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The KNIFE (or why I'm so lucky . . .) |
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Immigration is from immigrare, “to go into” (im + migrare) and emigration is from emigrare, “to
move” (ex + migrare). They refer to the same action, from two diametrically
opposed perspectives: |
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The Ireland years, 1964-1970. |
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I collected football cards. Lots and
lots of football cards. Some may be worth something today.
George Best was our golden boy. I saw him play when the St. John's Primary school football coach, Mr. Billy McVicar, took us boys to see Ireland vs. Wales. That was a heck of a game. My first professional football game. We had to go a long way on a bus. Very exciting! Irish Joke number 2. How did they find out Lord Mountbatten had dandruff? They found his Head and Shoulders on the beach. (His boat was blown up by the Irish Republican Army in 1979).
I remember when a truck filled with pop drinks spilled over near Screen Road, Coleraine, where Sean Hickey lived. The driver said 'take what you want'. I picked up as many bottles as I could carry and brought them home. My Mum didn't believe me at first. I remember when Sean and I were playing at the top of Laurel Park, where the new houses were being built. We were throwing big boulders down an unfinished drain. God knows why - we were kids! My timing was off and Sean dropped a boulder on my right hand's pinky finger. Took the top of my pinky almost clean off. It was hanging by a strip of skin. I had to go to the hospital and get stitches. The top of my pinky is misshapen to this day. I remember when the older not-Catholic boys got me cornered in the woods somewhere. They told me they were going to make me eat shit. One held my arms behind my back. Another stabbed dog droppings with a stick and held it up to my face. The others were jeering. They always hunted in packs. I kept saying 'No, No'. The stick seemed to linger there for an eternity. I'm not sure how it ended, but I assure you I did not eat anything. However the word was spread that Bain had eaten shit. It was all over the neighbourhood. I remember I had a crush on this beautiful blond girl who also lived on Laurel Park. Me and a friend were making crank phone calls to random numbers from my house. My idea was to call the local butcher and I ordered a ton of meat to be delivered to this girls house. Why? I don't know why. Are you kidding me? Anyway, later that week this girl approached me and let me have an ear full. I guess the delivery was made! I remember playing conkers. Conkers was huge in our neighbourhood. We had a Chestnut tree at the entrance to Laurel Park and every year we would climb the tree to get the biggest chestnut. Making the conker was a skill. First you had to harden it. They were several ways to do that. I think I soaked mine in salt water. There was a kid who soaked his in vinegar and every year his conker would go on to smash all of ours. He also had a good swinging technique, which I'm sure had a lot to do with it. I remember one day at St. John's we were getting some kind of medical injection (see Socialized Medicine), and I asked the nurse if I could keep the syringe. The Carry On nurse said 'yes' and next thing you know I'm filling up the syringe with puddle water and squirting the other kids with it. And the very next thing you know, I'm in Sister's room being told what a silly bugger I am. I really was. Other kids took advantage of the silly bugger in me. I remember one kid who said he'd take the bus home with me but first we had to stop and roll down a sand dune. So as I wouldn't lose the four pence, (a large penny an a smaller thruppenny bit, he convinced me to leave the money at the top of the dune so it would be safe. I'd roll down a few times, look for my money and it would be gone. 'Lets look in the sand' he'd say and we'd look together. I think it was my Dad who told me what was really going on. I believe I planned some sort of trick to play one day so I'd find out. It was true. This boy I thought was my friend was stealing my bus money. That really shook me up. I thought we were such good friends.
The tension was really bad by 1970. My Dad had worked for the Guinness Brewing Company in Belfast until 1967. By 1970 he worked for Standard Telephone & Cable (STC), still in Belfast. He was management and a Catholic. Bad combination. Belfast had a curfew. Nobody in or out after 9pm. So when management worked late one time because there was a strike going on he couldn't get home.
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<-----...what you are looking at is my knife. My Rosebud You see, I had this knife as a boy in Northern Ireland. It was my fishing knife. I would go fishing with my best friend Sean Hickey down at the river Ban in Coleraine. We thought it was great that the fish congregated near the warm water that spilled out of this tremendous culvert coming from the 'Chemstrand' Monsanto plant about a quarter mile away. This was the middle 60's. Earth Day hadn't been invented yet. If you notice, the knife is made in Sweden. I guess the Swedes make less expensive knives than the Northern Irish. (I bought this with my pocket- money). Northern Ireland. Better known as Ulster to the locals. The only bit of that island that belongs to Great Britain. Strange really. I didn't understand. I knew my family was Roman Catholic. We had been Roman Catholic in Scotland. This place would be the same - right? 1964. The Beatles were huge. I collected stamps. I sort of remember the long boat trip from Glasgow, Scotland to Belfast. N. Ireland. Belfast is at the end of a long inlet and I could see the factories an houses from a distance. Our first house was a rental in Portrush, just one large dune away from the ocean. My first real awakening happened when I was walking home from school one day and was attacked by 2 or 3 boys. Boys I did not know from Adam. They poured bleach on my head. I ran crying all the way home. My mother was frantic, but I don't think we went to the hospital for some reason. That evening when my dad got home, my parents talked for hours. I heard some of it. That's when I found out there were two types of people in this new place. Catholics and not-Catholics. The not-Catholics didn't like the Catholics. The Catholics had been in this place first but then the not-Catholics had invaded and taken over. Everybody knew if you were Catholic or not-Catholic in Ulster.
You don't. You get them to play
football together.
I want all these lads
to know that I loved them like brothers. Cheers!
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