is “gigging for money”. Times were truly lean: the other pipe bands were not willing to share their bounty; venues were not willing to hire such a rag-tag group; and the fact that they only knew five tunes collectively kept the WCP&D in dire straits (this is true). As fate would do what fate does do, there was a job! An unclaimed job. A job for the ages. The WCP&D would have their day and their day would be at the Cowtown Museum! What says “fine Scottish legacy” with the gusto of a re-enactment-based visit to the nineteenth century? Nothing, that’s what. Thus, camped under a tree in the farthest corner of the park grounds, did the WCP&D undertake the very first job in their history. It was the proverbial red-letter day and it. Was. Terrible. This is true . . .

More to come in part two