just another ex-jazz-musician/proto-rapper/Jersey-Irish-poet-actor/print-junkie/film-raptor/beat-hipster-"white Negro"-rhapsodizer/ex-hippie-punk-'60s-radical-organizer's take on all things cultural, political, spiritual & aggrandizing
Thursday, September 29, 2016
BEFORE I WAS BORN
My father Jimmy (James A. Lally, the balder one) and my uncle Lydie (given name Michael Lydon Lally, and yes I did discuss his name with Johnny Rotten aka John Lydon at a party back in my Hollywood days and it turned out his Irish grandparents came from near mine) in the late 1930s, at some event that seems to have required tags and a photo...my Uncle Lydie was a charming rascal, as you can probably tell from this shot, who won a singing contest on the radio in the '30s, during The Great Depression, and even though he and most everyone was broke and needed money for living, he took the prize money and threw a giant party in a tavern in Union, New Jersey, with hams and barrels of beer etc. and invited all the clan and neighborhood (my family was living in Union at the time)...