As I leant upon the wheel casing, Dad tapped on the window: "See that bloke on the right with the white stuff on his face? That's Mo McCackey. When I was at D.W. Murray's I used to see all his shows at the old Tiv down in George Street. I would tear down there after work to get me shillin' ticket up with the Gods. Boy he was good. Was he good ... ... ...".
Dementia does not eat away everything. Here he delved back to somewhere between 1935 and 1939 - a mere seventy years.
5 comments:
It's amazing what they remember when something triggers a memory. I wish I was able to interview and record my parents' memories before they passed away — but they died so young and I was still too young and self-centered to even think of it. Bless you for recording this precious memory.
I'm glad to say I gathered quite a lot of family history from my parents and in-laws. It was an interest in chasing back through the family tree that triggered my interest and I collect stuff about their own lives on the way.
Nicely composed shot Julie.
Isn't it true that the early memories have carved the deepest ridges in our brains? Literally? Maybe because everything was happening for the very first time.
I like everything about this post, Julie. Your perfect weaving of image and touching story worked here to bring me back for another look two weeks later. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Raf. I am working on weaving the two, trying to avoid mere description. It is gratifying to know that someone likes that style.
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