My father wrote:
I remember it well. It's seared into my consciousness, as surely as those branding irons that became popular recently for in the garden with the grill. You leave it in the coals until the steaks are done to perfection, then sear an 'R', 'M' or 'W' into the top before dishing up. It's a little more elegant than those little plastic tags you sometimes get in cheap restaurants. More classy.
It was a different life, back then. Total change; almost nothing in common. 'Steak' was unheard of in our family, though there were those in the village who enjoyed fillet and rib-eye fresh from the cow; fresh from our cows, should any of those make it to slaughter free of disease. They called it tax, and we certainly felt it taxing as we made do with oxtail and tongue. Foremost in our minds was the consequence of rebellion, the consequence even of being distrusted. Life was four thousand miles away from here, geographically, and metaphorically more.
We ate the dregs of anything, and enjoyed it. It was all we had, and it was what we craved. We knew our place and they knew theirs. And all the while, secretly through it all, my mother worked hard to push us forward, to help us reach further up the ladder than ever before. We took lessons in reading, secretly learning what others learned openly. I made the mistake of showing my favourite book to my grandmother once, thrilled at the way these simple, black and white shapes turned into meaning. Her reaction shocked me: she tore the book from my hands, flung it into the fire and said it was dirty. I cried, burning my hands as I tried to retrieve the fluttering feathers of a phoenix doomed to be the last of its kind, unresurrected. After a tremendous argument with my mother I was warned never again to show I could read. I didn't agree, but I kept it to myself after that.
I remember it all so well. This filthy childhood, an existence that then seemed the way it was. Somewhere, I decided life would be different for my kids. Better.
He wrote, I read; openly, in public. And after that, I felt different about my childhood. Thankful.
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