Rage

Anna checked all of her pockets as she got out of the car.  Four pockets, containing: her mobile phone, her iPod, the car key and an old packet of chewing gum.  She checked the car was locked as she walked away.  Following her usual routine.  However she didn't feel it was usual.  Something had shifted.  She wasn't out tonight for a healthy walk around the block.  This time it was to alleviate the anger that was building up inside of her.  The anger made her want to pound the path as she plugged herself into her music.  She went for the 'favourites' playlist on the iPod as she plugged in the earphones.  Greenday came on.  "I hope you had the time of your life," she half whispered to herself as she stomped along the road.  She played it as loudly as she could.

She knew the anger had been building up inside of her for some time now but today's events had pushed her over the edge.  The day began with another encounter with Miss Claire at the Montessori school.  Her son was in trouble again.  Anna had repremanded her son, and promised to talk to him at home.  However the voice in her head said, 'He's only three.  He doesn't know what he is yet.'  Something began to niggle at the back of her mind.  She had to dash to work.

Late to work again and the Assistant Manager was waiting at her desk.  "I had to answer that damned phone this morning.  Don't be late again,"  Nevermind that Anna was doing the accounts job because no-one else wanted it.  Dealing with complaints and queries all day long.  In-basket getting bigger and barely a dent of the out-basket.  She'd stay on late tonight to catch up on work.

When she rang Mark to tell him that he needed to pick up Oisin, he was not too pleased.  "Just tell that Manager of yours to get lost." Oh.... but she'd love that.  Yet Mark wasn't going to be able to pay the mortgage on his own.

So when Oisin was fed and in bed, not asleep, she slipped on her tracksuit, grabbed her stuff and leaned in the door to Mark.  He spoke first, "Was little Oisin in trouble again today?"  She nodded. "You'd want to get onto that Miss Claire one, she's a pain in the neck!" She answered slowly, "To be honest Mark, I think we need to talk when I get back.  I think there's something more to it.  He gets in trouble in the supermarket, at the childminders, visiting Grandparents.  We never get a moments peace.  Maybe we should look into it? For his sake."  He retorted quickly, "There's nothing wrong with my son, except you and Miss Whatever-her-name-is mamby-pambying him.  And while you're at it, sort out that cow in work that keeps you back late."

Anna ran the whole conversation through her mind.  She hated her job and the Assistant Manager yet she said nothing all day and did her best.  'Keep the Head Down' was her motto.  She didn't want to disagree with Miss Claire, especially in front of the other parents but she wished she would give her good news sometimes and not embarrass her and Oisin publically.  But what made her burn with rage was that her husband would not listen to her.  He never asked her how she felt, if things were ok? He disagreed with almost everything she said until she gave up saying them.

Hot tears were in her eyes now.  She lowered her face and hoped two passing walkers would not notice, especially when she was wearing her thick glasses.  The anger was now turning into a boiling rage in her stomach.  She marched faster and faster. 

Suddenly a man stepped from behind a high wall across the road.  He walked directly up to her and she quickly realised that there was no-one else around.  "Gimme your stuff now and don't make me take it off ya," he growled.  She could see a small blade in his hand.  Without thinking, she gave him the phone, iPod and key. "More," he whispered with menace.  Anna pulled off her engagement ring and watch.  As she put them in his gloved hand she realised that he was not finished.  Finally the rage exploded.  "You've gotten everything you're going to get from me.  Now fuck off.  I don't care what you have there, just give me an excuse and I'll go for you bare-knuckle," she said through clenched teeth.  The man stood for a long moment.  Appraising her with a passionless face.  She didn't care.  She just wanted to feel the satisfaction of punching him hard with her fists.  She didn't care what happened after that.  He turned and walked in the opposite direction.

Anna walked back to the car.  The rage she felt wasn't even contained inside her anymore, she could feel it fizzing around her body.  She wasn't taking anymore of this.  As she got back to the car she realised that she had no key to get in.  Finally she started to cry.  But the tears were not of self-pity.  She just hated that she wouldn't have the chance to hit that man again, she should have.

