We walk back along OConnell Avenue and I keep thinking of the
way the ball came to my foot and surely it was sent by God or the Blessed
Virgin Mary who would never send such a blessing to one doomed for
being born in half the time and I know as long as I live Ill never forget
that ball coming from Billy Campbell, that goal.
Mam meets Bridey Hannon and her mother going up the lane and they
tell her about Mr. Hannons poor legs. Poor John, its a trial for him to
cycle home every night after delivering coal and turf all day on the great
float for the coal merchants on the Dock Road. Hes paid from eight in
the morning till half five in the evening though he has to get the horse
ready well before eight and settle him for the night well after half five.
Hes up and down on that float all day hoisting bags of coal and turf,
desperate to keep the bandages in place on his legs so the dirt wont get
into the open sores.The bandages are forever sticking and have to be
ripped away and when he comes home she washes the sores with warm
water and soap, covers them with ointment and wraps them in clean
bandages.They cant afford new bandages every day so she keeps wash-
ing the old ones over and over till theyre gray.
Mam says Mr. Hannon should see the doctor and Mrs. Hannon
says, Sure, he seen the doctor a dozen times and the doctor says he has
to stay off them legs.Thats all. Stay off them legs. Sure how can he stay
off them legs? He has to work. What would we live on if he didnt
work?
Mam says maybe Bridey could get some kind of a job herself and
Bridey is offended. Dont you know I have a weak chest, Angela? Dont
you know I had rheumatic fever an I could go at any time? I have to
be careful.
Mam often talks about Bridey and her rheumatic fever and weak
chest. She says,That one is able to sit here by the hour and complain
about her ailments but it doesnt stop her from puffing away on the
Woodbines.
Mam tells Bridey shes very sorry over the weak chest and its ter-
rible the way her father suffers. Mrs. Hannon tells my mother that John
is getting worse every day,And what would you think, Mrs. McCourt,
if your boy Frankie went on the float with him a few hours a week and
helped him with the bags? We can barely afford it but Frankie could
earn a shilling or two and John could rest his poor legs.
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