THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF KEITH MALCOLM HUNT
Part One
I was born in a small sleepy village called Crynant, in South Wales; near the town of Neath, which is near Swansea.
The name Hunt is not Welsh, but Anglo-Saxon; in fact it is one the oldest Anglo-Saxon names on record in Britain. Yet at the same time, the “Hunt” clan lived on the border of England and Wales; so there is a good mixture of English and Welsh in our ancestry. In the 20th century my Dad’s parents were from London, moved to South Wales for work. My Mom’s mother married a Welshman. My Dad and Mom were both born in this Crynant village in South Wales, and I was born there also, on September 11th 1942. Born in my Grandmother’s house.
My Mom sad I did not start walking till I was 18 months of age, she wondered if I was ever going to stand up and walk, guess I liked crawling around. Then she said when I was walking she could not keep me from getting over the fence surrounding the house. Back to what she did about it later.
As a toddler, the first thing I remember like it was yesterday—— my Mom holding me in her arms and saying, “This pacifier your sucking on has to go, into the fireplace— there it’s gone.” I was sure upset for a few minutes.
I can well remember the garden my Grandma had— loved digging up a carrot and washing it to eat— wow super sweet they were. And I recall loving
to eat the pea pods, they were sweet also. Well everything was organic back then, right from your back-yard.
Can’t remember how I came to love coco with brown sugar, but I sure did.
I do not remember anything about the buddy down the street I played with; my Mom would often ask me when older if I remembered playing with him, I would say no I do not. I often thought that was kinda strange, not remembering playing with him.
I do remember being fascinated with all the small and big live creatures, from the lady-bug to horses. I can remember having lady-bugs on my hands, and the tingling feeling of the caterpillar walking over my arm. The birds I loved, and their singing. I loved the couple of horses in the field only a literal stone throw away. I do remember going into that field with other kids, and seeing the small river going by; I had great respect for moving water, and kept a safe distance away. It was just natural for me at age 4 and 5 to respect water, yet some toddlers sadly do not, and some end up being drowned.
One of the outstanding memories I have like it happened yesterday—— the milkman in 1945 used a horse and buggy. He would deliver the milk to the back door of the houses. He had his horse trained that with a “click” of his mouth it would start moving, when it got to the next row-house he’d say “wowww” and it would stop. He had gone to the back door of the neighbor’s house, and I “clicked” with my mouth, the horse started to walk—— there was no “wowww” so it kept going down the street—— O did I get a tongue lashing from him. Never did that again.
I also remember very well a wedding in the village. I was there outside the church to see them come out. Now it must have been the custom in South Wales, to not throw confetti but coins of money. Wow was I scrambling to pick up as much as I could; I knew what money was, and I’d be off to the “sweet-shop” in the village to satisfy my sweet tooth.
Now back to the time after I learnt to walk. Well Mom could not keep me in the yard, so she told me she said, “Okay Keith, your off to kindergarten.” And I just loved it, anything to move about and see things and other kids. But I do not remember much of it, guess nothing real special happened to keep any memories in my mind about kindergarten.
One more thing I do remember. I was 5 and there was this big party taking place out on the street close to our home—— I realized in later years it was a celebration of the end of World War 2. Nobody told me what this part was all about.
I do remember very clearly the day my Dad came home after the war.
There was this knock on the door; it opened, and there was this man with this neat Navy dress uniform on, and a huge “nap-sack.” It was my Dad. While my Dad and Mom were hugging, I was busy diving into this nap-sack to see what goodies there was for me. My Dad would sometimes tell people that his son Keith was more interested in his nap-sack than seeing him.
The first December my Dad was home, they pulled this on me. It was near to Christmas Day, well the night before, but I did not know what “Christmas” was. The evening before, they stood me in front of the fire place, and said “Now up on this ledge we’ll put a shilling [something like a quarter], and this man in white and red [Santa] will come down in the night and leave you a sweet.
Ya you guessed it, so it was. In the morning they had me again before the fireplace; my Dad put his hand up to the ledge, and out came this candy for me. Wellllll….. you guessed it also—— I fully believed there was indeed a real Santa-Claus. Believed it was some years—— was angry when I discovered it was all a lie.
That’s about it in remembering my first 5 years of life.