In praise of libraries

I was asked by Susan Condon (@susancondon) to give my support to National Libraries Week. I'm late replying but here goes:

Terenure Library, Dublin, was my local when we were children. The children's library was in the front of the building and the adults library was behind.  Mum has always been a voracious reader. Dad used to complain about the weight of the beach bag on holidays. It always contained a large hardback book from the library.  The first few books I read were by Enid Blyton: I loved the Secret Seven. The brilliant Roahl Dahl was next to be discovered. However the happiest memory I have was when I was allowed to change my pink child's ticket to the blue adult library ticket. I felt so grown up. Mum always told us to have the books opened on the page for stamping and turned towards the librarian. Treating the librarian with due respect.

My interest in literacy really began in my teens. I suddenly came upon the realisation that books can change the way you think. Books can show you whole new worlds, transport you back in time, take you inside someone else's head. George Orwell's '1984' and 'Animal Farm' made me think about politics and the world more critically. Oscar Wilde was witty and engaging, especially 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'. 'The Lord of the Flies' by William Golding was disturbing but I wondered did he go too far in his hypothesis. However since becoming a mum and witnessing several party birthday parties for seven-year olds, I'm rethinking this one.

Later I became obsessed with the Second World War. I couldn't understand what made a whole race decide to wipe out another. I read 'The Diary of Anne Frank'  along with 'I am David' by Anne Holm. I'm still none the wiser as to the 'why' of the wars but I know that we need to remind future generations that these things happened and never let history repeat itself.

When I moved to Navan I joined the library there. Navan Library is simply wonderful. It's in the centre of the town overlooking the beautiful St Mary's Church. It is not an aesthetically pleasing building to look at. The library was promised a facelift but it never materalised. However inside, the library is treasure trove for book lovers. There's a huge section of books by Irish writers. The childrens section is welcoming with bright little chairs and tables.  They have books for all ages neatly laid out. There is also a special series of books with CD's for adults who want to learn to read or improve their reading called 'The Clipper Series.'  Every day teenagers fill the room studying or using the computers. 

Every Summer the library run a programme to encourage children to read.  This year it was called 'Circus Stars.'  The child gets a sticker with every book they read and if they read any six books over the summer they're invited to a party.  The stickers had special smells, one even smelt of rabbit poo.  My son thought that was the coolest thing ever.

But there is one little happening that made me genuinely love the library and their staff.  A few years ago when I was studying Montessori, I had to write an essay on one of Maria Montessori's comtemporaries.  I think it was Edouard Seguin.  There is not alot of information left about him.  I asked a librarian to see if she could find any books by him or about him.  She found a book 'in the back,'  and it looked ancient.  When I looked at the library's label at the front of the book I saw that it had not been lent for fifty years.  What other treasures are hidden in there???

Long live the libraries, their staff and the treasure trove of books.

The Locket

She felt her anxiety level rising as she walked into the office. "Stand over in the corner!" she snapped at her young son, as they walked up to the counter. Instantly feeling guilty, it wasn't his fault that they were there. She had told him they were in a post office because she didn't want him reporting to anyone about this visit. He did as he was told but she kept her eye nervously on him, they weren't in the best part of town.

The office was bright and behind the thick glass wall, the staff were friendly."I want to pawn this locket and these earrings," she said in a low voice."Certainly, would you like them to be pawned together or separately?" the young foreign girl asked. She looked exotic probably from South Africa, guessing from her accent. The woman hesitated and the pretty girl continued, "If you pawn them separately, then you can collect them at different times but if you pawn them together you must come up with the full amount." The woman was grateful for that advice. Whatever about the earrings, she had to get the locket back, somehow.

