Grannymar

This topic has buzzed about inside my head like a nagging tooth for several months now. Lying in bed the other night during a power cut I listened to the radio through tiny earphones attached to my mobile phone. It was the jolt needed to pull it together.

My mobile is a Nokia 6610i, still giving faithful service after three years. It measures 10.5 x 4.5 x 2cms. I tucked it under my pillow to stop it slipping down the back of my bed, Tissues, reading glasses - the spare ones for reading in bed, my phone and medication have at times found their way through that tiny space. The bed is heavy and pulling it out is an activity endured only when necessary.

It is a far cry from the radio we listened to when I was growing up many years ago. That radio was a piece of furniture, an unmoveable feast! The first time I actually realised this was at secondary school, one of my class mates was talking about how she lost the radio. She searched the house for it before finding it under the bed! Our radio was larger and heavier than a family sized Microwave. It lived on top of Daddy’s desk in the alcove beside the fire. Daddy’s chair was always within arms reach of it. No way could you lose it or fit it under a bed!

The radio is still about although it has not worked for years. Brother No.2 took it when Daddy died with the hope of finding parts and getting it going once more. Unable to find the items required and not wanting to part with this token of our /his past, it sat in his mini museum alongside his other treasures of an earlier life. Slowly over the years it has moved along the shelf until finally it was relegated to a high shelf in the utility room where it sits today looking forlorn and unloved.

This radio arrived all bright and shining to our home as a wedding present for my mum and dad in 1941. There was a choice of wavelengths; long, medium and short. My earliest memories are of Radio Eireann and BBC Home Service. Daddy had the habit of tuning in to BBC Home Service for the 7am Morning News programme and switching over to Radio Eireann for the 8am news. Mammy loved to listen to the afternoon play on BBC as she waded through a mountain of ironing, with the help of a bar of Cleeves Toffee. On Christmas Eve we followed Santa’s preparations with the elves checking the gifts for all the children before leaving the North Pole. Somehow it never registered that all the names called out were Irish or had an Irish touch to them!

Lunchtime listening in our school years brought regular episodes of the Kennedy’s of Castleross and a very staid version of Hospital’s Requests on a Wednesday. The latter seemed to play only classical music, Irish diddlie di, or hymns. John McCormack’s recordings were regularly requested The messages of greeting for patients were delivered in very sombre or grave tones, enough to add pain rather than bring comfort. Then a young Bank Clerk from Limerick called Terry Wogan arrived like a tornado blowing fresh air across the airwaves. He spoke irreverently of Matrons, bedpans and pills and the ludicrous reality of lunch at 11am. The programme changed Tempo and we were introduced to the music of the day. I am sure it had a very positive effect on patients who in those days had longer spells in hospital. A simple appendix operation meant a week in bed followed by a week up and about on the ward. That is how it still was in 1966 when my appendix was removed.

Most of that happened before TV began in Ireland. We listened to the radio and made our own pictures inside our heads.

Paddy Crosbie was Question Master of The School around the Corner, where each week, two teams from different Primary schools battled it out to show their knowledge. The programme always finished with the ‘Hard Word’, when Paddy asked each member to write down the meaning of a multi-syllable word. The answers were then read out to the listeners and everyone shared the prize of a box of sweets.

Question Time, for the adults was watched over by our other dad patent leather hairdo Joe Linnane. My mother dated him before she met my dad. We never actually met him, but were glad she chose dad. It didn’t stop us teasing her every time we heard him or saw him in later years on Radio Telifis Eireann.

We had a weekly series of the Foley Family, an early attempt at radio soap. There was Cheili House, a programme of traditional Irish music, and Take the Floor with Dingo – did he have another name? Dingo was the compère; he introduced the musicians and dancers and was caller for the dance steps just like at a barn dance. As a child I thought it was silly having dancing on the radio as you couldn’t see the steps, mind you I feel the same about cooking on the radio today. Joe Lynch, from Cork was another entertainer, who grew-up within Radio Eireann as an actor, singer and comedian, but really came into his own with his Living with Lynch.

