I canat, says Dad. It would be bad luck. Coal hole is no place for a Pope.When the Pope is up, heas up.
Suit yourself, says Mam.
I will, says Dad.
This is our first Christmas in Limerick and the girls are out in the lane, skipping rope and singing, Christmas is coming And the goose is getting fat, Please put a penny In the old manas hat.
93.If you havenat a penny A haapenny will do And if you havenat a haapenny G.o.d bless you.
Boys tease the girls and call out, May your mother have an accident Abroad in the loo.
Mam says shead like to have a nice Christmas dinner but what can you do when the Labour Exchange reduces the dole to sixteen shillings after Oliver and Eugene died? You pay the rent of six shillings, you have ten shillings left, and what use is that to four people?
Dad canat get any work. He gets up early on weekdays, lights the fire, boils water for the tea and his shaving mug. He puts on a shirt and attaches a collar with studs. He puts on his tie and his cap and goes to the Labour Exchange to sign for the dole.He will never leave the house without collar and tie.A man without collar and tie is a man with no respect for himself.You never know when the clerk at the Labour Exchange might tell you thereas a job going at Rankas Flour Mills or the Limerick Cement Company, and even if itas a laboring job what will they think if you appear without collar and tie?
Bosses and foremen always show him respect and say theyare ready to hire him, but when he opens his mouth and they hear the North of Ireland accent, they take a Limerickman instead. Thatas what he tells Mam by the fire and when she says,Why donat you dress like a proper workingman? he says heall never give an inch, never let them know, and when she says,Why canat you try to talk like a Limerickman? he says heall never sink that low and the greatest sorrow of his life is that his sons are now afflicted with the Limerick accent. She says, Sorry for your troubles and I hope thatas all youall ever have, and he says that some day, with G.o.das help, weall get out of Limerick and far from the Shannon that kills.
I ask Dad what afflicted means and he says, Sickness, son, and things that donat fit.
When heas not looking for work Dad goes for long walks, miles into the country. He asks farmers if they need any help, that he grew up on 94.a farm and can do anything. If they hire him he goes to work right away with his cap on and his collar and tie. He works so hard and long the farmers have to tell him to stop.They wonder how a man can work through a long hot day with no thought of food or drink. Dad smiles.
He never brings home the money he earns on farms.That money seems to be different from the dole, which is supposed to be brought home.
He takes the farm money to the pub and drinks it. If heas not home when the Angelus rings at six oaclock Mam knows he had a day of work. She hopes he might think of his family and pa.s.s the pub even once, but he never does. She hopes he might bring home something from the farm, potatoes, cabbage, turnips, carrots, but heall never bring home anything because head never stoop so low as to ask a farmer for anything. Mam says atis all right for her to be begging at the St.Vincent de Paul Society for a docket for food but he canat stick a few spuds in his pocket. He says itas different for a man.You have to keep the dignity.
Wear your collar and tie, keep up the appearance, and never ask for anything.
Mam says, I hope it keeps fine for you.
When the farm money is gone he rolls home singing and crying over Ireland and his dead children, mostly about Ireland. If he sings Roddy McCorley, it means he had only the price of a pint or two. If he sings Kevin Barry, it means he had a good day, that he is now falling down drunk and ready to get us out of bed, line us up and make us promise to die for Ireland, unless Mam tells him leave us alone or sheall brain him with the poker.
You wouldnat do that,Angela.
I would and more.You better stop the nonsense and go to bed.
Bed, bed, bed.Whatas the use of going to bed? If I go to bed Iall only have to get up again and I canat sleep in a place where thereas a river sending poison to us in mist and fog.
He goes to bed, pounds the wall with his fist, sings a woeful song, falls asleep. Heas up at daylight because no one should sleep beyond the dawn. He wakes Malachy and me and weare tired from being kept up the night before with his talking and singing.We complain and say weare sick,weare tired, but he pulls back the overcoats that cover us and forces us out on the floor. Itas December and itas freezing and we can see our breath.We pee into the bucket by the bedroom door and run down stairs for the warmth of the fire Dad has already started.We wash our faces and hands in a basin that sits under the water tap by the door.The 95.pipe that leads to the tap has to be held to the wall by a piece of twine looped around a nail. Everything around the tap is damp, the floor, the wall, the chair the basin sits on.The water from the tap is icy and our fingers turn numb. Dad says this is good for us, it will make men of us.