The locket had been bought for her by her parents for her 21st birthday. Lockets were all the rage at that time but the young girl (as she was then) wanted something a little bit different. She didn't want a loveheart-shaped locket. She clapped her eyes on a rectangular book-shaped locket with beautiful engraving all around the edges. With her love of reading she thought it suited her perfectly. Then she had to choose a chain. Again she saw a chain that was slightly different, rounded links.It cost as much as the locket itself. But the girl had her heart set on the locket and chain. She knew her parents didn't have a lot of spare cash and were already throwing a party for her. However she reasoned with herself that since she got job a couple of years ago she never looked for a penny from them. The woman grimaced at this memory. The girl thinking little of taking money from her parents. She loved that locket though and wore it for years. In the past couple of years it had been replaced by a necklace from her husband but the locket had a special place in her heart.

She didn't know how thing's had come to this. Somehow she hadn't budgeted this month correctly and she didn't have enough money to cover her car payment. Her husband had enough worries at the moment and she didn't want to ask him for money, which would only be coming from the last of his savings. She had sold gold before but it didn't hold sentimental value, however this was the first time it ... hurt and caused her shame.

Two big rough-looking men came into the office. She completed her paperwork and nervously tried to hide where she hid the money in her bag in case they followed her. She called  her son to her side as she did this. The men were trying to sell mobile phones without ID and were becoming agitated. She hurried out of the office and to the car as quickly as she could.

A couple of weeks later an unexpected letter arrived for her. She recognised the writing immediately. The woman and her friend had exchanged letters for years, before facebook and email took over. Inside was a simple card. A short personal message and a gift cheque for a supermarket chain for one hundred Euro. The woman was astonished as she had spoken to no-one about her money worries. Yet her friend, who lived at the other end of the country, had heard that the woman's husband was out of work. Her first reaction was to post it back, her pride kicked in. She rang her friend but couldn't get through so she sent a text. 'Thank you, but it's too much, can't accept :)' Later the friend replied, 'Don't even think about sending it back, it's your birthday present and Christmas present rolled into one.'

The following day the woman left her son with a friend. Saying, "She'd a little business to do" and thinking 'I'm not bringing him to that part of town again!' A few hours later she was wearing that locket and she hasn't taken it off since. The only indicator that she had let the locket go was a mark on the back where the pawn shop had tested the gold. That couldn't be erased.

P.S. This is dedicated to my 'busking friend.'

Letters to Ireland from Germany after WW2

As you may have seen in my last blog, my beloved grandmother passed away recently.  My parents found an old letter when they were going through some of her paperwork.  We were aware of the existence of this letter and a photograph.  Since then we have discovered two more letters and the photograph of the German family.  I'll let the letters speak for themselves.  I've also decided not to publish the lady's first name or address as her children are possibly still alive.

I will faithfully copy the letters below, word for word.  To put the letter in context, I believe Gran was a member of The Red Cross and sent food parcels to a German family after World War 2.  A photo of the family is below.  The little girl mentioned at the end of the letter in 1949 is my mum.  The first letter is written by Frau Bohnet's mother and the final two were written in German, by Frau Bohnet, and translated by a neighbour.   The photo shows Mrs Bohnet with her two children.  Again I won't publish their names. 

Also, Gran probably did this as a mother and a good Christian and would not have liked a fuss made of her.  I have put these letters on my blog for historical interest purposes only.

Freudenstadt,

Germany.

29th May '48

My Dear Familie Fletcher

         Yesterday we received with great joy and thanks a parcel from you.  We thank you very sincerely.  You cannot realise the happiness it brought us especially coming from a stranger.  Yes, there are still good people in this world, who are ready to help us.  I regret that we cannot thank you personally but I know God will reward you and give you health.  My Daughter to whom you kindly sent the parcel, that is Frau Bohnet and for whom I am writing this letter is presently ill and begged me to write you and thank you.

My dear Familie Fletcher you cannot imagine the pleasure we got, especially the children.  The eyes pop out of their heads at the sight of such large bars of chocolate and the other good contents, such as we have not seen for years.

