My love for music extends to this day. I remember being a child and listening to many different types of music. Music was always played in our house on regular basis. Both my Grandparents played the mouth organ and I am certain that is all they had in common.
My mumma would play the mouth organ in the Standard Pub. I remember her playing one particular Johnny Cash song “You are the nearest things to heaven”. We always had to have a very large radio in the house. It was our main source of entertainment. I think that our radio was called a dye radio. It was treasured and covered up when not in use.
My grandfather would always listen to the BBC world service. He also always liked to listen to boxing. His favorite boxers were Henry Cooper and Casious Clay. He was always happy listening to Boxing on the radio. It was the only time I ever saw him laugh. Mumma and I would always listen to Dear Mr. Billy Stevens radio show.
I remember that he always played songs for a young girl named Gloria March and my mumma and I would say she’s had about six songs tonight she must be very popular. We had a grammaphone and it was a large wooden box that had to be wound up. We didn’t mind winding it up as we liked the music.
One morning I woke up and heard the most beautiful music. I jumped out of bed to find my Uncle Alton had come home from the Acension islands and had bought a new record player with loads of records. Some of the records were Hank Williams, Kitty Wells and Jim Reeves.
I was so happy my mumma loved Hank Williams while I liked Kitty Wells. I was so happy that I almost forgot about Poppa and his spitefulness. It was sad when my cousin Arnold Henry drowned in a fishing accident. Poppa said that we had to show respect and we were not allowed to play any music for a whole week. Poppa was kind sometimes but not to me he wasn’t.
Music was always played in our house and it was mainly Hank Williams. It felt like background music for a violent film only that I was in the horror film, the smashed doors the broken furniture smash cups and plates. We were both in the house of horror and there was no way out of it.
For mumma her way out was death and for me it was a new foster home in Jamestown.