Daniel
LOOKING AT DANIEL standing by the grave of his daddy in the lonely country graveyard, my heart was torn to pieces at the thought of him growing up never really knowing Francie. He was too young to lose such a wonderful man from his life. Too young to appreciate all his daddy’s fine qualities. Too young to learn from him. So many years had already been stolen from Daniel and his daddy through emigration. They’d had such a short time together. Really it was only snatched moments that Francie enjoyed with all of the children. And then, just as he was making plans to retire from those long and lonely trips in search of employment, God called him. Sometimes it is hard to accept the hand of God, but it is a part of our journey through life. There will always be trials and tribulations.
At just six years of age, Daniel had no idea of this great loss. He knew, of course, that Francie had gone to God. But then, as far as Daniel was concerned, his daddy was always coming and going. This time, naturally, he would not be coming back. But at such a tender age, Daniel didn’t really understand all of this. I yearned for his innocence so that my own pain would go away, and I know he sensed my terrible heartache. I never let him out of my sight after his father died. I was always worried that I would lose him too. Even though I love all of my children equally, I have to admit that Daniel was always a bit special.
Daniel was a very comical child too. I remember how on his first day setting off on foot to school, with his teddy bear under his arm, he stopped to chat to some council workers who were digging a water drain down the road by our house. He told them that he was starting school and said that he wasn’t sure whether he was going to like it or not. The journey to the schoolhouse was 2 miles, and I went up to meet him on the way home. Spotting Daniel as we walked hand in hand down the road, the council workers called him over. ‘Well, Daniel, did you have a good day at school?’ one asked.
‘I did,’ said Daniel.
‘And what’s the teacher like?’ the man enquired.
‘Oh, she’s lovely,’ said Daniel. ‘She has a miniskirt on her.’
The council workers leaned on their shovels and roared with laughter.
I have only one memory of being really angry with Daniel when he was a child. And that’s because I was distraught with fear that he had been drowned in an accident. He went off to play without telling me that he was leaving and where he was going, and when the tide came in below our house Daniel was nowhere to be seen. I went out searching for him around the area, shouting his name. There was no reply. He had disappeared. I grew more frantic as the time went on. Had the sea taken my Daniel?
There’s a tower near our house, and that’s where I eventually found him. He had gone up exploring inside the tower. I was in a terrible state by the time I eventually got him. I gave him a right good telling-off for being away like that without letting me know. It was one of the few times that there was a cross word between us.
The year after Francie’s death was a special time in the life of young Daniel. That was the year he made his First Communion, which is one of the big events in the Catholic church. It should have been a day of great joy and celebration; instead, there was a dark cloud over the family as their daddy was missing from the gathering. Francie had always made the effort to get home for occasions like that. I put on a brave face that day so as not to spoil it for Daniel, who was so excited about receiving this sacrament, but I was heartbroken.
Daniel looked very smart as he joined the other young people in the church when they went to receive Holy Communion. The suit he was wearing, with short pants, looked good as new on him. Yet it had been serving the boys in the family for many years; John Bosco had first worn it 13 years earlier when he’d made his First Communion. Then it was worn by James on his big day. The jacket was a wee bit long, but it did the job. Nowadays people book restaurants and hold lavish family parties on the day of a First Communion. Daniel’s treat was an ice cream in the village on the walk home from church. Later, we went up to the graveyard to visit Francie’s grave and to say a little prayer to him. I still have a photograph of Daniel and myself at the grave that day. It was a very hard day for me.
Daniel was prepared for confirmation by his teacher Mrs Logue. She was obviously a very good teacher because he had high expectations of what was going to happen on the day. He thought that he would physically feel something. On the day Daniel was dressed to the nines in a smart suit that Margaret had bought for him with the earnings she got for singing. The suit was too big for him, but Daniel didn’t mind. All he could think about on the morning of the big day was how confirmation would change him. He told me afterwards that he watched the other boys and girls going up to the Bishop who administered the confirmation and he was thinking, ‘He’s got it! She’s got it!’ He was very apprehensive as he went up himself, but after his high expectations it turned out to be a big let-down for Daniel. He was so disappointed that there was no electricity or anything like that going through him.
Daniel was very popular as a young child, and he was always in and out of our neighbours’ houses. He spent a lot of time next door at Josie McGarvey’s. Josie’s daughter, Annie, doted on Daniel, and he was very fond of her too. She was an adult and treated him like her own son. Annie had a cow, a donkey called Johnny and hens. Whenever Annie was sick, Daniel would put Johnny in the shed in the evening, take in the eggs and turf for the fire, and get her groceries.