The children believe that God had inspired you with the knowledge that they were fatherless.  It is a pity we can buy nothing, and the scanty monthly ration we receive is nothing.  Everything is to be had, but only for the French in occupation.  Our son William does his utmost for us but I realise he too has a family to look for.  We really had a bad experience in the past years.  Having lost everything including home and all our belongings.  Also a daughter 39 years of age and my two daughters Husbands one of which was Mrs. Bohnet's husband.  Now again May God help and Protect you for your kindness again my sincere thanks.

Frau Bertha L

Freudenstadt, 12th Jan.1949

Bahnhofstrasse 95

Dear Mrs. Fletcher,

Many, many thanks for your gift, which you were kind enough to send to me. Also in the name of my children I say many thanks to you.  The good god may repay you for all the love and kindness you have showed to us.

Excuse me, not having answered your letter earlier, but not knowing the english language I had to wait until a friend of mine who lives in another town had translated it for me.

I very much regret not to be able to send you a photograph of my children and myself, but I hope to have one made one of those days and as soon as possible I shall send it to you.  For five years now I am waiting for my husband who is missed in Russia and had hoped to take us all on the picture.  But up to this date I am without any news.

It is wonderful that people like you still live in this world.  It is true, we have been suffering a great deal in the last four years and it just is like a gift of heaven to feel the love of people and even of people who do not even know me.

Once more many, many thanks to you dear Mrs. Fletcher.  Give our love to your little daughter.  God bless her and you.

Sincerely yours,
Frau B Bohnet


Freudenstadt, 10.2.49

Dear Mrs.

A few days ago I received your parcel, for which I thank you very much.  I hope you received in the meantime my letter I wrote to you last month in which I informed you of the receipt of your parcel of octobre last.

I join this letter a picture of myself and my children promised to you in my last letter. 

I passed Christmas very quietly with my mother and my two children and the contents of your parcel of october last made it possible to make Christmas more Christmas like as it would have been otherwise.

Once more many, many thanks for all love and kindness you showed towards us and with the best of wishes for you and your family

I remain

Sincerely yours

B Bohnet
u. kinder
(and children)

A grandmother's cuddle

My grandmother, Sheila, was born on 27th December 1918.  The first world war had just finished.  Also, at that time the 'Spanish Flu,' was brought from the trenches and killed many more.  My great-grandfather died in his bed when granny was only six days old.  Whenever we would ask her about this she would say, "Well I was the youngest so I was spoilt by my brothers and sisters." Nine siblings in all, one wheelchair bound.  Great-granny was saved from complete financial ruin because her husband worked for Guinness Brewery, which gave generous widows pensions and, thankfully, also her a job.

Gran was of the generation that didn't grumble or complain and alway counted their blessings.  Or maybe that was just her nature.  She talked happily about her childhood and her older sisters watching over her.  Her brother Benny would hide sweets in his wheelchair and sneak them to her.  She had phrases she used to repeat often to us, such as, "My mother always made sure we had good shoes, no matter how tough times were." 

I get the impression when she met my grandfather, Matthew,  that they were completely smitten.  He playing gaelic football for Dublin, eventually winning an All-Ireland medal.  He asked her to wait for a couple of years until they married so she did.  They married during the Second World War, receiving food stamps as wedding gifts.  She had granddad's All-Ireland medal made into a brooch that she wore every day.

I remember their marriage as one of mutual adoration and respect.  They had five children: Maire, my mother, Sheila, Eithne, Matt and Trish.  Every Tuesday she would go into town with her friend to the cinema.  She wore her good shoes.  Grandad would meet her at the end of the evening at the bus stop with her comfortable shoes so they could walk home together. 