I remember a detective series where the story built over several weeks. One week there was a car chase through the streets of Dublin, ending with the criminal crashing into a railing near the Four Courts. We were on the edges of our seats and chewing our fingernails with the tension and excitement. It was all the more believable when the following day; Daddy piled us into the car and took us to see the crash site. There was the car stuck in the railings! Daddy had heard of a crash on the news but let on to us that it was the car from the programme. Somehow I don’t think that would pass the children of today.

My older brothers graduated to Radio Caroline and Radio Luxembourg and we became interested in the Top Twenty and all the hits of the day. If mammy and daddy were out we played about with the dials and wavelengths, sometimes we managed to eavesdrop on ship to shore telephone calls. Usually it was one side of a conversation, but if we managed to get both sides we felt we were very clever.

Now we have digital this and digital that, instant satellite connections across the globe. We hear and see the news as it happens and at times before it happens. Journalists today are in such a hurry to be the first with the news that they they tell us what they think will unfold. Does the fast pace make the news any better or make us happier?

What ever happened to the words of good old W. H. Davies

WHAT is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—

No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Chrisb sent me a very special trick treat yesterday. She got it from Hootin-anni.

We are invited to pass it along to anyone you think is deserving of a special treat for the Hallowe’en season.

Kinda like “Pay it Forward” Y’know, one goodwill gesture deserves another?

But DON’T just choose your friends making this cliquish and ‘just groupies’…

Make NEW friends by choosing random visitors!!

It seems that ‘awards’ are floating around blogland and just “blog friends” get chosen all the time.

Make it RANDOM!!

Now let me think….

Nancy Leitz, yes certainly Nancy deserves a treat for her faithfulness and encouragement. She visits my Blog everyday and comments. Now Nancy does not, despite my encouragement, have her own Blog yet… I live in hope. In the meantime she has found a way to share her talents with the wider world and you will find her over at The Elder Storytelling Place from time to time. Her most recent post was about “Taking Dad Home to Pennsylvania”. If you have not found it already then toddle over today and have a read.

Hails over at Coffee helps who lives somewhere in the backwoods of County Antrim and seems to have a horse in near her office

Nonny at Anonymous, who brings many a smile to my face. I love the antics she gets up to with her mother.

And finally I break the rules, this one is for Baino who lives upside down in Oz-land. Baino gives me plenty of food for thought and fills me with green envy for her turn of phrase and use of the English language. I think you need all the treats possible right now Baino so with hugs from me, enjoy.

Now all you need to do is go visit the girls and say I sent you!

Cheerfulness removes the rust from the mind, lubricates our inward machinery, and enables us to do our work with fewer creaks and groans. If people were universally cheerful, there wouldn’t be half the quarrelling or a tenth part of the wickedness there is.
Cheerfulness, too, promotes health and morality.
Cheerful people live longest here on earth, afterward in our hearts.
- Author Unknown

If I were to name two people who answer this description, one alive and another who has moved on to the world of eternal cheerfulness they would have to be:

Not two but three people have marked my life and outlook forever.

My Maternal Granny lived in Dublin, a bus journey away from us. She was a regular visitor to our home and immediately made for the kitchen or wherever she heard the voices. The mood became much brighter with her arrival and she always had colourful tales to tell from her journey on the bus, a visit to Town or of relations who had called to see her. Granny saw the lighter side in any situation and regularly saved us from a scolding. She used laughter to help make painful experiences a whole lot more tolerable.

We often stayed with her during school holidays. She loved going to the Cinema and regularly took us a matinee showing at the Green Cinema. It has long gone now, replaced by the St Stephen’s Green Shopping Centre. The first film I remember from those days was Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

Granny’s house seemed so much quieter than ours, but then there were only two people in it in those days. The youngest of her sons was unmarried at that time and he was either at work or out with his friends. She would send me up to open his bedroom window when he had gone to work and when I was half way up the stairs she would call out to me “Don’t be looking at those Dirty Books!” This was always followed by a hearty chuckle. Copies of ‘Men Only’ were scattered in bundles all over his room. Naturally I had to take a look at what I was not supposed to see. I am sure by today’s standards they would be considered very tame. Do they still print them?

