Family Heritage – Does It Influence Who You Are?

I wish I’d started looking into my MacGillivray family history many years ago.

But, like many people, I was caught in the rush of life. First, a self-absorbed teenager. Then a twenty-something trying to find his feet. Then a thirty-something juggling work and a young family, chasing money and milestones. It wasn’t until my forties that I finally stopped and asked,

Why?

• Why did I support Scotland, despite being born near Manchester?

• Why was I so stubborn?

• Why did I always bounce back from failure, like a rubber ball — as one of my old bosses used to say?

• Why did authority rile me up so much?

• Why did I find peace in solitude?

• And why was my instinct always to be defensive?

A Heron and a Realisation

After finishing my O Levels at 16, we went on another family trip to Mull. As a celebration, I spent two weeks on the shores of Loch na Keal with a Kodak Instamatic, trying to photograph a grey heron.

I was happy. Alone. Just me, the bird, and the quiet sounds of the waters rolling through the rocks.

A photo of the beautiful grey heron taken some 44 years after my first efforts!!

At the time, I didn’t think about why I felt so content. I just was. But now, I know I was tapping into something much deeper.

Mull wasn’t just a holiday destination. It was part of me. I’d been christened there, along with my siblings. We visited four or five times a year.

As we drove the island roads, my dad would point out every red wooden post box he had built in his youth. We fished on the loch and handed out buckets of mackerel to local friends. Some we gutted and fried up on a camp stove, coated in oatmeal. Nothing better than freshly caught fish!

We camped at Killiechronan or at Gribun. Washed in the burn. We welcomed visitors to our tent for tea, coffee, and the occasional dram but always lots of conversation. My mum and dad listened to and participated in Scottish country dance music. My dad played the fiddle, like his father before him.

I helped my seannair round up sheep and roll fleeces after shearing. We rummaged through barns at Colligan and Barcaldine for fresh eggs. My mum told stories of her mother baking for the shepherds at Rholl. I played at Pennygown farm with cousins and occasionally bottle-fed orphaned lambs.

Mull was in my blood. But I didn’t yet realise it had settled into my heart and soul.

Looking Back to See Ahead

Now, with over twenty years of research into my MacGillivray roots — and a book to show for it — I see the patterns more clearly.

In Echoes of the Clearances, I’ve tried to honour the resilience, strength, and adaptability of my ancestors. They lived through unimaginable upheaval, but carried with them a fierce connection to land, family, and culture. Even when forced to move on, they found ways to preserve their identity — sometimes openly, sometimes quietly.

That culture still exists. It may wear new clothes now, but its heartbeat remains.

Though I now live on the other side of the world, Mull has never left me. As I grow older — and greyer — I know now that my MacGillivray heritage has somewhat shaped me. It’s in the way I think, the way I feel, and the way I see the world.

I can see it. I can feel it.

What About You?

Has your family heritage shaped who you are?Have you ever stopped to ask why you are the way you are?And if not yet — maybe now is the time to start.