Early images
The flood of memories continues. You have to accept that my first few years were not verbal, so if the recall seems simple… that’s the way it works. I was a handsome kid, based on a photograph that surfaced recently, and my clothes were in shades of grey. No, hold on, that’s because the photo was one of those snapshots that came out of the local photo developer’s counter. We had a Kodak Brownie camera, and the colour film was expensive.
The roads weren’t paved, back then; I have a distinct memory of my footprints in the dust, as we crossed the road to the store. No mud equals no rain that day. My world was limited to the house, the station, my grandfather’s house, the people next door.
In fact, I recall the night the barn burned down, next door. I could feel the heat, through the window. I wasn’t given any role as a firefighter, but it happened (found the report in an online newspapers, although the date confuses me, as I was older by a couple of years than initially calculated). I’ve called out to my mother for clarification on this one, as she may have told me about what I remember. The danger of infant recall.
I know that we had a kitchen stove (how else would I have received hot food in a world where the microwave oven didn’t yet exist). And given the preference of my father for Kemac burners, it had a fuel tank on a stand. No proof, but it might have looked (a lot) like this.
