You're not as old as I am. My dad was a communist because his family was dirt poor, and he was clever, and he saw the injustices in the society he lived in, where the rich leeched off the poor. As a Uni graduate (he travelled 10 miles by bicycle every day to Liverpool to go to Uni) he couldn't get a job, finally ending up in Poor Law. And, when the war came, although he was a pacifist, and had TB, he joined up to battle against Hitler.
My dad was communist party agent for the candidate who stood against Harold Wilson in Huyton. He was always an idealist. I never espoused his politics, and after Stalin, he had a bit of a wake-up call. And then he joined a golf club. He became a teacher, when he should have been a barrister. But, true to his commie ideals, he served through the war as Private, and never revealed to the RAF, that he had a good degree.
Fortunately, his humour, dry and incredibly funny, was his saving grace. I wish it could have saved his life, and I suppose it saved his soul, and his capacity to deal with his death from lung disease, twenty years ago.
He's not my hero, but he treated me as an equal from the moment I was born, which means a lot to a woman. I'm a life-long socialist, thanks to him, but a libertarian socialist who won't take instructions from anyone. Thanks dad. You were bloody good. You taught me everything I am.
I miss him.