He throws the icy water on his face and neck and chest to show thereas nothing to fear.We hold our hands to the fire for the heat thatas in it but we canat stay there long because we have to drink our tea and eat our bread and go to school. Dad makes us say grace before meals and grace after meals and he tells us be good boys at school because G.o.d is watching every move and the slightest disobedience will send us straight to h.e.l.l where weall never have to worry about the cold again.
And he smiles.
Two weeks before Christmas Malachy and I come home from school in a heavy rain and when we push in the door we find the kitchen empty.The table and chairs and trunk are gone and the fire is dead in the grate. The Pope is still there and that means we havenat moved again. Dad would never move without the Pope. The kitchen floor is wet, little pools of water all around, and the walls are twinkling with the damp.Thereas a noise upstairs and when we go up we find Dad and Mam and the missing furniture. Itas nice and warm there with a fire blazing in the grate, Mam sitting in the bed, and Dad reading The Irish Press and smoking a cigarette by the fire. Mam tells us there was a terrible flood, that the rain came down the lane and poured in under our door.They tried to stop it with rags but they only turned sopping wet and let the rain in. People emptying their buckets made it worse and there was a sickening stink in the kitchen. She thinks we should stay upstairs as long as there is rain.Weall be warm through the winter months and then we can go downstairs in the springtime if there is any sign of a dryness in the walls or the floor. Dad says itas like going away on our holidays to a warm foreign place like Italy.Thatas what weall call the upstairs from now on, Italy.Malachy says the Pope is still on the wall downstairs and heas going to be all cold and couldnat we bring him up?
but Mam says,No, heas going to stay where he is because I donat want him on the wall glaring at me in the bed. Isnat it enough that we dragged him all the way from Brooklyn to Belfast to Dublin to Limerick? All I want now is a little peace, ease and comfort.
96.Mam takes Malachy and me to the St.Vincent de Paul Society to stand in the queue and see if thereas any chance of getting something for the Christmas dinnera"a goose or a ham, but the man says everyone in Limerick is desperate this Christmas.He gives her a docket for groceries at McGrathas shop and another one for the butcher.
No goose, says the butcher, no ham. No fancy items when you bring the docket from the St.Vincent de Paul.What you can have now, missus, is black pudding and tripe or a sheepas head or a nice pigas head.
No harm in a pigas head, missus, plenty of meat and children love it, slice that cheek, slather it with mustard and youare in heaven, though I suppose they wouldnat have the likes of that in America where theyare mad for the steak and all cla.s.ses of poultry, flying, walking or swimming itself.
He tells Mam, no, she canat have boiled bacon or sausages and if she has any sense sheall take the pigas head before theyare all gone the way the poor people of Limerick are clamoring for them.
Mam says the pigas head isnat right for Christmas and he says atis more than the Holy Family had in that cold stable in Bethlehem long ago.You wouldnat find them complaining if someone offered them a nice fat pigas head.
No, they wouldnat complain, says Mam, but theyad never eat the pigas head.They were Jewish.
And what does that have to do with it? A pigas head is a pigas head.
And a Jew is a Jew and atis against their religion and I donat blame them.
The butcher says,Are you a bit of an expert, missus, on the Jews and the pig.
I am not, says Mam, but there was a Jewish woman,Mrs. Leibowitz, in New York, and I donat know what we would have done without her.
The butcher takes the pigas head off a shelf and when Malachy says, Ooh, look at the dead dog, the butcher and Mam burst out laughing.
He wraps the head in newspaper, hands it to Mam and says, Happy Christmas. Then he wraps up some sausages and tells her,Take these sausages for your breakfast on Christmas Day. Mam says, Oh, I canat afford sausages, and he says, Am I asking you for money? Am I? Take these sausages. They might help make up for the lack of a goose or a ham.
Sure, you donat have to do that, says Mam.
97.I know that, missus. If I had to do it, I wouldnat.
Mam says she has a pain in her back, that Iall have to carry the pigas head. I hold it against my chest but itas damp and when the newspaper begins to fall away everyone can see the head. Mam says, Iam ashamed of me life that the world should know weare having pigas head for Christmas. Boys from Leamyas National School see me and they point and laugh.Aw,Gawd,look at Frankie McCourt ana his pigas snout. Is that what the Yanks ate for Christmas dinner, Frankie?
