Looking back on my half century life (so far to date and counting !) I got to thinking just how far back could I actually remember. After digging deep I can say my earliest memory, albeit a bit vague, was from 1963, sitting on my dad's shoulders by the side of the old Dublin airport road winding it's way into the city, otherwise known these days as the R132. Irish people never really use formalities such as lettering and numbering of motorways or national routes, we tend to call them by the name of where they finally end up ! Such examples are ...the M1 (the new Belfast/Dublin road or the N3..... the Galway road, ... you get the idea. Anyway,I digress.....
I was a happy go lucky little three year old sitting on my dad's shoulders waiting to get a glimpse of J.F K passing by with his entourage on their way firstly to Dublin City, and later to his ancesteral home in Wexford. It wasn't long after his return to the USA and Dallas he was assissanated. It was good to see him alive and well on that day in '63. We all waved as they rolled by in their big open-top cars and he gave a smile and a wave as he looked my way over the top of crowds of people lining the pavement to get a glimpse of him and his wife. Did he smile and wave at just me that day ?... it seemed that way and I always like to think he did. Mind you, standing on that wall in Santry many years later John Paul II did the same waving bit to me as JFK had done on his way past me many years before on the old road into Dublin City from the Airport !. He too took a bullet from an assissan a while later, but he survived ! So these days if people ask me did I see the queen or Obama I say...don't ask ! I don't want to tempt fate !!
Best Paulie ..
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
Saturday, 4 June 2011
Life's little trauma's
It is said that we never really forget the trauma's in our lives, be they small or large. Some we try to bury deep in our subconcious but no matter how deep down they are, they come to the surface once in a while. And that my friends is exactly what I am going to share with you all.
Picture the scene. A bunch of young kids, ranging from ten years old down to six years, or thereabouts. Its summer holidays and school reopens in another two months. Its sunny and humid and its June1966. Not a care in the world, not that we knew much of it at such a young age.
The only concern was to be home in time for Batman on the little black and white TV my dad had bought and a bath in the little galvanized tub in front of the coal fire as was the ritual every Saturday night !. After jumping the crossing stones of our local, but little nameless river, a stream really, and walking along the furrows of the acres of potato fields and not across the potato plants, as we were taught not to do by the adults of our little .... village ?.. no...not really a village, but a lane with eighteen 1940's built cottages either side about kilometer off any road of importance, so we neared our little row of cottages we knew as home.
One more stop at O' Donoghues pig farm wall to look over at piglets and the huge sows in thier pens, a bunch of spikey haired heads peeping over the farmers wall, flicking red ants away from our noses as we listened to the squealing and grunting of the occupants within. I had listened to the grown-ups talking about how the pigs made you thirsty, especially their feet, or as they called them, trotters. I wasn't sure how they did this to you, but I remember the big people sometimes going drinking at night, so I supposed this had something to do with it !.
One last obstacle to negotiate to get home for the hardy warriors ...... the local dairy herd. We had walked our way through these mighty beasts on many occasions, and it was second nature to us to walk amongst them, but on this faithful day it wasn't the cows that got me but the dreaded electric fence that kept them from wandering off. We were wary of this contraption as we had heard stories of what could happen if you touched the wires.
One by one, our little troop jumped the wire. First Jimmy, tall and wiry, then Gerry, the head honcho of our group. Next Noel, a bit gangly but he had the height and strength. Second from last was one of Jimmy's younger brothers Willy, or affectionatly known as Booney whom resides in California these days. One by one a cheer went up as each brave soul beat the fence. Then it was my turn.... I had been sceptical I could jump that high as I was the youngest and smallest of the bunch. I remember looking at this wire, glinting in the sunshine and the white box on the post humming, thinking I must make it over or I'll miss Batman if I have to go the long way home, and on my own too. My folks drilled it into me never to stray off on my own, or the bad men would put me in a sack and I'll never be seen again ! So, deep breath and run for all my worth. One step,then two, three, four and up. One leg over now the other..... then this unmerciful jolt through my leg and I land in a heap on the other side of the fence. The tears come to my eyes as I hear someone saying .... he's dead, the fence has killed him!. I mutter... I'm not dead but I feel funny.
He's going to die soon someone whispered , it takes ten minutes for the shock to find your head and make it go asleep! Well, to say I was scared out of my wits is an understatement ! At that moment I felt terrified I was dieing ! The tears welled in my eyes.Finally, somebody else says to put water all over me to stop me going up in flames. They had seen it on TV and it would work on me !
