Scotia Metalwork
The work of J. Michael McRae
Random Thoughts
    There was a time when everything that was used was made by someone that the user knew: bread by the baker, pots by the potter, cloth by the weaver, tools and hardware by the blacksmith. Somehow we have turned this all around.
    It started with the Industrial Revolution when machines were made to imitate what had been made by hand, to relieve us of the “burden” of work. The standard has shifted, too. Now we tend to judge handmade against what is made by machine. Look at your own life and see how many things you use everyday are made by a real person- a kitchen tool, a mug, a quilt? (Third world sweatshop labor counts as real people, but do you really want to support that kind of industry?)
    This also opens the question of Art or Craft? Art is beautiful, uplifting to the soul. Craft is another kind of beauty. It is attached to this world, down to earth, useful daily, but no less soulful. As I have worked in Craft I have come to see it as “the Art of the everyday”, a thing of beauty to use for the most mundane purpose: to hold your coffee, to cut your food, to warm you against the cold. Gibran writes: “Work is love made visible.” The person who made this object imbued it with love and his/her own person, and there is a spiritual connection to all the other craftspeople in the world.
Machines can make some wonderful things, but a person can make them REAL. Revolution means a complete cycle, to turn around.

Be Revolutionary...Buy Handmade! 
Every line of strength in American history is a line colored with Scottish blood.




A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.
Robert Heinlein - Time Is Not Enough


When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.
                                                                                                                                                                                                Billy, age 4.

You got my gold; you got my silver.
All that's left is brass and lead...
You want them?
My name is Mike McRae, and I approved these messages.
Scotia Metalwork
Historically Accurate
Ancient Scottish Weapons
Scotia Metalwork
Historically Accurate
Ancient Scottish Weapons

"If all else fails, I will retreat up the valley of Virginia, plant my flag on the Blue Ridge, rally around the Scotch-Irish of that region and make my last stand for liberty amongst a people who will never submit to British tyranny whilst there is a man left to draw a trigger."
                                                                                                                            G. Washington


The Marines do not ask how many the enemy number, but where they are.

"Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch. Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote." 
                                                                                                                                                       
My memory's not as sharp as it used to be.
Also, my memory's not as sharp as it used to be.

Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.
                                                                                                    Benjamin Franklin

In wine there is truth. In beer there is strength. In water there is bacteria.

The message that was in this spot was removed due to its having offended the politically correct sensibilities of one reader as being patently racist.
This message had to do with the Confederate battle flag.
I would offer to this person the view that some of our Native Peoples hold: that the US flag is one that represents to them something other than that of the land of milk and honey.
(See the latest news about the Dakota Access Oil Pipeline as regards the Standing Rock Tribe as just one example. Hasn't the government done enough to these people?)

I served in the US Marine Corps, enlisting at age 17. I carried a rifle in Vietnam for two years, and yet feel no need for self aggrandizement. I have fought under and for,
and bled for the same flag under which those people in North Dakota live. Should the United States stop raising the National Ensign because of what it represents to just a few?
I state resoundingly NO! The Stars and Bars and the Stars and Stripes represent independence to some and oppression to others.

I am a patriot. I have (and if need arises) and will take up arms again in defence of the flag and country I hold most dear. To that offended reader I would say
people hold different views as regards the symbols in our lives, some that we may not agree with. Vehemently! But is that not a right that you and I swore holy oath to defend?

No one in my own line ever owned a slave. I find the idea repulsive that one person should think they have the right to "own" another.
But many of my family still fought on the side of the Confederacy. And for that I am as proud as I am of those of my family that fought at
Sherrifmuir and Culloden against the English And the Union Jack.




In a single lifetime;
Few men will ever align themselves with you.
Fewer men will ever go to a gunfight with you.
Even fewer men are willing to face death with you; should the occasion arise.
Choose wisely whom you trust to stand by your side.....
“I won't be wronged. I won't be insulted. I won't be laid a-hand on.
I don't do these things to other people, and I require the same from them.”
                                                      John B. Books,  Shootist

                                                                                                   


Today's rain is tomorrow's whisky.

                                                                   Old Scottish Proverb