dren dead in a year, one in America, one in Limerick, and in danger of
losing three more for the want of food and drink. Most shopkeepers
shake their heads. Sorry for your troubles but you could go to the St.
Vincent de Paul Society or get the public assistance.
Dad says hes glad to see the spirit of Christ alive in Limerick and
they tell him they dont need the likes of him with his northern accent
to be telling them about Christ and he should be ashamed of himself
dragging a child around like that like a common beggar, a tinker, a
knacker.
A few shopkeepers give bread, potatoes, tins of beans and Dad says,
Well go home now and you boys can eat something, but we meet
Uncle Pa Keating and he tells Dad hes very sorry for his troubles and
would Dad like to have a pint in this pub here?
There are men sitting in this pub with great glasses of black stuff
before them. Uncle Pa Keating and Dad have the black stuff, too.They
lift their glasses carefully and slowly drink.There is creamy white stuff
on their lips, which they lick with little sighs. Uncle Pa gets me a bot-
tle of lemonade and Dad gives me a piece of bread and I dont feel hun-
gry anymore. Still, I wonder how long well sit here with Malachy and
Eugene hungry at home,hours from the porridge,which Eugene didnt
eat anyway.
Dad and Uncle Pa drink their glass of black stuff and have another.
Uncle Pa says, Frankie, this is the pint.This is the staff of life.This is the
best thing for nursing mothers and for those who are long weaned.
He laughs and Dad smiles and I laugh because I think thats what
youre supposed to do when Uncle Pa says something. He doesnt laugh
when he tells the other men about Oliver dying. The other men tip
their hats to Dad. Sorry for your troubles, mister, and surely youll have
a pint.
Dad says yes to the pints and soon hes singing Roddy McCorley
and Kevin Barry and song after song I never heard before and crying
over his lovely little girl, Margaret, that died in America and his little
boy,Oliver,dead beyond in the City Home Hospital.It frightens me the
way he yells and cries and sings and I wish I could be at home with my
three brothers, no, my two brothers, and my mother.
The man behind the bar says to Dad,I think now,mister,youve had
enough.Were sorry for your troubles but you have to take that child
home to his mother that must be heartbroken by the fire.
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