Personal Narrative: The Cost Of A Click

The Cost of a Click.

It all started with a voice, one that I recognized from duets, and group choruses. It had always stood out to me, strong, passionate, unique. It was a voice I admired, a voice that spoke to me. When I listened to him sing I could hear the emotion, I could feel the sorrow behind the ballad, and the joy within the jig. Click, his name was Tommy Makem. He had eyes full of wisdom, and the voice of an angel. In his younger days he wanted to be an actor, he left his home in Ireland, and moved to New York to pursue his dream. An act that took courage that I wish I could have. Click, he is singing with Liam Clancy, he is in his late forties, there are patches of grey hair framing his slender face, and the gentle lines around his eyes communicate to the child inside me that knows that he has stories,

He is wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a brown leather vest. When he sings he holds his head high, and there is a royal charm about him. Click, he is with all three of the Clancy Brothers this time, the video is in black and white, and I hear the fluttering of film in the background. He is so young, his hair is parted on the side, and the front is oiled up in a cowlick-curl. His sweater sleeves are partially rolled up, and his voice flows smooth and sweet along with the supporting chorus of backup singers, and adoring fans. Click, "I used to sing this to my grandkids." "Makes