Poor Little Francie: Conversations with Mother

It must have been 1945 when I began my conversations with Mother, and the first subject was Holidays.

In the Beginning

Before then, knowledge had come to me through some form of mental osmosis. I simply absorbed information from the zone of consciousness that surrounded me, without explicit instruction. From total ignorance in the very beginning, informed merely by survival instinct and my raw senses, I gradually built up a comprehensive map of my social environment, consisting of Mamma, Dadda, Roger and Jerry, and learned how to understand their utterances and interject my own contributions in their language.

Holiday History

I had become aware that in Summertime, the family went down the country. My memory of my previous year in the country was of a rather unsatisfactory experience. I was at that time confined to a pushchair or pram, and had been unable to explore the boreens and fields of the place. By the present time, I was able to walk and run as good as anybody, and looked forward to total freedom this year in the open spaces. However, it was not to be.

The Holiday Conversation

Gradually, as 1945 unfolded, it became apparent that there was some question as to whether there would be any country holiday this year at all. Letters were sent and received and finally my conversation with Mamma began. She said that Daddy and Mammy would not be going down the country, but that Roger and Jerry would go on their own. I could stay at home with Mammy and Daddy and would have a great time, for I would have them all to myself when my brothers were away. But, I said, I wanted to go too. I was able to walk and run and could look after myself.

The memory seems a bit questionable. Is it actually true that Roger and Jerry, at 4 and 5 years of age, would be sent down the country to be looked after by their bachelor uncles, Rodie and Packie? Yes, my memory is totally clear! They actually went. We would see them to a bus at a place I now know to be the north side of Parnell Square, near the Municipal Art Gallery. Daddy would talk to the bus-driver, who would shake his hand and undertake to take good care of the two boys until picked up in Banagher by Uncle Packie. All this is very clear in my mind, but could it have been a later year? I don't think so. When Roger and Jerry were gone, I was all alone in the house, with only my parents. And the reason my parents were not going down the country this year would turn out to be that my mother was pregnant, due in August, and deemed it safer to stay in Dublin this Summer, near the hospital.

Conversation with mother continued. She assured me that I would have a great time when Roger and Jerry were gone. I would have Mammy all to myself. I would have full scope to play wherever I wanted, without competition from the others, and I would have access to all the toys without hindrance.

"Don't you dare touch any of my things when I am gone," said Roger.

"Don't worry;" mother re-assured him. "You can select your important things before you go, and we'll put them up on a high shelf where Francie can't get his hands on them."

I actually began to look forward to the day when the two brothers would be gone, and I would be lord of all I surveyed.

The day came, and the whole family went to the bus to see them off. The two boys and their case were put into the care of the bus-driver, and, after a long wait, as it seemed to me, the bus pulled off and the two banes of my life were gone.

Life without brothers

Life without brothers was not a pleasurable experience. When I woke up next morning, it seemed as if a big hole had been cleft in the world. My life was empty. There were no rows or bickering, but there was nothing, just emptiness.

The Family Rosary

Conversation with mother took a new turn. As a special privilege, I would be allowed to stay up until after the Rosary! This was where mother and father got down on their knees and said prayer after prayer for hours, as it seemed. All very peculiar and interesting. Father placed his elbows on a chair and bent over the chair during this procedure, while Mother sat back on her heels, and I sat on the armchair in front of her.

Gradually, she told me about the Mysteries of the Rosary, five Joyful, five Sorrowful and five Glorious.

Joyful: How an Angel said to Mary that she was to become the mother of God, but had an option to say no, but she said yes. Then Mary went with this news to her older cousin, Elizabeth, down the country, who was already pregnant with John, and whose husband, Zachary, was old and blind. Then how Mary gave birth to Jesus in a Stable and was Presented in the Temple in Jerusalem. When Jesus was a big boy he got lost but was found in the Temple, preaching to the wise men, but then went back to their home in Nazareth and was subject to his parents, until he grew up and preached and performed miracles to prove he was God the Son.

Sorrowful: His enemies captured him and put him to death. He knew what was coming, so he had an Agony in the Garden. They scourged him and put a crown of thorns on his head, made him carry his cross and then crucified him.

Glorious: He rose from the dead and ascended into Heaven. Then the Holy Ghost descended on the Apostles, making them courageous. In the end, Mary was "assumed" into Heaven and crowned Queen of Heaven.

This, then, comprises the basis of my religious formation.

The Brothers' return

When Roger and Jerry returned from the country, I told them of my great privilege. Roger scoffed: "that's no privilege, but a bloody chore."

They, on the other hand had had a mighty time, playing, day after day, with the Sullivan children and Johnny Searson and, sometimes, Francie Larkin, while I was all alone by myself.

To rub salt in the wound, Roger went on to tell me of the great party that had taken place two years ago, when I was christened. My godmother, Eileen Comerford, had provided a great spread with cakes and sweets and biscuits, lemonade and ice-cream and jellly; all for Roger and Jerry, for I, whose party it was, had none at all, because all I could have was a bottle of milk and sleep all the time.