She was only 52 when her first grandchild was born, me.  As a result I have many happy memories of visiting and staying with her.  I used to get bubbles of excitement in my stomach if I saw Grandad at the school gate to collect myself and my two brothers, Kieran and Paul, when we were staying with them.  My Aunt Trish was only eight years older than me, therefore, the coolest person on the planet with her make-up and discos.  Grandad made up great stories and sang endless songs and granny baked the most delicious cakes.

Once of my strongest memories, however, was staying the night at their house while my parents went away for a night.  I developed an ear-ache as I lay in the dark.  Being a six year old I thought I'd get in trouble if I went downstairs.  Unfortunately the ear-ached became more and more painful until I could stick it no longer.  I went down to granny in the cozy front-room and looked at her.  Breaking down into tears I went over to her and told her about my ear.  I sat up on her lap and she just enveloped me in a huge, warm cuddle. The ear-ache felt better already.

Years later, when I told her that I was leaving banking  to do Montessori teaching  and she advised me against it. She remarked that 'I'd never make any money from that.' (She was right) But I replied that I was, 'happy doing the teaching and hated banking.' (I was right).  Then she stopped for a minute and smiled at me, "You never cease to amaze me."  I took it as a compliment.

She had fourteen grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren.  She was the rock that sustained her two daughters when they were tragedically widowed at young ages.  And every 27th December, the whole family gathered together to celebrate her birthday. 

We all met again this year, without gran, as she was bed-ridden.  I called in to see her in the wonderful nursing home that were giving her the best of care.  I left a laminated picture from my son with a picture of the sun and a rainbow and a happy birthday message to her.  I kissed her on her warm, soft, dark-skinned forehead and told her I loved her. 

Those were my last words to her.  She passed away peacefully this morning.  Three days after her 93rd birthday.  I'm thankful to have been surrounded all my life by so many loving relatives.  To have loved and be loved the greatest life of all.  xx

Singing for little babies

Last Tuesday, a twitter friend (Derek) asked me if I was interested in joining a group of people from Twitter who were going to record a song for charity.  I presumed that these people all knew one another well but later discovered that most of them had only contacted one another through the medium of Twitter.  Not being sure I could even sing, I thought about it for a while and then thought, 'What the hell!' and I was in.

I later discovered that the suggestion had first been posted by Brenda Drumm on Saturday 19th November.  She left the decision of the charity to benefit from the single to a democratic vote and Unit 8, Neo-Natal ward in Holles Street was picked. Waiting nervously during the week for the announcement of  the song; 'Winter Song' was quickly chosen.  I downloaded it from iTunes and immediately fell in love with it.

All week long I walked up and down my quiet little country road with my iPod plugged in, singing to myself.  Once terrifying a neighbour and her dog who were walking behind me. I told no-one that I would be recording the song with 139 (approx) other 'characters' in the Westin Hotel in Dublin on Sunday 27th November.  In fact I only told my husband on the Friday before and his reaction was, 'you singing?' 

Undeterred I made it to Dublin and walked nervously into the beautiful hall in the Westin Hotel.  I was terrified by that stage.  However I began to talk to people around me and discovered that most had come alone and from far away.  They were some of the nicest and friendliest people I've ever met.

I thought I was clever and sat in the back row.  However we were quickly told to stand on the chairs in order to be heard.  The next three hours were hard work, recording and re-recording.  Singing harmonies and hitting notes (I hope) I never thought I could.  But I loved it, and knowing that it was for a good cause felt even better.  Imagine, some of the babies born in Holles Street can be half a pound.  Ian Callanan was the musical organiser and he was very good natured with his thrown-together choir.  He even gently teased us when we were supposed to be watching him and instead were reading the lyrics on the wall behind. "It's only three words, Is Love Alive? Surely you can remember that?" We laughed.

Is Love Alive?
'Winter Song' will be out this week.  I hope that for all involved and those special babies that it does extremely well.  I know it was one of the most uplifting things I've been involved in this year.  The twitter trend is #twitterxmassingle. Good on ya Brenda and happy birthday.