Cache in Hand

At my age, an unrestrained brain decides, with increasing frequency and in modern parlance, to clear the cache. It consigns to a metaphorical trashcan memories that, in its opinion, I no longer need and am unlikely to use. Sometimes it is a blessing; there are many things in my past that I would rather forget (we all have them). At other times, the brain’s unilateral and undiscriminating clearing of the cache obliterates some little treasures and pleasantries that, if left intact, would provide comfort through dotage.
Fortunately, the brain—like any computer—has a fail-safe mechanism, nothing is ever completely deleted.  There is always a way to retrieve information, or in this case a memory.  It happened to me the other day when I saw the above picture.
Of course, I knew what it was immediately. Nevertheless, I had completely forgotten them until someone posted the picture and the embedded question on Facebook. It is the floor dimmer switch used in most vehicles from 1927 through to about 1975 when they were placed on the steering wheel, where in fact they were before 1927. Now that you, like me, remember them, I wonder whether you, like me, are drawn to the question: which configuration is better? I am inclined to the floor mount because of the number of times I am late in dimming my lights while I fumble around in the darkness trying to find the stalk.
However much of everything above is a digression. The point I am trying to make is that it often takes one event to trigger another—one long forgotten. It took the Facebook posting to remind me of floor dimmers. It took the death of Christopher Lee today to remind me of Dennis Wheatley. We all know of Lee, though without his appearance in Lord of the Rings, he too may have been consigned to a trashcan. However, who remembers Dennis Wheatley?
I do.
Wheatley through a mammoth series of thriller and occult novels from the 30s right though to the 70s was one of the best selling authors of the era. Probably his best known was the Duke de Richelieu satanic series, which when turned into films by Hammer Studios stared Lee as the formidable and stately Duke. But Wheatley was a prolific author and he had an avid readership, I included, that spanned the world and sated many an adolescent thirst for adventure, fear and the prurient.
Yet, now he is forgotten.
Sir Christopher Lee, however, is not. For a modern generation he will be remembered most as Saruman, the wicked wizard from the Lord of Rings trilogy. For an earlier generation he will be remembered as the eponymous Man with the Golden Gun opposite Roger Moore. However, there is one role that eclipses both and is still remembered and revered by all generations:
Dracula.
Christopher Lee was the definitive Dracula in those Hammer horrors. No other actor could have brought that Stoker creation to life—literally—with so much majesty and malevolence and sheer vampiric horror than Lee. In these days of Twilight, that should not be forgotten.
Nor will it, I think. Sir Christopher Lee, like Dracula, the character he made his own, is immortal.
Rest in Peace Sir Christopher.
If you can.