Lilly, the Housemaid

In those days, mother used to wash and polish the floors, which were covered in lino, every week, getting down on her knees to do this work. Now, as her confinement approached, she felt unable to do this work, so she employed a housemaid to do it for her. Her name was Lilly.

One day, when Lilly was finished her tasks, Mother chatted with her at the door, as I stood idly by. (I presume that Rog and Jer were out playing). She told Lilly that she and Daddy were from the country. Lilly, from Cabra, who appeared to be Dublin to the core, said she too had relations in the country.

"O," said mother, "Where in the country?"

"I'm not sure," said Lilly, "I think the Clare part of Limerick."

Mother could hardly contain her laughter until Lilly was gone and the door closed. Then she laughed heartily.

"What's funny?" I asked.

"There's no such place as the Clare part of Limerick," said mother. "Clare is one county and Limerick is another."

Lilly Smee and the Famous Photo of the Three Boyos

Nobody else seems to remember Lilly from Cabra. But a peculiar twist of memory is that I have no memory of being minded by another Lilly, - Lilly Smee, our cousin from Limerick, - when mother went into the Rotunda Hospital for the birth of the new baby, yet there is a famous photograph of the three boys from that period, physical evidence that, indeed, we were minded by her, for it was Lilly Smee who took us to a photographic studio to have our picture taken during mother's confinement.

What is famous about the photo is that it is the only one from that time. Our surly expressions probably come from the fact that we would have been told to stand still.

The Light Show at War's End

I must not have been too pleased with the arrival of a new baby, for I have no memory of mother's home coming with the baby.

That year, 1945, World War 2 came to an end. During the war, the Irish army had placed search-lights around the city and country to watch for unwelcome air-planes. Before dismantling the search-lights, the army gave a final demonstration.

Mother said I could stay up to watch the lights. She put me standing on a chair in front of the window and stood behind the chair so that I would not slip off. Roger and Jerry had their own chairs. We were waiting a long while for the light-show to begin; they must have been waiting for it to get quite dark. Eventually the show began. Great beams of light shone up from the horizon and traversed over the whole sky. I found it fascinating, but Roger and Jerry said it was boring. They had seen it all before and had seen planes caught in the lights and dropping bombs (on North Strand). They were not supposed to look out the windows, but had crept in behind the black-out blinds to watch the show.

Why this light show?

To celebrate the end of the War.

"What is War?"

My brothers laughed. We have had a World War all life long, and you didn't know it!

Mother explained. Suppose Roger and Jerry had a row and didn't make up before going to bed. Then they wake up next day and continue to row. Then the Breens come in on Roger's side and the Bradys come in on Jerry's side. Then the row gets worse rather than better. Each side says terrible things about the other side. They use sticks and stones. Soon they are using knives and bullets. Phibsboro comes in on one side and Cabra on the other. Soon England is on one side and Spain on the other. And soon the whole world is fighting and now with bombs and planes and ships and tanks. And nobody remembers what the original row was about. That is war.

There are other questions. If the army could catch planes in a beam of light, why would they not just as easily shoot them down. Why can't they shoot them down as soon as they have caught them in the beam of light? Because their bullets or missiles are not able to travel as fast as light. By the time the bullet reaches the spot, the plane is gone. Nothing can travel as fast as light. Except electricity. When you trip the light-switch, the light comes on immediately, because electricity travels as fast as light.

The Sky and the Stars

And the sky? What is that? There is a bubble of air around the earth, the atmosphere. Above the atmosphere is the stratosphere. Planes can travel through the atmosphere and the stratosphere. Above that there is space. There is no air in space. It is empty. The earth travels through space. Then there is the moon, which travels around the earth, through space. The earth and the planets travel around the sun. The sun is just one of a million stars. We don't know how many stars there are altogether. We are in a great collection of stars known as the Milky Way.

Heaven

So, if what is above us is the atmosphere, the stratosphere and Outer Space, where is Heaven?

Well, in the old days, people did not understand about the atmosphere and the stratosphere, and thought that heaven was in the sky above us. In reality, when people die, their spirits probably don't leave the earth at all. The dead are all around us, behind a screen. Some people can see ghosts, particularly old people. When they are near death, they often see and talk to the dead.

So what about the Ascension of Jesus and the Assumption of Mary? These are metaphors for moving into another realm of reality. (This was to lead to me having difficulty when the Pope, five years later, declared the bodily Assumption of Mary into Heaven as an Article of Faith. What, is this Assumption not just a metaphor after all?)

Continuing the Conversation

My quizzing of mother about the clouds and the sky and the facts of Outer Space, about air travel and space ships, and the Speed of Light and the multitude of things this questioning evoked could not be completed on one night. Next night, at bedtime, I insisted on standing up on the chair at the window and continuing the conversation. And the next night after that. I continued this bedtime ritual for a long, long time, and learned a lot of things.

Conversations with Mother