I remember one day at the lunch table the conversation turned to ‘Wooden Legs’! We must have talked about my Paternal Grandfather because he had a wooden leg! He died when my father was eleven so I never knew him or saw his wooden leg. I was young enough at that time to be a little wary of having a ‘wooden leg’ at close quarters. Granny not to be outdone told me that she had one, it was in the coal shed and after lunch she would let me see it! Sticking close to her skirts we headed out to the coal shed. It was dark inside and there was no light. She ventured into the shadows and lifted something rather heavy from along the back wall. I was ready to scarper as she walked towards me with the leg. “Now do you believe?” she asked and she placed a beautifully carved table leg in front of me! Oh Yes! She laughed heartily for hours afterwards.

Jack the love of my life. We are back to wooden legs again! He was a Burma Veteran. I have talked about this part of his life in earlier Podcasts called Our John Chapter 1 & Chapter 2 in March this year. He had a badly injured leg and walked with a slight limp. In fact he mastered it so well it was more like a skip! He always referred to it as his ‘wooden leg’. He had such a positive attitude to life, his bottle was always half full. No matter what dreadful thing I did he would say “Ah sure it is not as bad as a bad marriage!” He found fun and laughter in all we did. Our 21 years together passed like a short weekend.

Helen, a friend I met on holiday in Spain the month before Elly started nursery school. Helen and her husband were holidaying away from their children for the very first time. Helen’s strong maternal instinct drew her to Elly. We discovered over the few days that we shared many interests. We became instant friends I was really drawn to Helen by her infectious laughter. It was impossible to be in her company for longer than five minutes without vibrating with laughter.

Helen’s life was crossed by many health complications over the years, but she never let this fact get her down. She is a true friend and when we talk or meet up the conversation flows without the gap of the weeks or months since we last spoke. There is one thing sure when I finish a phone call to Helen I feel like I have had a couple of weeks in the sunshine.

Remember: You don’t stop laughing because you grow old; you grow old because you stop laughing.

Now it is your turn…

*We must tell our own stories, and we must tell the stories of others. If you don’t tell your own story, who will? Of course you know I advocate writing your story, but if you can’t write it, or won’t, then for sure tell it. Tell it often, so people don’t forget. It could matter.* this is the final line of a blog post by Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal.

The time to start telling the story is NOW! By the time most of us think of looking back to discover our history, it is too late. The people who have the information are gone. Gravestones and Registers only give dry facts. People bring those facts to life

My oldest brother was at the graveside of a beloved paternal uncle, when he suddenly realised it was too late to ask questions, and he had not paid enough attention to all the stories my uncle had told over the years. All those stories and facts were gone never to be retold. My brother then set himself a task of tracing and noting his family history and by passing on this information to me it opened a whole new outlet and hobby.

Gingerpixel used a wonderful photograph of work worn hands to tell the story of her Grandfather, when she was Guest Phototrapher/Blogger for Mr Irish Blogosphere himself Damien Mulley.

If you are fortunate enough to have parents and grandparents alive, spend some time with them and ask them to write down their memories. If they are not keen you interview them and write it or make a Podcast of them telling the story. The first stage is the most difficult, but once they make a start the memories come back and the stories start to flow.

Your children and Grandchildren will be pleased. Remember their lives will be as different to yours as mine is in relation to my grandparents.

Another memory from my childhood.

Mr ‘O’ owned the local newsagents on the avenue where I grew up. The actual shop was very small; in fact eight customers were about all it would hold at any one time. Mr ‘O’ was super efficient and nobody had to wait very long to be served. In the evenings and at weekends he was joined by Mrs ‘O’. She helped to look after the customers. When they retired about five years ago the other shopkeepers and most of the older, by which I mean long time, residents threw a street party in honour of his long and faithful service.

The shop was once half of a double fronted establishment at the end of a block of about 10 shops with a Cinema half way along the row. It had been divided before Mr ‘O’ bought it. The other half became Mr Mc’s grocery business. That’s a story for another time.

