After small-talk the conversation settled down for a time. The stranger gazed into the campfire and toyed with the tip of his moustache. I guess we were all hypnotized by the flames because when he spoke, it felt like I had been shocked awake.
“I was a child at the time, no more than eight years of age.” He fell to silence for a while and then, as if he just remembered he had an audience straightened up and looked at us. “That would have made it 1972, or so, and Uncle Dick was grey around the whiskers even then.” He paused while Gary and I exchanged a nervous giggle.
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