Hall of Fame

Tommy felt a little self-conscious wandering around South Dakota in 2025 in winklepickers. He had no need to really. After all he had travelled all the way here for the induction of his mother-in-law Irene into the South Dakota Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. It was a strange journey to have made for a son of Barnsley.

He had been intrigued by the possibility when it was first mentioned, but now, standing here at the foot of this overly sentimental lump of rock, he regretted coming.

At University he had read and devoured Thomas Paine’s The Age of Reason. It had seemed to him at the time to chime perfectly with his own rejection of his Christian background. He had also devoured most of the great American novelists and between them and Paine he had come to see America, as something to aspire to.

Today, though, this felt like a very different place. Just that morning Trump had hinted that he thought he should be the latest edition to Mount Rushmore. Tommy looked up at the mountain and felt a wave of nausea rise up. The combination of the heat, all of his thoughts about being in the USA at all in 2025, and the burger he had eaten for lunch seemed to be conspiring against his vow to maintain his cool for the sake of Irene.

It had been a big shock when Sandra first revealed her mum’s musical past. An even bigger one when she began performing again. First the clubs and pubs of West Yorkshire, then the modest UK tour and finally being drawn back to her roots in Sturgis and a whole series of concerts of increasing size.

When they lost Sandra, Irene had been broken. It was only the music that had kept her going, so Tommy felt that this trip, despite his misgivings, was the least he could do for her.

He had a strong word with himself and made his way back down the path to the rented jeep that he had tried to enjoy driving.

The ceremony was held in a hall that looked so uncomfortably like the MAGA venues he had seen on television that Tommy nearly walked out again. Sandra stopped him of course, or at least the still vivid picture of her that he carried in his head did (how long would that last he wondered for the umpteenth time?).

It was Irene’s moment and suddenly there she was: tiny, grey-haired, slightly stooped, twinkling, despite herself at the standing ovation. Her speech of course dwelt on the loss of her daughter, but also on the joy of their life together. Then suddenly Tommy was blinded by a spotlight.

‘And finally, I want to hear it for Tommy – he’s here for me today, despite everything he must be feeling. I don’t know what I’d do without him’

More applause for him this time and people near him patting him on the back and shaking his hand. It drowned, just for a moment, his judgement of the masses that had turned the country he had grown up idolizing into such a hell hole of hate and prejudice. It wasn’t much to go on of course, but it was warmth towards a stranger. It would have to do for now.