The window was about waist high with a narrow shelf on the inside. It was closed on the inside to the customers and could only be viewed from the outside. It was not a window to linger over as all the goods and personalities were inside the shop. Window dressings 50 years ago were few and simple. Crepe paper lined the shelf and on it were displayed Bars of Cadbury’s Milk Chocolate that in fact were blocks of wood, covered in the foil and wrappers. Boxes of Chocolates such as Mackintoshes Double Centres, Black Magic, Milk Tray or Fruit Jellies were on show. These boxes were only empty cartons; it was just as well because the shop was on the sunny side of the street.

There was a counter 3ft (91cms) high and about 7ft (214cms) long. It ran the length of the shop with a small gap to allow the staff to come out onto the
shop-floor or go into the miniscule store at the back. The first 18 inches from the window end was the children’s corner. You could stand here and look over the counter for an hour or longer with your large old penny burning a hole in the palm of your hand deciding what to spend it on.

Displayed on shelves along the wall behind the counter were what seemed like a wonderland of dentist’s delights from different toffee bars, gob stoppers lucky bags and various sweets including Fruit Salad, Blackjacks, Lollipops, Dolly Mixture, Bubblegum, Liquorice Allsorts, Midget Gems, Liquorice Sticks, Aniseed
Balls, Sugared Almonds and Wine Gums.

Next to this space stood a weighing scales. Along the front of the remainder of the counter were large jars of colourful sweets like a row of soldiers standing to attention. These raised the counter level and the newspapers of the day were placed on top of them. The old fashioned Cash register was tucked in behind, out of sight. Rows of cigarette packets were along the wall at a level out of sight of the children’s corner. Pipe tobacco, matches, pipe-cleaners, cigarette papers, lighter fuel all had their place. You could buy papers, magazines, comics, notepaper & envelopes, cards for all occasions, stamps, sheets of brown or gift paper and string. Large Picture boxes of Chocolates, usually with beautiful girls or cute animals on the front were placed high up on the walls. They sold well at Valentine’s & Mother’s day. The only trouble with them was that they were all box and very few chocolates.

Mr ’O’ also stocked milk in glass bottles, cream and eggs, ice-cream and ice pops – they were like a frozen drink on a stick, bright orange or deep red in colour. Fresh bread was delivered daily and he also stocked lemonade, Coke and Pepsi were not in our vocabulary never mind Mr ‘O’s shop.

At the far end of the counter was a mobile oil heater. It was the only heat in the building. The front door was open from morning to night so when the shop was quiet Mr ‘O’ was to be found working away near the heat source. On the shelves above it were an assortment of items not usual for a ‘paper’ shop. He had plasters, cards of sewing needles, sheets of pins, combs, razor blades, sachets of shampoo, fuses and batteries, sometimes you would see him disappear into the store and return with an item of his own to oblige a customer.

I remember once as a child going up with my saved pocket money to buy something for my parent’s anniversary and when I told him I wanted to buy a present he gently asked how much I wanted to spend. I told him how much I had and I know that what I came home with was well worth more than the cash I gave him. He even wrapped it for me and gave me a card to go with it.

On another occasion years later a friend and neighbour was having a party for her 18^th birthday. It was to be rather special and for the first time her parents had allowed her to have wine. When it came time to open the bottles they discovered they had no bottle opener to do so. Up they went to Mr ‘O’ and for once it was something he did not stock. Not to be outdone he left his wife to look after the shop and drove home to get his own corkscrew which he brought to the house of the party and opened the first couple of bottles to make sure they knew how to do it, before leaving the opener with them overnight.

Mr ‘O’ remembered everyone’s name, knew where they lived and who lived next door to them. As we grew up and moved on he got to know the names of the new additions to our families and always asked how we were doing and sent good wishes. We in turn always paid a visit when we went back to visit our parents. The younger generation loved to go to see Mr ‘O’ and buy sweets they usually came away with a sweet in their mouth that he had slipped to them.

I know he managed to have a half hour away from the shop to see me walk down the aisle 30 years ago and he was also at the graveside for both funerals of my parents.

We are constantly told how modern times are better. Modern technology means we can actually buy items without uttering a word or seeing a smile. Nowadays in shops when asking about certain items we are told “If it is not on the shelf, then we do not have it”. The Mr ‘O’s’ of this world are fast disappearing and the world should mourn their passing.