This is my brother Eamon when he was about five or six. In those days he spent a lot of his time with the family next door who loved him to bits.
Sammy, who we buried yesterday, honed his parenting skills on Eamon, which meant that when he had his own children he was already skilled in the fine art of rearing (and spoiling) weans.
I was a cruel big sister and I remember that during the Big Freeze of 1963, when we were snowed in, that I teased poor Eamon into hysterics about never getting down to Haveron's again. Daddy made it his priority to dig a path to Sammy's house to let Eamon visit. I think he spent the rest of the Freeze with his surrogate family.
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