Annie was a lovely person and a very popular member of our community. Her big hobby was photography, and she took many of our family snaps, including Daniel’s First Communion. Annie had photographs dating back to 1937, the year she first got her camera. We all have fond memories of our dear Annie, who passed away peacefully in 2005.
Daniel loved animals, and he had his own pets around our house, including a pigeon called Jacko, a lovely little, white rabbit, cats and Rover the dog. There was harmony among all the animals. I’d look over at the fireside at night and see the dog, cats, pigeon and rabbit all huddled together as they slept. It was a lovely, warm sight.
When Rover died there was terrible sadness in the house. We all loved Rover. By a strange coincidence, our James arrived home from Dublin an hour and a half after Rover’s passing with a wee, white Scottish terrier. He hadn’t known that Rover had died. Out of everyone in our home, I think James was the most upset. He might seem like a devil-may-care type, but our James is a big softie really. We put a blanket around poor Rover, and James and Daniel were sent off to dig a grave for him. When they were halfway down the road, James started to cry. He returned home, and it was left to Daniel to dig the grave! We of course then called the new arrival Rover, and he quickly became the centre of attention and a great distraction after the loss of his namesake.
Every now and then I’d give Rover a haircut because he was always going through the fields getting mucky and wet in the ditches. He would sometimes stink like a skunk. Rover didn’t like having his hair cut so he used to get very agitated, which made the job very difficult. Eventually I got tablets from the chemist to make him sleep while I trimmed his hair. One time he woke up in the middle of the job, and I had to abandon the grooming, leaving him with long and short bits.
I then sent one of the children to the chemist for something a bit stronger to knock Rover out the next time I was shearing him. When the day arrived, I gave Rover his tablets and they worked a treat. I finished the haircut and he was still asleep, so I put him into a basket in the scullery. The next morning when I got up, I went to check on Rover and found him still sleeping away.
Later again I went to look in on him, and he was still sound asleep. I went over and shook him, and to my horror I realized that he wasn’t in the land of the living. The tablets had obviously been too strong for him. I’d given him an overdose. I didn’t know how I was going to tell James. I didn’t tell him that I’d given the dog some tablets. It was years later that he learned about that dreadful deed. Daniel was devastated that day and wouldn’t speak to any of us. I felt terrible, but sure it was an accident. In time, Daniel got over his heartbreak, but there were no more dogs in our house after that.
There was one cat, however, that neither Daniel nor the rest of the family had a fondness for. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that we hated the living sight of him. He was a big, red, wicked tomcat who had strayed into our home and refused to go away. I did everything to get him out of our house, but he was defiant. Even when a car ran over him, he still survived despite losing half a leg. Talk about a cat with nine lives!
One day I dropped in on a visit to my neighbour Mary Hugo, and I was surprised to find her in floods of tears. ‘What ails you?’ I asked.
‘Och, me poor cats. Me poor cats,’ she wailed.
‘And what’s the matter with your cats?’ I asked, trying to calm her down.
‘I’ll tell you what’s the matter. They’re all after dying on me. Dying I tell you,’ she wailed.
‘And what happened to them?’ I enquired.
‘I’ll tell you what happened. There was whiskey poured into the cats’ milk and they all died after drinking it,’ she sobbed.
My eyes lit up. I couldn’t wait to get home and order a bottle of whiskey for the red tomcat. But do you think it killed him? No, he thrived on it! It was some time later before he eventually took the hint and went off to find another family to annoy. He just disappeared, and we never laid eyes on him again.
As I reflect on his antics during his young days, I can see why Daniel went on to become an entertainer. He always enjoyed being the centre of attention. Many were the times he would put on fancy dress, and then he’d be away through the houses of our neighbours having a bit of fun with them. I recall how one time he went out wearing a wig and sunglasses. He looked for all the world like a young lady, as his outfit also consisted of a dress and shoes with stiletto heels. Daniel called on one old lady in the neighbourhood with a bunch of necklaces and told her that they were for sale.
‘And where are you from?’ the neighbour asked him, not recognizing Daniel.
‘I’m from Japan,’ Daniel replied, putting on a foreign accent.
‘Have you any children?’ the women enquired.
‘Six,’ said Daniel without hesitating.
‘Oh, God save us, give it here to me and I’ll buy the lot from you,’ the poor woman replied. She went off and got her purse to give him some money.
Daniel then confessed to being in the dress and the wig. Our neighbour, far from being annoyed over Daniel fooling her, thought it was a great joke.
