Mam asks if thereas any chance of getting boots for Malachy and me and they say sheall have to come down to Ozanam House and apply.She says she hasnat been feeling well since the baby came and she wouldnat be able to stand long in a queue, but they say everyone has to be treated the same, even a woman down in the Irishtown that had triplets and, thank you,weall make our report to the Society.
When theyare leaving Malachy wants to show them where the angel left Michael on the seventh step but Dad tells him, Not now, not now.
Malachy cries and one of the men gives him a piece of toffee from his pocket and I wish I had something to cry about so that Iad get a piece, too.
I have to go downstairs again and show the men where to step to keep their feet dry. They keep shaking their heads and saying, G.o.d Almighty and Mother of G.o.d, this is desperate. Thatas not Italy they have upstairs, thatas Calcutta.
Dad is telling Mam up in Italy she should never beg like that.
What do you mean, beg?
Donat you have any pride, begging for boots like that?
And what would you do,Mr. Grand Manner? Would you let them go barefoot?
Iad rather fix the shoes they have.
The shoes they have are falling to pieces.
I can fix them, he says.
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You canat fix anything.Youare useless, she says.
He comes home the next day with an old bicycle tire. He sends me to Mr.Hannon next door for the loan of a last and a hammer. He takes Mamas sharp knife and he hacks at the tire till he has pieces to fit on the soles and heels of our shoes. Mam tells him heas going to destroy the shoes altogether but he pounds away with the hammer, driving the nails through the rubber pieces and into the shoes. Mam says, G.o.d above, if you left the shoes alone theyad last till Easter, at least, and we might get the boots from the St.Vincent de Paul. But he wonat stop till the soles and heels are covered with squares of rubber tire which stick out on each side of the shoe and flop before and behind. He makes us put on the shoes and tells us our feet will be good and warm but we donat want to wear them anymore because the tire pieces are so lumpy we stumble when we walk around Italy. He sends me back to Mr.Hannon with the last and hammer and Mrs. Hannon says,G.o.d above, whatas up with your shoes? She laughs and Mr.Hannon shakes his head and I feel ashamed.
I donat want to go to school next day and I pretend to be sick but Dad gets us up and gives us our fried bread and tea and tells us we should be grateful we have any shoes at all, that there are boys in Leamyas National School who go to school barefoot on bitter days. On our way to school Leamyas boys laugh at us because the tire pieces are so thick they add a few inches to our height and the boys say,Howas the air up there? There are six or seven barefoot boys in my cla.s.s and they donat say anything and I wonder if itas better to have shoes with rubber tires that make you trip and stumble or to go barefoot. If you have no shoes at all youall have all the barefoot boys on your side. If you have rubber tires on your shoes youare all alone with your brother and you have to fight your own battles.
I sit on a bench in the schoolyard shed and take off my shoes and stockings but when I go into the cla.s.s the master wants to know where my shoes are. He knows Iam not one of the barefoot boys and he makes me go back to the yard, bring in the shoes and put them on.Then he says to the cla.s.s,There is sneering here.There is jeering at the misfortunes of others. Is there anyone in this cla.s.s that thinks heas perfect?
Raise your hands.
There are no hands.
Is there anyone in this cla.s.s that comes from a rich family with money galore to spend on shoes? Raise your hands.
There are no hands.
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He says,There are boys here who have to mend their shoes whatever way they can.There are boys in this cla.s.s with no shoes at all. Itas not their fault and itas no shame. Our Lord had no shoes. He died shoeless. Do you see Him hanging on the cross sporting shoes? Do you, boys?
No, sir.
What is it you donat see Our Lord doing?
Hanging on the cross and sporting shoes, sir.
Now if I hear of one boy in this cla.s.s jeering and sneering at McCourt or his brother over their shoes the stick will come out.What will come out, boys?
The stick, sir.
The stick will sting, boys.The ash plant will whistle through the air, it will land on the backside of the boy that jeers, the boy that sneers.
Where will it land, boys?
On the boy that jeers, sir.
And?
The boy that sneers, sir.
The boys bother us no more and we wear our shoes with the rubber tires the few weeks to Easter when the St.Vincent de Paul Society gives us the gift of boots.
If I have to get up in the middle of the night to pee in the bucket I go to the top of the stairs and look down to see if the angel might be on the seventh step. Sometimes Iam sure thereas a light there and if everyoneas asleep I sit on the step in case the angel might be bringing another baby or just coming for a visit. I ask Mam if the angel just brings the babies and then forgets about them. She says, Of course not.The angel never forgets the babies and comes back to make sure the baby is happy.
