...a cara....castlebar today celebrates its pride in having a local son as taoiseact....it has had may celebrated sons ....in many areas....politicians....footbal heroes...and the current arch diocesan bishop.....but before those ....there was another man who brought celebration ..and attention to the geographic spine of the town...the spine is the legendary thoroughfare...that i feel in my veins....mchale road....in the dark days of the thirties....and for many years after it bore a stigma .....it was a wrongful attack on the the artery that is an integral section of the county town....in the hostile ...and impoverished times of the '40's one after another donkey and carts hawked their wares on mchale road.....the many vendors peddled their turf...their vegetables ...their milk...eggs....and bread ....the road in those times was a rough tarred surface....with as many potholes ...as found in the beatles ....blackburn lancashire....the side walks were made of clay stone and tar....they were hard to the soles of the feet in the days we didnt wear shoes....and hard on big toes when we banged them on protruding stones....mc hale road was an enigma of sorts....to the strangers...and outsiders ...it was condemned ...it was bara bing alley...labelled of uncouth residents....to the mchale roadites...it was home...a joy and blessing....from joe mcgings.....to holians.......from peter horkans....to oboyles.....the 116 house community was vibrant....and alive....it was a collage of many things....shops...two....pinky prendergasts....and peter omaleys.....a barber willy ocallaghan....and enough music rang from the roof to complete a symphony orchestra.....the road was recognised as a good place to trade....and those from downtown that raised pigs etc...knew mchale road could produce enough leftovers and waste to keep their pigs fed....martin brady....the murphy brothers billy and vincent were daily collectors of leftovers.....mchale park ...could not be described as ...a theatre of dreams...or a...stadium of light....no ...it was a park fenced in rough ....broken and hanging galvanize....it had hardly a proper entrance gate...and the playing surface was a rough ...soggy pitch...with goal posted ends...the dressing room...was a shack...no bigger than a car garage....with a shower head ...for the brave of heart that shower stall...when the cord was pulled....delivered ice cold....chilling saleen lake water.....no massage or therapy tables here....and for players the walk to the arena...was often a stroll through ankle ...or higher mud....the bacon factory stood large in the background......often wafting its many nose plugging aromas....the 116 houses on the road were filled to the rafters ...the road rang in comraderie ...and community spirit....for us children in those days the roadway was our playing surface......we played football....rounders ...pitch and toss....hop scotch....road tennis....and marbles on it....each household produced multiple children....and we all banded together in a fusion of roadite fellowship.....for many in those times it was tough....but the parade of workers to the bacon factory every day brought stability to the tough war times....the pride of spirit of the roadies infused hope and optimism.....there was no mention of prozac....or psycotherapy....a good neigbourly chat relieved worries and anxieties....the road embryoed a spirit of community which forever prevailed.....residents left their doors open....and failte...was the sentiment....and out of this family oriented incubator came a man who for me was a man of distinction....why ...he was'nt even born on the road ....or ireland even.....he and his brother came to ireland via liverpool.....in the strangest of circumstances after a breakfast of kippers and toastarrived in ireland ...and came to mchale road....his early education was of course in st. patricks...and a short stint in st. geralds....he was an average student.....and dropped out of st. geralds...and studied in the tech.......but one of his features was his many friends...who seemed to always trffic in and out of his house....he was serious ....and light....but had a sun warming smile.....mouseen mchale...john joe hughes....j.p.and malachy oboyle...margo reynolds....miceal and paddy clarke....sonny delaney....joe and christy whittaker ...john ..tommy...and roger fallon....roy lindsey....were regular fixtures in his house....in other parts of the town he had another host of friends...like the glynn brothers....colm kilcoyne ...bennie martin...john joe sweeney....joe malone....the mcneely and harrington families....and he had a special female friend ...a may burk from staball.....during the emergency...he enlisted in the red cross....and later worked for the county council in the bogs at kilboyne.....he never got too involved in sports...but liked hurling....during his teens ...he became very friendly with a local clergy....fr. say it fast....kearney....nothing remarkable seen at first glance ...but when fr. kearney began to visit his house....one wondered...but this mystery was solved when he was seen in langans getting a white shirt....black suit and tie......yes he had a vocation....and one monday morning in septemberin 1946 he headed off for wilton college in cork.....here he would complete his secodary education...which he did....on his holidays he got involved in many thigs in the town....until he went away again to kilcolgan in galway...where he would remain in noviate ...study and prayer......this was completed in 1950....on his return to castlebar...again he worked at many things...including the cleaning of the backroads ...behind the houses on mchale road....his friendships continued with his many friends...and soon again he went away again to drmantine seminary in newry.....here he continued his theological studies...and it was kind of stunning to see him in his role of deacon ...complete with roman collar....but on his various holidays....he removed his clerical attire and again got involved in many work projects....one of these was his novel...and other writings....he had many stories published....in 1954 he was ordained in newry cathedral.....i remember his first mass so well....but one of the things i will never forget is the spirit of mchale road.....a host of residents....josie mcdonnell....chas. guthrie.....nellie devanney...martha ruanne...mary flynn....bridgie guthrie.....nell keane...formed a committee....organised a couple of dances...made collections....carnivalised the street in bunting and flags ....and on his return to mchale road....had his mentor fr. kearney present him with a gold chalice.....the road again feted its new priest...the first from the road.....soon he was on his way on the m.v. accra....via liverpool to nigeria.....he had many postings and missions in nigeria...kano....kaduna...zwanka....he mastered nigerian dialects...and transposed the liturgy from english to those many tongues....he worked in leper colonies.....and in a visit to canada in 1958....missioned and worked in the native chippawan reserve in cape croker ontario.....during his years as a priest he never was afriad to shed his clerical garb and get his hands dirty....his generosity resonated wherever he went....he in the last few years of his ministry ...because of tropical illness was offered a posting in more frindly locales...such as ...ireland ...england or washington....but he declined....he wished to continue his life and mission in nigeria....this he did....teaching ..helping....and helping...despite the fact his illness got worse.....one sunday in april 1977 after saying mass....he retired for a siesta....his housekeeper found him in the arms of god.....physically dead.....he is interred where he said his life wasin nigeria...a marker in wilton....beras his name....but his humility....his strength of character will live on ...he brought a new pride to mchale road ....like me he loved the road....i treasure the fact ...that he was my brother...fr. sean murphy s.m.a....a man of distinction....his ordination cards were inscribed....he that is holy has done great things for me ...and holy is his name....writings from the magnificat.... lives of great men all remind us ...we can make our lives sublime....and departing.....leave behindus ....footprints on the sands of time..... ....tog go bog e.....