At this stage I'll try anything to head off the impending doom about to befall me, so we headed straight for the water pump outside the cottage and with one lad pumping and everybody else splashing water on me I got a right soaking.The ten minutes passed agonizingly slowly but my head stayed alive and the deadline passed without incident, and so I knew I would live a while longer. We were a tight-knit bunch back then and word spread that my life was saved by my good friends, hero's all. I asked my dad later that day, after Batman was over , why I didn't die from the electric wire ?, and his reply was that it only killed cows !! That was okay by me! This near death encounter played only a small part in my life, but to me it was a major trauma on that day in June 1966 in Turnipin Lane in North County Dublin, and has always stayed ingrained in my memory, and probably has made me more careful these days of not getting my wires crossed... if you get my drift !
Picture the scene. A bunch of young kids, ranging from ten years old down to six years, or thereabouts. Its summer holidays and school reopens in another two months. Its sunny and humid and its June1966. Not a care in the world, not that we knew much of it at such a young age.
The only concern was to be home in time for Batman on the little black and white TV my dad had bought and a bath in the little galvanized tub in front of the coal fire as was the ritual every Saturday night !. After jumping the crossing stones of our local, but little nameless river, a stream really, and walking along the furrows of the acres of potato fields and not across the potato plants, as we were taught not to do by the adults of our little .... village ?.. no...not really a village, but a lane with eighteen 1940's built cottages either side about kilometer off any road of importance, so we neared our little row of cottages we knew as home.
One more stop at O' Donoghues pig farm wall to look over at piglets and the huge sows in thier pens, a bunch of spikey haired heads peeping over the farmers wall, flicking red ants away from our noses as we listened to the squealing and grunting of the occupants within. I had listened to the grown-ups talking about how the pigs made you thirsty, especially their feet, or as they called them, trotters. I wasn't sure how they did this to you, but I remember the big people sometimes going drinking at night, so I supposed this had something to do with it !.
One last obstacle to negotiate to get home for the hardy warriors ...... the local dairy herd. We had walked our way through these mighty beasts on many occasions, and it was second nature to us to walk amongst them, but on this faithful day it wasn't the cows that got me but the dreaded electric fence that kept them from wandering off. We were wary of this contraption as we had heard stories of what could happen if you touched the wires.
One by one, our little troop jumped the wire. First Jimmy, tall and wiry, then Gerry, the head honcho of our group. Next Noel, a bit gangly but he had the height and strength. Second from last was one of Jimmy's younger brothers Willy, or affectionatly known as Booney whom resides in California these days. One by one a cheer went up as each brave soul beat the fence. Then it was my turn.... I had been sceptical I could jump that high as I was the youngest and smallest of the bunch. I remember looking at this wire, glinting in the sunshine and the white box on the post humming, thinking I must make it over or I'll miss Batman if I have to go the long way home, and on my own too. My folks drilled it into me never to stray off on my own, or the bad men would put me in a sack and I'll never be seen again ! So, deep breath and run for all my worth. One step,then two, three, four and up. One leg over now the other..... then this unmerciful jolt through my leg and I land in a heap on the other side of the fence. The tears come to my eyes as I hear someone saying .... he's dead, the fence has killed him!. I mutter... I'm not dead but I feel funny.
He's going to die soon someone whispered , it takes ten minutes for the shock to find your head and make it go asleep! Well, to say I was scared out of my wits is an understatement ! At that moment I felt terrified I was dieing ! The tears welled in my eyes.Finally, somebody else says to put water all over me to stop me going up in flames. They had seen it on TV and it would work on me !
At this stage I'll try anything to head off the impending doom about to befall me, so we headed straight for the water pump outside the cottage and with one lad pumping and everybody else splashing water on me I got a right soaking.The ten minutes passed agonizingly slowly but my head stayed alive and the deadline passed without incident, and so I knew I would live a while longer. We were a tight-knit bunch back then and word spread that my life was saved by my good friends, hero's all. I asked my dad later that day, after Batman was over , why I didn't die from the electric wire ?, and his reply was that it only killed cows !! That was okay by me! This near death encounter played only a small part in my life, but to me it was a major trauma on that day in June 1966 in Turnipin Lane in North County Dublin, and has always stayed ingrained in my memory, and probably has made me more careful these days of not getting my wires crossed... if you get my drift !
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)