I could ask the angel all kinds of questions and Iam sure head answer, unless itas a girl angel. But Iam sure a girl angel would answer questions, too. I never heard anyone say they didnat.
I sit on the seventh step a long time and Iam sure the angel is there.
I tell him all the things you canat tell your mother or father for fear of being hit on the head or told go out and play. I tell him all about school and how Iam afraid of the master and his stick when he roars at us in Irish and I still donat know what heas talking about because I came from America and the other boys were learning Irish a year before me.
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I stay on the seventh step till it gets too cold or Dad gets up and tells me go back to bed. Heas the one who told me the angel comes to the seventh step in the first place and youad think head know why Iam sitting there. I told him one night that I was waiting for the angel, and he said, Och, now, Francis, youare a bit of a dreamer.
I get back into bed but I can hear him whisper to my mother.The poor wee lad was sitting on the stairs talking away to an angel.
He laughs and my mother laughs and I think, Isnat it curious the way big people laugh over the angel who brought them a new child.
Before Easter we move back downstairs to Ireland. Easter is better than Christmas because the air is warmer, the walls are not dripping with the damp, and the kitchen isnat a lake anymore, and if weare up early we might catch the sun slanting for a minute through the kitchen window.
In fine weather men sit outside smoking their cigarettes if they have them, looking at the world and watching us play.Women stand with their arms folded, chatting.They donat sit because all they do is stay at home, take care of the children, clean the house and cook a bit and the men need the chairs.The men sit because theyare worn out from walking to the Labour Exchange every morning to sign for the dole, discussing the worldas problems and wondering what to do with the rest of the day. Some stop at the bookie to study the form and place a shilling or two on a sure thing. Some spend hours in the Carnegie Library reading English and Irish newspapers.A man on the dole needs to keep up with things because all the other men on the dole are experts on whatas going on in the world. A man on the dole must be ready in case another man on the dole brings up Hitler or Mussolini or the terrible state of the Chinese millions.A man on the dole goes home after a day with the bookie or the newspaper and his wife will not begrudge him a few minutes with the ease and peace of his cigarette and his tea and time to sit in his chair and think of the world.
Easter is better than Christmas because Dad takes us to the Redemptorist church where all the priests wear white and sing.Theyare happy because Our Lord is in heaven. I ask Dad if the baby in the crib is dead and he says, No, He was thirty-three when He died and there He is, hanging on the cross. I donat understand how He grew up so fast that Heas hanging there with a hat made of thorns and blood every- 107.
where, dripping from His head, His hands, His feet, and a big hole near His belly.
Dad says Iall understand when I grow up. He tells me that all the time now and I want to be big like him so that I can understand everything.
It must be lovely to wake up in the morning and understand everything. I wish I could be like all the big people in the church, standing and kneeling and praying and understanding everything.
At the Ma.s.s people go up to the altar and the priest puts something into their mouths.They come back to their seats with their heads down, their mouths moving.Malachy says heas hungry and he wants some, too.
Dad says, Shush, thatas Holy Communion, the body and blood of Our Lord.
But, Dad.
Shush, itas a mystery.
Thereas no use asking more questions. If you ask a question they tell you itas a mystery, youall understand when you grow up, be a good boy, ask your mother, ask your father, for the love oa Jesus leave me alone, go out and play.
Dad gets his first job in Limerick at the cement factory and Mam is happy. She wonat have to stand in the queue at the St.Vincent de Paul Society asking for clothes and boots for Malachy and me. She says itas not begging, itas charity, but Dad says itas begging and shameful.
Mam says she can now pay off the few pounds she owes at Kathleen OaConnellas shop and she can pay back what she owes her own mother. She hates to be under obligation to anyone, especially her own mother.
The cement factory is miles outside Limerick and that means Dad has to be out of the house by six in the morning. He doesnat mind because heas used to the long walks.The night before Mam makes him a flask of tea, a sandwich, a hard-boiled egg. She feels sorry for him the way he has to walk three miles out and three miles back. A bicycle would be handy but youad have to be working a year for the price of it.
Friday is payday and Mam is out of the bed early, cleaning the house and singing.
108.
Anyone can see why I wanted your kiss, It had to be and the reason is this . . .