One calls to another,Hey,Christy, do you know how to ate a pigas head?
No, I donat, Paddy.
Grab him by the ears ana chew the face offa him.
And Christy says,Hey, Paddy, do you know the only part of the pig the McCourts donat ate?
No, I donat, Christy.
The only part they donat ate is the oink.
After a few streets the newspaper is gone altogether and everyone can see the pigas head. His nose is flat against my chest and pointing up at my chin and I feel sorry for him because heas dead and the world is laughing at him. My sister and two brothers are dead, too, but if anyone laughed at them Iad hit them with a rock.
I wish Dad would come and help us because Mam has to stop every few steps and lean against a wall. Sheas holding her back and telling us sheall never be able to climb Barrack Hill. Even if Dad came he wouldnat be much use because he never carries anything, parcels, bags, packages. If you carry such things you lose your dignity.Thatas what he says. He carried the twins when they were tired and he carried the Pope, but that was not the same as carrying ordinary things like a pigas head. He tells Malachy and me that when you grow up you have to wear a collar and tie and never let people see you carry things.
Heas upstairs sitting by the fire, smoking a cigarette, reading The Irish Press, which he loves because itas De Valeraas paper and he thinks De Valera is the greatest man in the world. He looks at me and the pigas head and tells Mam itas a disgraceful thing to let a boy carry an object like that through the streets of Limerick. She takes off her coat and eases herself into the bed and tells him that next Christmas he can go out and find the dinner. Sheas worn out and gasping for a cup of tea so would he drop his grand airs, boil the water for the tea and fry some bread before his two small sons starve to death.
98.On Christmas morning he lights the fire early so that we can have sausages and bread and tea. Mam sends me to Grandma to see if we can borrow a pot for the pigas head. Grandma says,What are ye having for yeer dinner? Pigas head! Jesus, Mary ana Joseph, thatas goina beyond the beyonds.Couldnat your father get out and find a ham or a goose at least?
What kind of man is he at all, at all?
Mam puts the head in the pot, just covered with water, and while the pig is boiling away Dad takes Malachy and me to Ma.s.s at the Redemptorist church. Itas warm in the church and sweet with flowers and incense and candles. He takes us to see the Baby Jesus in the crib.
Heas a big fat baby with fair curls like Malachy. Dad tells us thatas Jesusa mother there, Mary, in the blue dress, and his father, St. Joseph, the old man with the beard. He says theyare sad because they know Jesus will grow up and be killed so that we can all go to heaven. I ask why the Baby Jesus has to die and Dad says you canat ask questions like that.
Malachy says,Why? and Dad tells him be quiet.
Mam is in a terrible state at home.There isnat enough coal to cook the dinner, the water isnat boiling anymore and she says sheas demented with worry.Weall have to go down the Dock Road again to see if thereas any coal or turf lying around from the lorries. Surely weall find something on the road this day of all days.Even the poorest of the poor donat go out on Christmas Day picking coal off the road.Thereas no use asking Dad to go because he will never stoop that low and even if he did he wonat carry things through the streets. Itas a rule he has. Mam canat go because of the pain in her back.
She says,Youall have to go, Frank, and take Malachy with you.
Itas a long way to the Dock Road but we donat mind because our bellies are filled with sausages and bread and itas not raining.We carry a canvas bag Mam borrowed from Mrs. Hannon next door and Mam is right, there is no one on the Dock Road.The poor are all at home having pigas head or maybe a goose and we have the Dock Road to ourselves.
We find bits of coal and turf stuck in cracks on the road and in the walls of the coal yards.We find bits of paper and cardboard that will be useful in starting the fire again.Weare wandering around trying to fill the bag when Pa Keating comes along. He must have washed himself for Christmas because heas not as black as he was when Eugene died.
He wants to know what weare doing with that bag and when Malachy tells him he says, Jesus, Mary and Holy St. Joseph! Christmas Day and ye donat have a fire for yeer pigas head.Thatas a b.l.o.o.d.y disgrace.
99.He takes us to Southas pub, which is not supposed to be open, but heas a regular customer and thereas a back door for men who want their pint to celebrate the birthday of the Baby Jesus above in the crib. He orders his pint and lemonade for us and asks the man if thereas any chance of getting a few lumps of coal.The man says heas been serving drink for twenty-seven years and n.o.body ever asked him for coal before.