Although he never had to do hard labour, Daniel wasn’t totally idle as a child. He did make his contribution to the family by going out to do part-time work in the Cope, which was the local store in Kincasslagh. Everything the community needed could be found in that store, from home-grown produce and tins of food to animal feed and wellington boots! From about the age of nine that store became a part of Daniel’s life. I think it really helped him to grow as a person because it brought out his personality and got him used to dealing with people before he went out into the world himself.
Daniel started from the bottom, sweeping the floor and weighing the corn, layers’ mash, chick mash and corn cake for the cows. As he gained some experience, he was promoted to a helper on the Cope’s delivery van, which went around the highways and byways selling goods to people in remote areas. Daniel would come home and tell how people had invited him into their homes to share their food. Betty Doogan was one of the women who’d always have something tasty on the table.
‘Och, I got lovely fish fingers in Betty’s today,’ he’d tell me.
Biddy the Butcher was another woman whom Daniel would mention after his day out on the Cope van. She would often give Daniel and the driver their dinner.
‘Och, Mammy, you should taste Biddy’s Arctic roll. It’s absolutely delicious,’ he’d say. It was a sponge cake with ice cream in the centre.
Another day Daniel came home and told me that he had met Protestants.
‘And were they nice people?’ I asked.
‘Oh, Mother, they were lovely. They were just the same as you and me.’
I don’t know what impression Daniel had of our Protestant neighbours, but he was very impressed with this particular family called the Boyds when he met them out on the Cope van. I suppose in those times there was no real contact between Protestants and Catholics in the area. Both sides of the religious divide kept to themselves. So that was a good experience for Daniel, to realize that, black or white, Catholic or Protestant, we are all the same.
The Cope employed Daniel part-time throughout his school days, and he really blossomed there. It wasn’t hard labour, of course, which suited my Daniel.
Today, he would tell you that one of the chores he hated as a child was working in the bog, when the family set off to cut turf for the fire. He didn’t like the labour involved, and there were always midges that would sting. The only part of that day he enjoyed was the lift on the tractor and the lemonade and sandwiches.
At school Daniel was a bright child. I always got good reports about him from his teachers. When he went on to secondary school, I had high hopes of him doing well and going on to get a proper job in life. He often talked about becoming an accountant, which I was delighted about. But I never put any pressure on him to go in a particular direction. I did know, however, that whatever the job would be, it certainly wasn’t going to be manual. He couldn’t turn his hand to anything manual.
Daniel came home one day and told me that his teacher in woodwork class, a man by the name of Cundy, wasn’t too impressed with his handiwork.
‘What did you do wrong?’ I asked.
‘I made a dove-tail joint,’ Daniel said.
‘And what was wrong with that?’
‘I thought it was good myself, but Cundy didn’t think so.’
‘What did he say?’ I wondered.
‘Well, when I asked him what I should do with it, he told me to throw it in the fire,’ Daniel sighed.
Poor Daniel. He would often say in jest, ‘I might as well not have been born with hands – they’re only there to finish off my arms.’
While I always allowed my children to find their own feet in the world and didn’t push them in any particular direction career-wise, there was great concern among some of our neighbours about what was going to become of Daniel. One local woman, in particular, who fretted over his future was Nora Dan, who lived up beside the graveyard about 2 miles from our home. Nora was a very good-natured person and very hospitable. There were always callers to her home – and not always of the human species. Her hens would wander into the house as well and jump up on the table when you were having your tea. ‘Shush! Who invited you,’ she’d say, sweeping them out the door with her hands. Nora used to come up to the shop every Friday to get her pension, and then she’d come to me for her dinner and her tea.
One day the conversation came round to Daniel’s future. Nora was desperately trying to come up with a job that might suit him.
‘Maybe he’ll go to the bank?’ Kathleen suggested.
Nora shook her head, instantly dismissing that notion. ‘Sure you wouldn’t be able to afford laces for your shoes till you were a bank manager. And there are so few bank managers. You’d be working as a clerk, and sure what they’re paid isn’t worth talking about.’ Nora paced up and down her kitchen, shushing the hens out the door again. ‘Do you think would he make a good Garda?’ she thought out loud.
Before Kathleen could offer an opinion, Nora answered herself. ‘No, no. You need good sight to be a policeman, and Daniel has anything but good sight in one of his eyes. If there was a robbery in the village, he might have to read the getaway car from a distance, and sure with his bad eyesight he’d be a dead loss. No, the Garda’s not for him.’
Nora gave up. ‘What’s going to become of him?’ she sighed as she flopped back onto a wooden chair by the fire. As far as she was concerned, Daniel was going to have his work cut out to make it in life. Little did any of us know what lay ahead for him.