There isnat much to clean in the house. She sweeps the kitchen floor and the floor of Italy upstairs. She washes the four jam jars we use for mugs. She says if Dadas job lasts weall get proper cups and maybe saucers and some day, with the help of G.o.d and His Blessed Mother, weall have sheets on the bed and if we save a long time a blanket or two instead of those old coats which people must have left behind during the Great Famine. She boils water and washes the rags that keep Michael from s.h.i.tting all over the pram and the house itself. Oh, she says, weall have a lovely tea when your Pop brings home the wages tonight.
Pop. Sheas in a good mood.
Sirens and whistles go off all over the city when the men finish work at half-past five. Malachy and I are excited because we know that when your father works and brings home the wages you get the Friday Penny.We know this from other boys whose fathers work and we know that after your tea you can go to Kathleen OaConnellas shop and buy sweets. If your mother is in a good mood she might even give you tuppence to go to the Lyric Cinema the next day to see a film with James Cagney.
The men who work in factories and shops in the city are coming into the lanes to have their supper,wash themselves and go to the pub.
The women go to the films at the Coliseum or the Lyric Cinema.They buy sweets and Wild Woodbine cigarettes and if their husbands are working a long time they treat themselves to boxes of Black Magic chocolates.They love the romance films and they have a great time crying their eyes out when thereas an unhappy ending or a handsome lover goes away to be shot by Hindus and other non-Catholics.
We have to wait a long time for Dad to walk the miles from the cement factory.We canat have our tea till heas home and thatas very hard because you smell the cooking of other families in the lane. Mam says itas a good thing payday is Friday when you canat eat meat because the smell of bacon or sausages in other houses would drive her out of her mind.We can still have bread and cheese and a nice jam jar of tea with lashings of milk and sugar and what more do you want?
The women are gone to the cinemas, the men are in the pubs, and 109.
still Dad isnat home. Mam says itas a long way to the cement factory even if heas a fast walker. She says that but her eyes are watery and sheas not singing anymore. Sheas sitting by the fire smoking a Wild Woodbine she got on credit from Kathleen OaConnell.The f.a.g is the only luxury she has and sheall never forget Kathleen for her goodness.
She doesnat know how long she can keep the water boiling in this kettle.
Thereas no use making the tea till Dad gets home because it will be stewed, coddled, boiled and unfit to drink. Malachy says heas hungry and she gives him a piece of bread and cheese to keep him going. She says,This job could be the saving of us. aTis hard enough for him to get a job with his northern accent and if he loses this one I donat know what weare going to do.
The darkness is in the lane and we have to light a candle. She has to give us our tea and bread and cheese because weare so hungry we canat wait another minute. She sits at the table, eats a bit of bread and cheese, smokes her Wild Woodbine. She goes to the door to see if Dad is coming down the lane and she talks about the paydays when we searched for him all over Brooklyn. She says, Some day weall all go back to America and weall have a nice warm place to live and a lavatory down the hall like the one in Cla.s.son Avenue and not this filthy thing outside our door.
The women are coming home from the cinemas, laughing, and the men, singing, from the pubs. Mam says thereas no use waiting up any longer. If Dad stays in the pubs till closing time there will be nothing left from his wages and we might as well go to bed. She lies in her bed with Michael in her arms. Itas quiet in the lane and I can hear her crying even though she pulls an old coat over her face and I can hear in the distance,my father.
I know itas my father because heas the only one in Limerick who sings that song from the North, Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today. He comes round the corner at the top of the lane and starts Kevin Barry. He sings a verse, stops, holds on to a wall, cries over Kevin Barry.People stick their heads out windows and doors and tell him, For Jasusa sake, put a sock in it. Some of us have to get up in the morning for work. Go home and sing your f.e.c.kina patriotic songs.
He stands in the middle of the lane and tells the world to step outside, heas ready to fight, ready to fight and die for Ireland, which is more than he can say for the men of Limerick, who are known the 110.
length and breadth of the world for collaborating with the perfidious Saxons.
Heas pushing in our door and singing, And if, when all a vigil keep, The Westas asleep, the Westas asleep!
Alas! and well my Erin weep, That Connacht lies in slumber deep, But hark! a voice like thunder spake aThe Westas awake! the Westas awake!
Sing, Oh, hurrah, let England quake, Weall watch till death for Erinas sake!a He calls from the bottom of the stairs, Angela, Angela, is there a drop of tea in this house?
She doesnat answer and he calls again, Francis, Malachy, come down here, boys. I have the Friday Penny for you.
