Mam says well have to have a bit of party the night before I go.
They used to have parties in the old days when anyone would go to
America, which was so far away the parties were called American wakes
because the family never expected to see the departing one again in this
life. She says tis a great pity Malachy cant come back from England but
well be together in America someday with the help of God and His
Blessed Mother.
On my days off from work I walk around Limerick and look at all the
places we lived, the Windmill Street, Hartstonge Street, Roden Lane,
Rosbrien Road, Little Barrington Street, which is really a lane. I stand
looking at Theresa Carmodys house till her mother comes out and
says,What do you want? I sit at the graves of Oliver and Eugene in the
old St. Patricks Burying Ground and cross the road to St. Lawrences
Cemetery where Theresa is buried.Wherever I go I hear voices of the
dead and I wonder if they can follow you across the Atlantic Ocean.
I want to get pictures of Limerick stuck in my head in case I never
come back. I sit in St. Josephs Church and the Redemptorist church
and tell myself take a good look because I might never see this again. I
walk down Henry Street to say good-bye to St. Francis though Im sure
Ill be able to talk to him in America.
Now there are days I dont want to go to America. Id like to go to
ORiordans Travel Agency and get back my fifty-five pounds. I could
wait till Im twenty-one and Malachy can go with me so that Ill know
at least one person in New York. I have strange feelings and sometimes
when Im sitting by the fire with Mam and my brothers I feel tears
coming and Im ashamed of myself for being weak.At first Mam laughs
and tells me,Your bladder must be near your eye, but then Michael says,
Well all go to America, Dad will be there, Malachy will be there and
well all be together, and she gets the tears herself and we sit there, the
four of us, like weeping eejits.
Mam says this is the first time we ever had a party and isnt it a sad
thing altogether that you have it when your children are slipping away
one by one, Malachy to England, Frank to America. She saves a few
shillings from her wages taking care of Mr. Sliney to buy bread, ham,
brawn, cheese, lemonade and a few bottles of stout. Uncle Pa Keating
brings stout, whiskey and a little sherry for Aunt Aggies delicate stom-
356