a cara.....life is good ...only when it is magical and musical....a perfect timimg and consent.....you must treat the days respectfully....you must be a day yourself ....and not interrogate it like perry mason.....you must hear the birds song without attempting to render it into nouns and verbs.....for me life is like opening a can of sardines.....i must possess the key....but life is much too short to be taken seriously....my calendar reminds me april 4th....and this weekend is easter weekend.....easter is one of those moving feasts that varies from year to year....i never think to much about easter...but recently i got an e.mail from a friend who appears to enjoy reading some of my postings....and this friend suggested i write something about easter of my growing up in castlebar once upon a good time.......i considered what i might write about....and what easter memories i hold.......and yet for us irish easter is a very signifant holiday...oh! ...its sacred ....and has strong religious importance....i allowed my mind to drift back ....to those days of long ago.....those days were quite a bit different than easter today....nowadays ...as soon as valentines day is over stores flood the aisles with chocolate ...easter eggs and chocolate bunnies....but in my day....up to about 1946.....chocolate was not in great supply....one might be lucky to get a cadbury filled bar....or some sweets....their was a certain mystery about this holiday.....it was if you accept two fold.....evrything in the church was solemn...i can still see the purple covered statues and stations of the cross in the church....holy thursday was a day of solemn prayer....their was a certain sense of tragedy in the church.....people prayed in solemn shock.....we were been prepared for the good friday....and i remember good friday bore a certain sadness....this was the day on which christ died....and the service at 3 oclock was a sad sombre hushed commemoration.....for many it was also a time to remember theat the lenten penances would soon be coming to an end....i was in those days both an alar boy ,,,and choir member.....and the sacred sombre gregorian music is never forgettable....i remember fr. pat prendergast.....who was the choir master in my day leading us....i can hear the voices of my dear friend patsy twiggs in his soprano voice echo through the church in reverborating cherubical tones....and the tenor voice of brian hoban....awaken the the pores of the wooden roof span......father nohilly officiated the church services....with support from the other members of the clergy....but father nohilly....a man i remember as a very distinguished man....solemn and always in control....he held a most dignified composure that his very presence almost transported us back to those shameful days of jerusalem....easter saturday....the purple drapes of lent were removed ....and 7 am fr. pat....pat jordan could be seen lighting the paschal fire outside the church....i found this ritual inspiring.....easter sunday ....had a mysterious ring to it....for it seemed that on easter sunday....there was a wonderful excitement ...not for chocolate ...but rather....it seemed the sun seemed to dazzle and dance in the sky...it seemed to consolidate and reinforce the meaning of the risen christ.....i remember one particular easter sunday morning ...walking down towards mchale park...with my friends ...barry jennings...and iarla mongey....and i remember looking towards the sun....and indeed i saw its dance ...and yes...i felt something inside....easter sunday morning also ...presented the additional food plate....along with rashers ...white and black pudding....sausages...we got two fried eggs.....on easter monday....i used to hard boil eggs ....and colour them....put them in a bag and go back to baile na gloc....and roll them down the hill.....chasing after them....as they bounced.....then sit down ...peel the shells off and like henry the eight....have a feast....many times on these episodes ...i would also make a kite ...from light branches .....cover the frame in newspaper....add a tail.....get some string....and at the hill at baile na gloc....fly my kite....how magical to see the bowed tail of newspaper ....flutter in the wind and rise and fly....my mind would gaze at this high flying newspaper.....and imagine it flying to some exotic romantic spot....they called me a dreamer...and maybe iam...but i knew i was longing to see...those far away places with the strange sounding names...that weree calling ...callling me.....going to china or maybe siam......way up flew my kite....draped by tufts of white marshmallow clouds.....often brendan mcdonnell....would be there ...he too flying his much more precisioned kite....but we never questioned who had the better ....we enjoyed the openess and the freedom ...of wandring minds.....after some time i would then explore the rock formations.....and go and sit on the ..."armchair"......i sat in official authoritaveness....monarch of all .....i perhaps stood up and uttered some decrees.....here on this spot ...i oliver killeen am king.....holding a stick like a sceptre ...and imagining knighting my subjects.....many times at easter i used to go by the lake there...with noel mccarthy....and we often looked at the disturbed angry waters....heaving high waves...with a certain eeriness and gloom....sadly at about that time...that very lake claimed some locals.....easter too for us irish held another signifance...for it was at easter ....padraig pearse and james connoly read the proclomation of the irish republic....this was for us irish a moment of historical pride.....each and every time im in dublin....i stand across from the gpo....and let my mind get a sense of that easter rising of 1916.....i look at the structure of the gpo and bank of ireland and look for shell markings...then gaze to our flag....in pride ...humility and respect....i remember the parades ....the bands...the excitement....and in 1953 ...i was so proud as the first ....an tostal was inaugarated...it was our own commemoration of irish life.....as the days of world war 2 faded in history and chocolate became more available....i remember my father buying several easter eggs....in galway.....in to dys times the stores promote ...chocolate...eggs bunnies...and of course flowers ....but once upon a good time......god took the sun and made it dance ...dazzle and shine...and in the minds of us youngsters....he even made it bounce and hop off the mountains....the soul must feed on something for its dreams...it is the soul that sees....the outward eyes present the object....but the mind decries....this easter the village of lahardane...a village and church i know so well from my days ...of massbrook...in my lost weekend.....i a moment of time will be renacted as the titanic ....celebrations...of that tragic time 100 years ago will set off in pony and trap to castlebar station....its an event i will shre in spirit ...for the fateful tragedy of that sea disaster...is indellibly marked ...on the villagers of lahardane....to the great efforts of the organiseras ...and especially brian hoban....congratulations ....and sincere gratitude....to never let us forget.....a night to remember...my heart will go on....
happy easter.....and may the easter lilly....light up your hearts....
.....slain...agus....tog go bog e.....