he was literally so sexy for this god bless
[Transcript:
Jack: My father was a tailor, in Leeds. As was his father, and his father’s father. Time was, if a man on the Avendale road asked where he might find the finest clothes in northern England, he was pointed towards the shop of a man named Rackham. Then, the men who sell wool decide they prefer not to compete with the men who import fine cotton, and as the men who sell wool have the ears of the men who make the laws, an embargo is enacted to increase profits, and calico disappears. And my father’s business, that he inherited from his father, and his father’s father, begins to wither and die. And my father suffers the compound shame of financial failure seen through the eyes of his son, and he descended into drink.
I’d sit beside him as a boy at the Sunday service as he shouted at the pastor, at the altar, at anyone who’d listen really, at the injustice of it all. And I’d put his arm over my shoulder as the insults began, help carry him out of the church, God the insults. At his funeral, our neighbors were kind enough to whisper them rather than call them out loud.
So, I set to work, determined to rebuild what had been taken away. I was thirteen years old, but I was determined. Until a man arrived at my door claiming to hold debts belonging to my father - debts accumulated as my father drank, debts he claimed that now belonged to me, debts I could not possibly have hoped to repay. Debts over which this man would’ve seen me imprisoned. Imprisoned at a place where the debts would’ve been discharged only through hard labor. Hard labor at no wages, working at, wait for it, the production of textiles.
‘You people, incapable of seeing the world as it is.’ Says the man to whom the world handed everything. If no Anne, if no rescue, if this is defeat for me, then know this. You and I were neck and neck in this race, right till the end, but Jesus did I make up a lot of ground to catch you.]