Pa says it would be a favor and the man says if Pa asked for the moon head fly up and bring it back.The man leads us to the coal hole under the stairs and tells us take what we can carry. Itas real coal and not bits from the Dock Road and if we canat carry it we can drag it along the ground.
It takes us a long time to go from Southas pub to Barrack Hill because of a hole in the bag. I pull the bag and itas Malachyas job to pick up the lumps that fall through the hole and put them back again.Then it starts to rain and we canat stand in a doorway till it pa.s.ses because we have that coal and itas leaving a black trail along the pavement and Malachy is turning black from picking up the lumps, pushing them into the bag and wiping the rain from his face with his wet black hands. I tell him heas black, he tells me Iam black, and a woman in a shop tells us get away from that door, atis Christmas Day and she doesnat want to be looking at Africa.
We have to keep dragging the bag or weall never have our Christmas dinner. It will take ages to get a fire going and ages more to get our dinner because the water has to be boiling when Mam puts in the head of cabbage and the potatoes to keep the pig company in the pot.We drag the bag up OaConnell Avenue and we see people in their houses sitting around tables with all kinds of decorations and bright lights. At one house they push up the window and the children point and laugh and call to us, Look at the Zulus.Where are yeer spears?
Malachy makes faces at them and wants to throw coal at them but I tell him if he throws coal thereas less for the pig and weall never get our dinner.
The downstairs in our house is a lake again from the rain pouring under the door but it doesnat matter because weare drenched anyway and we can wade through the water. Dad comes down and drags the bag upstairs to Italy. He says weare good boys for getting so much coal, that the Dock Road must have been covered with it.When Mam sees us she starts to laugh, and then she cries. Sheas laughing because 100.weare so black and crying because weare sopping wet. She tells us take off all our clothes and she washes the coal off our hands and faces. She tells Dad the pigas head can wait a while so that we can have a jam jar of hot tea.
Itas raining outside and thereas a lake downstairs in our kitchen but up here in Italy the fire is going again and the room is so dry and warm that, after our tea, Malachy and I doze off in the bed and we donat wake till Dad tells us the dinner is ready. Our clothes are still wet, so Malachy sits on the trunk at the table wrapped in Mamas red American overcoat and Iam wrapped in an old coat that Mamas father left behind when he went to Australia.
There are delicious smells in the room, cabbage, potatoes, and the pigas head, but when Dad lifts the head from the pot to a plate Malachy says, Oh, the poor pig. I donat want to eat the poor pig.
Mam says, If you were hungry youad eat it. Now stop the nonsense and eat your dinner.
Dad says,Wait a minute. He takes slices from the two cheeks, places them on our plates and smears them with mustard. He takes the plate that holds the pigas head and puts it on the floor under the table.Now, he says to Malachy, thatas ham, and Malachy eats it because heas not looking at what it came from and it isnat pigas head anymore.The cabbage is soft and hot and there are plenty of potatoes with b.u.t.ter and salt.
Mam peels our potatoes but Dad eats his skin and all. He says all the nourishment of a potato is in the skin and Mam says itas a good thing heas not eating eggs, head be chewing the sh.e.l.ls and all.
He says he would, and itas a disgrace that the Irish throw out millions of potato skins every day and thatas why thousands are dying of consumption and surely thereas nourishment in the sh.e.l.l of an egg since waste is the eighth deadly sin. If he had his way, and Mam says, Never mind your way. Eat your dinner.
He eats half a potato with its skin on and puts the other half back in the pot. He eats a small slice of the pigas cheek and a leaf of cabbage and leaves the rest on his plate for Malachy and me.He makes more tea and we have that with bread and jam so that no one can say we didnat have a sweet on Christmas Day.
Itas dark now and still raining outside and the coal is glowing in the grate where Mam and Dad sit and smoke their cigarettes.Thereas nothing to do when your clothes are wet but get back into bed where itas 101.
cozy and your father can tell you a story about how Cuchulain became a Catholic and you fall asleep and dream about the pig standing in the crib at the Redemptorist church crying because he and the Baby Jesus and Cuchulain all have to grow up and die.
