My brother is standing with his face pressed against a leg of the table and he’s asleep. Dad lifts him, staggers across the room, places him in the bed by my mother. I climb into bed and my father, still in his clothes, lies beside me. I’m hoping he’ll put his arms around me but he goes on singing about Roddy McCorley and talking to Margaret, Oh, my little curly-haired, blue-eyed love, I would dress you in silks and take you to Lough Neagh, till day is at the window and I fall asleep. That night Cuchulain comes to me.There’s a big green bird on his shoulder that keeps singing about Kevin Barry and Roddy McCorley and I don’t like that bird because there’s blood dripping from his mouth when he sings. In one hand Cuchulain carries the gae bolga, the spear that is so mighty only he can throw it. In the other hand he carries a banana, which he keeps offering to the bird, who just squawks and spits blood at him.You’d wonder why Cuchulain puts up with a bird like that. If the twins ever spat blood at me when I offered them a banana I think I’d hit them on the head with it. In  the  morning  my  father  is  at  the  kitchen  table  and  I  tell  him my  dream. He says there were no bananas in Ireland in the old times and  even  if  there  were  Cuchulain  would  never  offer  one  to  that bird  because that was the one that came over from England for the summer and perched on his shoulder when he was dying and propped up against a stone and when the men of Erin which is Ireland wanted to  kill  him  they  were  afraid  till  they  saw  the  bird  drinking  Cuchu- lain’s  blood  and  then  they  knew  it  was  safe  to  attack  him, the  dirty bloody cowards. So you have to be wary of birds, Francis, birds and Englishmen. Most of the day Mam lies in bed with her face to the wall. If she drinks tea or eats anything she throws up in the bucket under the bed and I have to empty it and rinse it in the lavatory down the hall. Mrs. Lei- bowitz brings her soup and funny bread that is twisted. Mam tries to slice it but Mrs. Leibowitz laughs and tells her just pull. Malachy calls it pull bread but Mrs. Leibowitz says, No, it’s challah, and teaches us how to say it. She shakes her head. Oy, you Irish.You’ll live forever but you’ll never say challah like a Chew. Minnie  MacAdorey  brings  potatoes  and  cabbage  and  sometimes a  piece  of  meat.  Och,  times  are  hard, Angela,  but  that  lovely  man, Mr. Roosevelt, will find a job for everyone and your husband will have 41