This is a sort of "Where does a Wolf come from?" thing. So, I'll continue a bit further here.

My father, William James Bruce (1916-1995), taken in the early 1960s.He was born in Auckland, of a Scots father (William Bruce, born in Braemar, died 1964), and an Anglo-Irish mother, Ellen Dillon (died 1972).

He and my mother were never married. I only know of the paternal side of my heritage through 3 photos of my father, and what I've been able to pick up through public records.

I was born on 10 August 1963. This was taken sometime in 1964, at the original old house in Avondale. My grandmother Elinor is behind me at the window. I still believe that both my grandmother and my mother keep an eye on me, from time to time, and help to guide my life.

Where my mother grew up on urban streets in North London, I grew up in suburban Avondale, in an era where quarter-acre sections were still common, where I could run and dream. My earliest lessons took place in that backyard, which is still my home, four decades later. It was here, my grandmother and my mother taught me to read and write my name (in full), my home address and phone number, in case I ever got lost, and to tell the time.
My mum, taken probably only a year or two before she died on 4 September 1997, aged only 70 years old.

After a series of strokes in 1986, she always had to have a walking stick. She gradually got sicker, until diagnosed with terminal bowel cancer in May 1997.

I miss her terribly. Mum, I still love you -- my mother, the centre of my world, my friend.

She taught me a lot. Many of the lessons I've only realised were in my soul since she's been gone, and since I started to walk alone. Never give up on dreams. Look for love in people's hearts, and leave those who'd do you ill alone to their fate. Always, always offer a helping hand.


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