The angel that brought Margaret and the twins comes again and brings us another brother, Michael. Dad says he found Michael on the seventh step of the stairs to Italy. He says thatas what you have to watch for when you ask for a new baby, the Angel on the Seventh Step.
Malachy wants to know how you can get a new brother from the Angel on the Seventh Step if you donat have any stairs in your house and Dad tells him that asking too many questions is an affliction.
Malachy wants to know what an affliction is.
Affliction. Iad like to know what that word means. Affliction, but Dad says, Och, child, the world is an affliction and everything in it, puts on his cap and goes to the Bedford Row Hospital to see Mam and Michael. Sheas in the hospital with the pain in her back and she has the baby with her to make sure he was healthy when he was left on the seventh step. I donat understand this because Iam sure angels would never leave a sick baby on the seventh step.Thereas no use asking Dad or Mam about this. They say,Youare getting as bad as your brother for asking questions. Go play.
I know that big people donat like questions from children.They can ask all the questions they like, Howas school? Are you a good boy? Did you say your prayers? but if you ask them did they say their prayers you might be hit on the head.
Dad brings Mam home with the new baby and she has to stay in bed for a few days with the pain in her back. She says this baby is the spitting image of our sister who died, with his wavy black hair, his lovely blue eyes, and the gorgeous eyebrows.Thatas what Mam says.
I want to know if the baby will be spitting. I also want to know which is the seventh step because there are nine steps on the stairs and Iad like to know if you count from the bottom or the top. Dad doesnat mind answering this question.Angels come down from above, he says, and not up from kitchens like ours which are lakes from October till April.
So I find the seventh step by counting from the top.
102.
The baby Michael has a cold. His head is stuffed and he can barely breathe. Mam worries because itas Sunday and the Dispensary for the poor is closed. If you go to the doctoras house and the maid sees youare from the lower cla.s.ses she tells you go to the Dispensary where you belong. If you tell her the child is dying in your arms sheall say the doctor is in the country riding his horse.
Mam cries because the baby is struggling to get air through his mouth. She tries to clear his nostrils with a bit of rolled-up paper but sheas afraid to push it too far up. Dad says,Thereas no need for that.Youare not supposed to be pushing things inside a childas head. It looks like heas going to kiss the baby. Instead, he has his mouth on the little nose and heas sucking sucking the bad stuff out of Michaelas head. He spits it into the fire, Michael gives out a loud cry and you can see him drawing the air into his head and kicking his legs and laughing. Mam looks at Dad as if he just came down from heaven and Dad says,Thatas what we did in Antrim long before there were doctors riding their horses.
Michael ent.i.tles us to a few extra shillings on the dole but Mam says it isnat enough and now she has to go to the St.Vincent de Paul Society for food. One night there is a knock on the door and Mam sends me down to see who it is.There are two men from the St.Vincent de Paul and they want to see my mother and father. I tell them my parents are upstairs in Italy and they say,What?
Upstairs where atis dry. Iall tell them.
They want to know what that little shed is beside our front door. I tell them itas the lavatory.They want to know why it isnat in the back of the house and I tell them itas the lavatory for the whole lane and itas a good thing itas not in the back of our house or wead have people traipsing through our kitchen with buckets that would make you sick.
They say, Are you sure thereas one lavatory for the whole lane?
I am.
They say, Mother of G.o.d.
Mam calls down from Italy.Whoas down there?
The men.
What men?
From the St.Vincent de Paul.
Theyare careful the way they step into the lake in the kitchen and they make tsk tsk and tut tut noises and they tell one another, Isnat this 103.
a disgrace? till they get upstairs to Italy.They tell Mam and Dad theyare sorry to disturb them but the Society has to be sure theyare helping deserving cases. Mam offers them a cup of tea but they look around and say, No, thank you.They want to know why weare living upstairs.They want to know about the lavatory.They ask questions because big people can ask all the questions they like and write in notebooks, especially when theyare wearing collars and ties and suits. They ask how old Michael is, how much Dad gets at the Labour Exchange, when did he last have a job, why doesnat he have a job now and what cla.s.s of an accent is that he has?
Dad tells them the lavatory could kill us with every cla.s.s of disease, that the kitchen floods in the winter and we have to move upstairs to stay dry. He says the River Shannon is responsible for all the dampness in the world and killing us one by one.
Malachy tells them weare living in Italy and they smile.