A lot more work than I expected...so I'm beat. Tomorrow is heading for home..So a bit more of APOS to tide me over...this is when Brendan's twelve....
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I was in no rush to get home. I’d be in for it from Ma for not telling her I was going out and being gone for so long, so I headed over to Colm’s, but he wasn’t in. From there I went to Paidrig’s, but he was watching his sister and nephew, and I had no interest in helping him. I thought about Eammon’s, but his mother would be a trial and a half, and Danny’d been running with a new crowd, of late, so I just slowly wandered about in the growing ruins of my neighborhood.
We’d been learning about the Blitz and how even Belfast was hit by the Nazi bombers, and I wondered if this is how the city looked after such a catastrophe. If Da had wandered through such ruins, though they’d have still been smoking from the fires and death within them. I knew little of his childhood. Hadn’t he any brothers or sisters? Or was he an only child, something that would be unusual in Ireland? The mystery of his early years began to pick at me and seemed magnified by the blank walls staring out at rough mounds of dirt and stone.
With the Derry Corporation, this was about nothing but redevelopment. New lodgings for old, with indoor plumbing and windows tight against winter’s chill and good wiring that could accept electric appliances for those who could afford them. So now half a block that once held homes and was a neighborhood and had people living next to each other their whole lives had been made vacant and meaningless. Other houses were empty, their windows bricked up. The destruction was working its way closer and closer to my home, so it was only a matter of time before we wound up in a soulless flat and were ordered to feel grateful because it offered a bathtub and hot water.
The fog had grown softer but more consistent, so that looking at some of these buildings made you feel more like you were staring at ghosts than you were dwellings where couples had been married and borne children and lived their lives in silence, always hoping tomorrow would be better. Or tomorrow. Or even the tomorrow after that.
I wondered if it was like this in Dublin or all through the Republic. I was fair certain it wasn’t on the other side of the Foyle. Joanna’s family was obviously doing quite well, for that estate car was almost new, and their clothes were up to date and obviously not from a second hand shop. Were all Catholics so poor in wealth? Were Protestants really so much richer than us? The stories and vicious gossip I heard were so filled with such contradictions, I honestly could not say. It seemed to me I should travel down to Dublin some time just to see for myself what a nation of papists was like.
I heard an RUC whistle blare behind me, and with it came the sound of running feet, so I stepped into a vacant doorway and glanced about just in time to see Danny and a couple odd-sized lads from Springtown running out of the mist, laughing.
“Oi, me China!” I called out, and Danny skidded to a halt, this wild look on his face, but when he saw me, he grinned and hopped into the doorway with me. Moments later, a couple of RUC coppers ran past, still chasing the other lads.
He chuckled and punched me softly in the shoulder, saying, “You saved me, Bren.” And his face was bright with excitement, happier than I’d seen him in months.
“What was all that?” I asked.
“We was throwing stones at windows in the Guildhall and they thought to catch us. Bloody bastards.”
“Still after your mates.”
“They won’t catch ‘em. By now they’d hit out to four directions, but I know where they’ll wind up.” Then he looked at me and grinned. “Come with me; I’ll introduce you.”
“Where?”
“Up Groarty Road in the Republic. It’s at this round pile of rocks up there.”
“Isn’t that far?”
“Not so very. So you comin’?”
Not feeling ready to face Ma yet, I gave a shrug and went with him.
Not so very far? It took us near two hours of brisk walking to get there, something made longer by the hills and grotto along the way. Danny just kept at it, not even trying to talk. I almost wanted to ask him where he’d been these last few weeks, maybe find out why he’d ended his altar boy assistance with Father Jack, but the lovely silence of us just being together and the good clean air crashing into my lungs kept me from saying a word. And the occasional grin I got from him said I’d done right. He’d never been much of one for conversation.
As we left the city’s edge, the fog all but vanished. There was no moon out but it was still a bright enough night to see across the parcels of land and beyond the clumps of trees. And because the silence was cut only by the sound of our shoes on the road, it seemed as if we’d been taken to a new and amazing world of peace and tolerance. And for the first time I got the urge to just keep walking till I could walk no more.
Finally, we cut down this road that curled around and up a hill, and after a bit I could make out a round shape at the top of it, to our right. There wasn’t a tree near it and the wind was brisk and bit at my cheeks. I had my parka on tight, then, but Danny was in just a jacket and seemed untouched by the chill.
“Is that it?” I asked, my voice sudden and sharp against the quiet.
“Yeah,” said Danny. “I think it was a fort, once. It’s got walkways going up, inside.”
“How long you been coming here?”
“A year.”
“Bloody hell, Danny, you keep your own counsel, don’t you?”
“I like being alone.”
“Then why’d you show it to your mates?”
“I didn’t,” he said with a sigh. “It’s not like it’s a secret. They found me there, one night. We hit it off.”
Then I heard an odd swishing sound and turned just as a Schwinn bicycle raced up the gravel road and whipped past us, its pilot laughing. Another boy was on the handlebars. A moment behind them was a Huffy Penguin, with a second lad seated on the rear of the banana seat. They stopped a bit ahead of us and jumped off their bikes, waving at Danny.
