Speaker John Boehner like me, NOT my father.

11 Jan

Some mention was made here in Sumpnado, of the Speaker of the House of Representatives, in USA, John Boehner, who, like me, is programmed with an unlucky throw of the gene-pool dice to cry at a touch of the horse-hair to the cat-gut.

It is all in the brain wiring. My father was NOT a cryer. He took the death of his mother (who was born in Braunton, Devon, and raised four children in York) stoically.

Until a certain evening and a certain song…

Before the gramophone aka phonograph were invented, people made their own music. The working class poor had singing, whistling, clog dancing, and rude noises, poor souls.

The upper-middle class (newly enriched by the industrial revolution, their own imagination, and their own greed) and the upper class itself (descendants from bandits and thugs) had whatever their income, and their in-house talent, could support.

My class at birth, the upper-working and lower-middle class, much varying in wealth, typically had a piano in the front, aka drawing, room, and maintained a tradition called a musical evening.

From what I was told, one particular musical evening took place, in the late 1930s, just before I was born, not very long after my father’s mother had died. The songs were Victorian and Edwardian ballads, of course.

Father had manned up to having been born with no fingers on his left hand (except one joint of the fore-finger and one joint of the thumb) and his left foot rotated inwards about 30 degrees.

He had manned up to choosing to attend the meetings of his evangelical new faith, rather that his father’s Church of England, and thus had to leave home to sleep in a tent on Strensall Common, then the Knavesmire.

On the aforementioned evening somebody sang Mother McCree…

Oh I love the dear silver that shines in her hair.
And the brow that’s all furrowed and wrinkled with care.
I love the dear fingers so toil-worn for me.
Oh… God bless you, and keep you, Mother McCree…

That did it. He was gone. That was the dam buster…

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One Response to “Speaker John Boehner like me, NOT my father.”

  1. Vincent January 12, 2011 at 4:35 pm #

    Oh I CRY TOO! All SORTS of weird things do it for me. But I’d NEVER do it on TV!

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