In Reply to: Re: golden memories posted by MC on August 19, 2008 at 00:00:58:

a cara...agus beannact leat,its good to know my reflections brought a smile to your heart....re: the computer i must confess i am but an old man playing with a new toy...but thank you for the information re correctly writing gaelic...sine fada...etc;but i will continue to write it as i remember....i believe the format different than when i went to school changed to make it easier for the kids to write and read....
i was amaember of connradh na gaelge with marcus o'flahertty.....and we had much good times on friday nights in tech....another time however...recanting these golden memories reminds me how the sense of community was well established on mchale road long before social conscience became the norm.....we in mchale road way back then had so much to contend with...in a comparison we were as the people felt in harlem...but we did stand tall and hold our heads up and like it or not those that felt condescending towards us had to come to mchale road to go to mchale park...and park their bicycles with dick dunne for sixpence...our memories are a storehouse of sentiment, fondnessess joys and sorrowsof yesterday ...they are in fact the experiences and influences that kept some of us sane in lifes inferno....by emoting these memories does not mean we wish things stayed as they were way then for change and growth are the fuel for a better life....gibran wrote in his work ...the prophet...."for life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday...."but life in my day was much more uncomplex....i love castlebar....i love more mchale road....where else could you get such a compendium of personalities as peter horkan....the wrrington sisters later took up residence in that house....i rember going to a show in the town hall along with bridie and mary warrington...and laughing with them until my sides burst...we would watch johnny scriney with his cart and a barrel of tar filling pot holes on the road....there with johnny would be john moylett, jonh coghlin and johnny's father michael scriney...they be shouting at us to keep away from the fresh tar...joe mc ginn lived in number 1 his monumental works were across the street... he had a worker from keelogues working with him...his name leaves memory...but i do remeber him well....but one rather funny story of joe was ...he advertised for apprentices....well danno rainsford and george conway filled the bill....joe had them work their asses off for a week , naturally on friday night the boys were looking for a few bob...so they approached joe in his office.....joe looked at them and in his hackneyed voice...replied...bedad.,huh.pay....bedad you should be paying me ....your apprentices...needless to say the boys were out of a job and joe was out of handy labour...joe about that time bought a hillman minx....it was certainly a beauty.....for the day it had all the bells and whistles...but joe was noted for one driving characteristic......5 miles an hour ...once he was going up luddens hill towrds town....walking was myself and sean cunningham....joe winding down his window ..called ....bedad young cunningham...young killeen can i give you a lift down town....sean ...looked over at joe ....and replied ....no thanks joe ....i'm in a hurry....joe later left the road and bought a house on mons terrace...later he built a house on the station road opposite maryland...noel his son was in my class ....noel collected the wrappers from lollipops and on sending them in got a football...a genuine pigskin football....i lived at number 10 encased between the musical genius of willy keane and paddy guthrie.....when they both went into rehearsal i loved it ...but it did not go down to well with others....eddy roy lodged for awhile with the guthries later he went to stay at madam bourkes....numbers 5, 6, 7, mcdonnells , fallons, brodie omalleys, had manicured front gardens ....beware any balls that got in there,paddy guthrie lived in number 11....before them annie may brennan[cunningham],john brennan and pierce [bobo]and i were life time friends, i rember a week of frivolity with john in cleveland ohio 1957....pierce and i downed far too many pints in garavans and hobans....nora sweeney lived at number 12 ....and her family ....and her mother mrs. heavey...at that time we used to call her "the queen"...but my long talks with her are memorable..jimmy sweeney was in my class .....and patricia and kathleen were my dearest friends ...particularly patricia...tish...how much fun we had together....john moylett had the nicest hedge ...i often wondered how he clipped it so professionally.....paddy[scals, joady[ rocky]..polly, bridie were good friends...peggy their mother used to make the most delicious apple and rhubarb pies...she often treated me liberally to slices...tommy conway and family lived next door....george, donal pierce , arthur, john, and beatrice i also called friends ...i rember when tom junior died in a hospital in england and the night his body arrived back home at the railroad station....sonny guthrie was in number15...how he pounded that big drum in parades.....kathleen cassidy lived next door with jack and bill.....bill was sort of the town crier and rang a bell....jack posted posters that let us know when circusses were coming to town...i remember the year went to scotland to pick potatoes....it was indeed an event.....he left on a morning steam train .....kathleen three days later was crying her concerns to mrs heavey....i wonder how poor jack is in scotland....when suddenly a youngster went to sweeneys to announce .....kathleen....jack is banging at the door to get in....asked later why he was home or what happened ...jack replied ...theres no religion over there.....jack was also noted for carrying a bag of turf on his shoulders ....having carried it in from some bog in aughadrina.....the bog there evokes another memory......another story another time from once upon a good time ....i have had alot of time to read...in recent and not so recent years...and this work comes to mind...
matthew arnold wrote ......
but often in the worlds most crowded street....but often in the din of strife ....there rises an unspeakable desire...afterr the knowledge of our buried life ....a thirst to spend our fire and restless force....in tracking our true original course ....a longing to inquire....into the mystery of this heart which beats...so wild so deep in us ...to know....whence our lives come and where they go...
ac anois t-am go teig in eag... agus ....dun mo mbheal.........slan....agus tog go bog e....caislean an bharraigh go deo....agus bothair mic heil....go raibh mile maith agat....