“Hey, Danny-boy, who’s the lad!” shouted the one who’d piloted the Penguin.
“It’s Brendan,” he called back. “I told you of him!”
They came down the hill a bit to meet us, one tall, two my height, one smaller than Maeve, all dark and slim and looking a lot like brothers. It was the same group who’d been chased by the peelers. Their clothes were flashy and neat, something I hadn’t noticed when they ran past, and their faces were all grins as the tall one grabbed my hand, saying, “So you’re the famous fix-anything lad.”
“Can you work on the gears on me bike? They rattle something awful,” said one my size, who was the darkest. The other one my size was fairer and freckled.
I shrugged and said, “Won’t know till I see it.”
“I’m Tommy,” said the tall one, “and this is Aiden.” He pointed to the one with the Schwinn then to his mate in size, who’d piloted the Huffy. “That’s Sean. And last is Brian.”
“Boru to yous,” said the smallest lad, whose pants were actually a few inches too short for him and whose boots made his feet look comical in size.
“And Saint Brendan to you,” said I, in return. "I've an uncle named Sean."
"Who doesn't?" Sean shot back.
They laughed and we cut through what I think was heather up the last of the hill to the fort. Whatever it was, it was thick and grabbed at my trousers.
“I think I know your brother, Eamonn,” Said Tommy. “He’s at university, inn’t he?”
“First term,” I said, nodding, suddenly remembering what I’d seen in the window. “He -- he’s home, for the weekend. I -- I don’t recall you being around.”
“I met him on the march to Dungiven. He’s a passionate one. When things threatened to get hard between us and the RUC, he helped convince us to back down.”
“You should’ve torn those bloody peelers apart,” snapped Brian.
“Plenty of time for that.”
“Um -- Eamonn thinks O’Neill will work with us,” I said.
“Give the country over?” laughed Sean.
“That bastard, Paisley, wouldn’t let him,” said Aiden.
“Not after Antrim,” said Tommy.
“Were you there?” I asked.
“Torched one of the RUC’s tenders,” he said, proudly. “News crews snapped photos of it for the papers.”
“He’s got a bloody scrapbook,” said Brian.
“For history, me lad!”
We reached the base of the fort and circled around to a tiny opening covered with a grate. Tommy undid a couple of bolts and pulled it partway off, then held it aside as we scampered through this cave-like passageway to the middle of the circle.
Danny wasn’t kidding; it did used to be a fort, with stone steps leading up to three levels of walkways. The uppermost one was only a few feet under the top so it looked as if you could lean on its walls and look out over the whole of Ireland. It was only later I learned we were in Grianán Aileach.
-->
-----
I was in no rush to get home. I’d be in for it from Ma for not telling her I was going out and being gone for so long, so I headed over to Colm’s, but he wasn’t in. From there I went to Paidrig’s, but he was watching his sister and nephew, and I had no interest in helping him. I thought about Eammon’s, but his mother would be a trial and a half, and Danny’d been running with a new crowd, of late, so I just slowly wandered about in the growing ruins of my neighborhood.
We’d been learning about the Blitz and how even Belfast was hit by the Nazi bombers, and I wondered if this is how the city looked after such a catastrophe. If Da had wandered through such ruins, though they’d have still been smoking from the fires and death within them. I knew little of his childhood. Hadn’t he any brothers or sisters? Or was he an only child, something that would be unusual in Ireland? The mystery of his early years began to pick at me and seemed magnified by the blank walls staring out at rough mounds of dirt and stone.
With the Derry Corporation, this was about nothing but redevelopment. New lodgings for old, with indoor plumbing and windows tight against winter’s chill and good wiring that could accept electric appliances for those who could afford them. So now half a block that once held homes and was a neighborhood and had people living next to each other their whole lives had been made vacant and meaningless. Other houses were empty, their windows bricked up. The destruction was working its way closer and closer to my home, so it was only a matter of time before we wound up in a soulless flat and were ordered to feel grateful because it offered a bathtub and hot water.
The fog had grown softer but more consistent, so that looking at some of these buildings made you feel more like you were staring at ghosts than you were dwellings where couples had been married and borne children and lived their lives in silence, always hoping tomorrow would be better. Or tomorrow. Or even the tomorrow after that.
I wondered if it was like this in Dublin or all through the Republic. I was fair certain it wasn’t on the other side of the Foyle. Joanna’s family was obviously doing quite well, for that estate car was almost new, and their clothes were up to date and obviously not from a second hand shop. Were all Catholics so poor in wealth? Were Protestants really so much richer than us? The stories and vicious gossip I heard were so filled with such contradictions, I honestly could not say. It seemed to me I should travel down to Dublin some time just to see for myself what a nation of papists was like.
I heard an RUC whistle blare behind me, and with it came the sound of running feet, so I stepped into a vacant doorway and glanced about just in time to see Danny and a couple odd-sized lads from Springtown running out of the mist, laughing.
“Oi, me China!” I called out, and Danny skidded to a halt, this wild look on his face, but when he saw me, he grinned and hopped into the doorway with me. Moments later, a couple of RUC coppers ran past, still chasing the other lads.
