work.Poor man,it’s not his fault there’s a Depression.He looks for work day and night. My Dan is lucky, four years with the city and he don’t drink. He grew up in Toome with your husband. Some drink. Some don’t. Curse of the Irish. Now eat,Angela. Build yourself up after your loss. Mr. MacAdorey tells Dad there’s work with the WPA and when he gets the work there’s money for food and Mam leaves the bed to clean the twins and to feed us.When Dad comes home with the drink smell there’s  no  money  and  Mam  screams  at  him  till  the  twins  cry,  and Malachy and I run out to the playground. On those nights Mam crawls back into bed and Dad sings the sad songs about Ireland.Why doesn’t he  hold  her  and  help  her  sleep  the  way  he  did  with  my  little  sister who died? Why doesn’t he sing a Margaret song or a song that will dry Mam’s tears? He still gets Malachy and me out of bed to stand in our shirts promising to die for Ireland. One night he wanted to make the twins  promise  to  die  for  Ireland  but  they  can’t  even  talk  and  Mam screamed  at  him, You  mad  oul’  bastard,  can’t  you  leave  the  children alone? He’ll give us a nickel for ice cream if we promise to die for Ireland and we promise but we never get the nickel. We get soup from Mrs. Leibowitz and mashed potatoes from Minnie MacAdorey and they show us how to take care of the twins, how to wash their bottoms and how to wash diaper rags after they get them all shitty. Mrs. Leibowitz calls them diapers and Minnie calls them nappies but it doesn’t matter what they call them because the twins get them shitty anyway. If Mam stays in the bed and Dad goes out looking for a job we can do what we like all day.We can put the twins in the small swings in the park and swing them till they get hungry and cry.The Ital- ian man calls to me from across the street, Hey, Frankie, c’mere.Watch out crossing da street. Dem twins hungry again? He gives us bits of cheese and ham and bananas but I can’t eat bananas anymore after the way the bird spat blood at Cuchulain. The man says his name is Mr. Dimino and that’s his wife, Angela, behind the counter. I tell him that’s my mother’s name. No kiddin’, kid.Your mother is Angela? I didn’t know the Irish had any Angelas. Hey, Angela, his mother’s name is Angela. She smiles. She says,Thatsa nice. 42