My Dad could not find work around this small village; relatives in Halifax, Yorkshire, told him there was plenty of work in the factories there. So we were off to a new town and country.
What made a huge impression on me, was the Steam-engine Train. We had no car; it was travel by bus or train. Standing at the train station and seeing this massive iron train, with all that steam billowing out of it, was breath-taking to me. Then getting inside, the chug to pull away, and then the rhythm of the “chug-chug” was captivating. I loved to run up and down the side corridor. It was great, but I never ever thought about being a train-driver.
Well we arrived in Halifax, at my aunt’s home. I can remember having to walk to the school they put me it, but I do not remember anything about the short time in that school. It was my Dad who years later would sometimes, among friends, tell them about the school-teacher phoning him and saying, “Mr. Hunt, would you please come to school, I need to talk to you about your son Keith.”
My Dad said he thought “Now what has Keith been up to.”
He arrived at school and the teacher said, “Mr. Hunt we asked your son, like other kids, to sand up and count up to ten. Keith stood and counted up to ten in Welsh! We were so mesmerized by his Welsh, all the teacher had him do it again before them all. But could you now please explain to him he must now learn to count to ten in English.”
My Dad had a good laugh. Apparently I had no trouble learning to count in English.
One incident after school was very unpleasant when I was walking home and the main street I had to cross. A dog was run over; I can still see the poor thing lying on the road and blood coming out of its mouth. I had never seen any animal hurt up to this time in my life. I was really sad for that poor dog.
We did not stay long in my aunty’s home.
We were moving into a house that was made for two families, well not quite, we had to share the bath-room.
So now it was off to a new school. I remember the day my Dad walked with me to show me the way, then I would be on my own going and coming home. It was many years later that I found out it was my Dad’s doing to send me to that school—— it was in the domain of the educational system under the CHURCH OF ENGLAND, or ANGLICAN CHURCH.
I was now 6 years of age. I remember just about nothing of the one year I would be in that school.
But one incident sticks in my mind like it’s branded there.
One day in the afternoon, the lady teacher said, “Okay kids we are going to have a race, put your running shoes on.”
A girl and myself were last to leave the room. I said to her, “I’m going to show you all how you run fast.”
What on earth made me say that—— I had never had a running race with anyone. I somehow just knew I could run fast. It was like a still small voice said to me, “you are a very fast runner.”
The race was on, to the wall at the bottom of the school yard and back. I flew off like a bullet; I knew how to do the correct union with arms and legs, like the world-class sprinters do.
I was at the wall and on my way back, while all the others were still heading towards the wall— I had left them as they say, in the dust.
Nothing was said to me. But a few days later I was taken up to the very large grass playing field, near to where I lived. And there were all these other teachers and this tall lad….looked like 12 inches taller than me. They put me on the spot to start to run and him also. They said when we say “go” then run to the rope 60 yards away.
GO….. I was off as fast as I could—— I tied with the other lad.
It was later that I found out what this was all about. The next school I would move up to at age 7 was the middle-school of the Church of England, ages 7 to 11. They had taken the fastest runner from that school, to see if I was as fast as my teacher must have told them I was. I did see a few teachers smile after the race was over. Guess they kinda knew what to expect from me when I was in the 7 to 11 age school.
I did not disappoint them, for after one year in the middle school, I could easily beat this fast runner in a 60 yard dash race.
During the summer my parents took me to see a cowboy movie—— no TV yet. It was a color movie of ROY ROGERS AND TRIGGER! I just about fell off my seat. Here was this fancy dressed Cowboy on a golden horse with mane and tail of white flowing in the wind, as they flew across the range to rescue a lady on a run-away horse. My eyes were as big as saucers.
I was hooked and captivated. I knew right then and there what I WANTED TO BE WHEN GROWN UP—- THE SECOND ROY ROGERS!
I knew I was born to do that, just as I knew I could run fast when in that race when I was 6 years old.
YES MY MIND WAS MADE UP—— AT AGE 18 I WOULD GO WEST AND BE A ROY ROGERS, AND GET MY HORSE LIKE TRIGGER. THERE WAS NO DOUBT IN MY MIND; I COULD AND WOULD DO IT.
So the summer had gone and I was now entering the middle school of the Church of England.
………………..
To be continued
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