Donald Malcolm, an elderly Scotsman and active member of the Scottish community in Madison, passed away last week, and I attended his funeral today. It was graveside, which meant outside in the dusting, but I don't think anybody minded the cold. But while they were lowering the coffin down, the skirl picks up in the distance. On the hill, about 70 yards away, was a lone piper. You could barely see him through the snow, but the sound was amazing. As a piper myself, I've never cried to the sound of bagpipes, but when he began "Flowers of the Forest" there was not a dry eye in the cemetery...

I didn't know Donald too well, but I know that he would've loved that piper at his funeral. It was pretty powerful.