When my grandmother’s hair started falling out she began wearing wigs. When her hair started growing back she gave me her wigs so I could make use of them in my “shows”.
I ended up using all her wigs in one of my “shows”.
When I told my grandfather I occasionally cross-dressed, he dug out an old photo of him dressed in his sister’s clothes for a fancy dress party in 1925 in Goondiwindi. Cross-dressing is cross-generational it seems.
Here we are in 1975. My grandfather teaching me how to skim a rock across the surface of a creek.
Here we are Christmas 2005. My beloved grandmother and I. The last time I saw her.