He chuckled and punched me softly in the shoulder, saying, “You saved me, Bren.” And his face was bright with excitement, happier than I’d seen him in months.
“What was all that?” I asked.
“We was throwing stones at windows in the Guildhall and they thought to catch us. Bloody bastards.”
“Still after your mates.”
“They won’t catch ‘em. By now they’d hit out to four directions, but I know where they’ll wind up.” Then he looked at me and grinned. “Come with me; I’ll introduce you.”
“Where?”
“Up Groarty Road in the Republic. It’s at this round pile of rocks up there.”
“Isn’t that far?”
“Not so very. So you comin’?”
Not feeling ready to face Ma yet, I gave a shrug and went with him.
Not so very far? It took us near two hours of brisk walking to get there, something made longer by the hills and grotto along the way. Danny just kept at it, not even trying to talk. I almost wanted to ask him where he’d been these last few weeks, maybe find out why he’d ended his altar boy assistance with Father Jack, but the lovely silence of us just being together and the good clean air crashing into my lungs kept me from saying a word. And the occasional grin I got from him said I’d done right. He’d never been much of one for conversation.
As we left the city’s edge, the fog all but vanished. There was no moon out but it was still a bright enough night to see across the parcels of land and beyond the clumps of trees. And because the silence was cut only by the sound of our shoes on the road, it seemed as if we’d been taken to a new and amazing world of peace and tolerance. And for the first time I got the urge to just keep walking till I could walk no more.
Finally, we cut down this road that curled around and up a hill, and after a bit I could make out a round shape at the top of it, to our right. There wasn’t a tree near it and the wind was brisk and bit at my cheeks. I had my parka on tight, then, but Danny was in just a jacket and seemed untouched by the chill.
“Is that it?” I asked, my voice sudden and sharp against the quiet.
“Yeah,” said Danny. “I think it was a fort, once. It’s got walkways going up, inside.”
“How long you been coming here?”
“A year.”
“Bloody hell, Danny, you keep your own counsel, don’t you?”
“I like being alone.”
“Then why’d you show it to your mates?”
“I didn’t,” he said with a sigh. “It’s not like it’s a secret. They found me there, one night. We hit it off.”
Then I heard an odd swishing sound and turned just as a Schwinn bicycle raced up the gravel road and whipped past us, its pilot laughing. Another boy was on the handlebars. A moment behind them was a Huffy Penguin, with a second lad seated on the rear of the banana seat. They stopped a bit ahead of us and jumped off their bikes, waving at Danny.
“Hey, Danny-boy, who’s the lad!” shouted the one who’d piloted the Penguin.
“It’s Brendan,” he called back. “I told you of him!”
They came down the hill a bit to meet us, one tall, two my height, one smaller than Maeve, all dark and slim and looking a lot like brothers. It was the same group who’d been chased by the peelers. Their clothes were flashy and neat, something I hadn’t noticed when they ran past, and their faces were all grins as the tall one grabbed my hand, saying, “So you’re the famous fix-anything lad.”
“Can you work on the gears on me bike? They rattle something awful,” said one my size, who was the darkest. The other one my size was fairer and freckled.
I shrugged and said, “Won’t know till I see it.”
“I’m Tommy,” said the tall one, “and this is Aiden.” He pointed to the one with the Schwinn then to his mate in size, who’d piloted the Huffy. “That’s Sean. And last is Brian.”
“Boru to yous,” said the smallest lad, whose pants were actually a few inches too short for him and whose boots made his feet look comical in size.
“And Saint Brendan to you,” said I, in return. "I've an uncle named Sean."
"Who doesn't?" Sean shot back.
They laughed and we cut through what I think was heather up the last of the hill to the fort. Whatever it was, it was thick and grabbed at my trousers.
“I think I know your brother, Eamonn,” Said Tommy. “He’s at university, inn’t he?”
“First term,” I said, nodding, suddenly remembering what I’d seen in the window. “He -- he’s home, for the weekend. I -- I don’t recall you being around.”
“I met him on the march to Dungiven. He’s a passionate one. When things threatened to get hard between us and the RUC, he helped convince us to back down.”
“You should’ve torn those bloody peelers apart,” snapped Brian.
“Plenty of time for that.”
“Um -- Eamonn thinks O’Neill will work with us,” I said.
“Give the country over?” laughed Sean.
“That bastard, Paisley, wouldn’t let him,” said Aiden.
“Not after Antrim,” said Tommy.
“Were you there?” I asked.
“Torched one of the RUC’s tenders,” he said, proudly. “News crews snapped photos of it for the papers.”
“He’s got a bloody scrapbook,” said Brian.
“For history, me lad!”
We reached the base of the fort and circled around to a tiny opening covered with a grate. Tommy undid a couple of bolts and pulled it partway off, then held it aside as we scampered through this cave-like passageway to the middle of the circle.
Danny wasn’t kidding; it did used to be a fort, with stone steps leading up to three levels of walkways. The uppermost one was only a few feet under the top so it looked as if you could lean on its walls and look out over the whole of Ireland. It was only later I learned we were in Grianán Aileach.
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