I want to go down and get the Friday Penny but Mam is sobbing with the coat over her mouth and Malachy says, I donat want his old Friday Penny. He can keep it.
Dad is stumbling up the stairs, making a speech about how we all have to die for Ireland. He lights a match and touches it to the candle by Mamas bed. He holds the candle over his head and marches around the room, singing, See who comes over the red-blossomed heather, Their green banners kissing the pure mountain air, Heads erect, eyes to front, stepping proudly together, Sure freedom sits throned on each proud spirit there.
Michael wakes and lets out a loud cry, the Hannons are banging on the wall next door, Mam is telling Dad heas a disgrace and why doesnat he get out of the house altogether.
He stands in the middle of the floor with the candle over his head.
He pulls a penny from his pocket and waves it to Malachy and me.Your Friday Penny, boys, he says. I want you to jump out of that bed and line up here like two soldiers and promise to die for Ireland and Iall give the two of you the Friday Penny.
111.
Malachy sits up in the bed. I donat want it, he says.
And I tell him I donat want it, either.
Dad stands for a minute, swaying, and puts the penny back in his pocket. He turns toward Mam and she says,Youare not sleeping in this bed tonight. He makes his way downstairs with the candle, sleeps on a chair,misses work in the morning, loses the job at the cement factory, and weare back on the dole again.
IV.
The master says itas time to prepare for First Confession and First Communion, to know and remember all the questions and answers in the catechism, to become good Catholics, to know the difference between right and wrong, to die for the Faith if called on.
The master says itas a glorious thing to die for the Faith and Dad says itas a glorious thing to die for Ireland and I wonder if thereas anyone in the world who would like us to live. My brothers are dead and my sister is dead and I wonder if they died for Ireland or the Faith. Dad says they were too young to die for anything. Mam says it was disease and starvation and him never having a job. Dad says, Och,Angela, puts on his cap and goes for a long walk.
The master says weare each to bring threepence for the First Communion catechism with the green cover. The catechism has all the questions and answers we have to know by heart before we can receive First Communion. Older boys in the fifth cla.s.s have the thick Confirmation catechism with the red cover and that costs sixpence. Iad love to be big and important and parade around with the red Confirmation catechism but I donat think Iall live that long the way Iam expected to die for this or that. I want to ask why there are so many big people who havenat died for Ireland or the Faith but I know if you ask a question like that you get you the thump on the head or youare told go out and play.
113.
Itas very handy to have Mikey Molloy living around the corner from me.
Heas eleven, he has fits and behind his back we call him Molloy the Fit.
People in the lane say the fit is an affliction and now I know what affliction means.Mikey knows everything because he has visions in his fits and he reads books. Heas the expert in the lane on Girlsa Bodies and Dirty Things in General and he promises, Iall tell you everything, Frankie,when youare eleven like me and youare not so thick and ignorant.
Itas a good thing he says Frankie so Iall know heas talking to me because he has crossed eyes and you never know who heas looking at. If heas talking to Malachy and I think heas talking to me he might go into a rage and have a fit that will carry him off. He says itas a gift to have crossed eyes because youare like a G.o.d looking two ways at once and if you had crossed eyes in the ancient Roman times you had no problem getting a good job. If you look at pictures of Roman emperors youall see thereas always a great hint of crossed eyes.When heas not having the fit he sits on the ground at the top of the lane reading the books his father brings home from the Carnegie Library. His mother says books books books, heas ruining his eyes with the reading, he needs an operation to straighten them but whoall pay for it. She tells him if he keeps on straining his eyes theyall float together till he has one eye in the middle of his head.Ever after his father calls him Cyclops, who is in a Greek story.
Nora Molloy knows my mother from the queues at the St.Vincent de Paul Society. She tells Mam that Mikey has more sense than twelve men drinking pints in a pub.He knows the names of all the Popes from St.Peter to Pius the Eleventh.Heas only eleven but heas a man, oh, a man indeed. Many a week he saves the family from pure starvation. He borrows a handcart from Aidan Farrell and knocks on doors all over Limerick to see if there are people who want coal or turf delivered, and down the Dock Road heall go to haul back great bags a hundredweight or more. Heall run messages for old people who canat walk and if they donat have a penny to give him a prayer will do.
If he earns a little money he hands it over to his mother, who loves her Mikey. He is her world, her heartas blood, her pulse, and if anything ever happened to him they might as well stick her in the lunatic asylum and throw away the key.