Life's Like That.

The story of two batchelor brothers. One of who lost the love of his life through the disapproval of his mother for his girlfriend. Snobbery was alive and well in those days in Ireland, dear reader...

   My name is James Shanahan and my only claim to fame is to be born on Christmas Day, thus sharing the same birthday as God’s only son, though my birthday came one thousand nine hundred and sixty years after His birth.

 

   I was born in Dublin to parents who both engaged in farming, but I currently reside at Bric-a-Brac Road, Tralee, in the lovely County of Kerry. I live with my younger brother John. We have a sister named Kate and another brother named Tom, both of whom are married and living up the country, with families of their own. We rarely meet up these days unless at a family Christening, Wedding or Funeral. I suppose we’re all too busy getting on with our own lives. Poor John is a bit of a recluse, rarely venturing out these days. But he is very happy in his own company while I’m out collecting any little bit of news that comes my way, to bring home to him. He tells me proudly that I’m better than ‘The News of The World’ any day.

 

   I am five foot 6 inches of pure male testosterone, with shiny red hair (thanks to ‘Head & Shoulders’ Shampoo), which highlights my sparkling baby blue eyes. Would you believe this, once when I was going to ‘The Gents’ at our local pub - ‘The Nag’s Head’ (there’s a beautiful portrait of the owner’s wife painted on a metal sign which swings to and ‘fro in the breeze, just outside the pub door. George, the owner, called his pub after her I believe), anyway, on my way to ‘The Gents’ I had to pass by a group of young wans, and I’d almost reached my destination, quite close to where they were eyeing up the talent that night, when I heard one of them say, quite excitedly, “O God Majella, isn’t he sex on legs”? In spite of the hurry I was in, I turned back and though they weren’t looking in my direction, I couldn’t see another male within an a*s’s roar of where I was, so it had to be me they were talking about - hadn’t it? On my way back from ‘The Gents’, I said “Hello girls. How’re ye all tonight”? They all giggled shyly and huddled closer together. A sure sign they knew I’d overheard their earlier remark.

 

   However, it’s a long time now since I’ve had a female companion in my life. There was ever only one woman for me, and that was Rose Ryan. Rose had hair as long as the River Shannon and just as twisty, and her scarlet red bee-stung-look lips used to drive me wild with passion. When we’d be on a date I couldn’t wait for the night to end, to kiss Rose's luscious lips. It used to make my mouth water just thinking about it, still does, truth be told. Anyway, we were at a very serious stage in our relationship and I felt certain and sure we’d hear Wedding Bells being rung for us, so I decided it was time to bring Rose home to meet the parents. Dad took to Rose like a duck to water but Mother was cold and distant, not just to Rose, but to both of us. Every time Rose spoke Mother interrupted her. Poor Rose couldn’t get a word in at all, and at meal times both Rose’s and my plate was landed on the table in front of us with a fierce thump. Our three day planned visit ended after one. Rose was very cool with me and Mother wasted no time in writing to me to express her horror at I thinking of spending the rest of my life married to a woman who made chocolate sweets for a living, and me a respectable Civil Servant. Mother strongly urged to me seek psychiatric help, telling me that I was deluded. Just as that letter ended my relationship with Mother, my relationship with Rose also fell apart and ended abruptly, when shortly after Rose refused to see me anymore. There’s never been a woman in my life since Rose and there never will be, well, not in that way anyway. I’m friendly with all women who cross my path, and I laugh and joke away with them, but it ends there and I go home alone to tell John all my news for that night.

 

   I’m a very quiet man, and I took early retirement because I couldn’t bear to be in the same town as Rose, running the risk of bumping into her at some point in time, and maybe she’d have another fellow with her, in which case, I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions, when I reacted to seeing them. But I’ve gone back to school again as a mature student. I’m doing a course in ‘Creative Writing’ at the moment and I have to admit I’m enjoying it very much. It’s a mixed group of men and women, some retired like myself, but each with a unique story to tell. We all get along very well together, like a very loving family.

 

   I have no best friends. I have hundreds of acquaintances, but don’t feel the need to develop any deep friendships. I prefer to be friendly with everyone and leave it at that. Sure, I have my brother John and our two boxer dogs, Max and Minnie for company at home. What more would I want?

 

   I walk with a slight limp, due to an old Rugby injury which I acquired in my prime. I have some bad pain in the leg in frosty and in rainy weather, so there may some degree of arthritis there. A few ‘Ponstan’ tablets and I’m right as rain again. I’m also phobic of people coming too close to me.

 

   I often speak of the old days to John when we’re seated in front of our big open fire on the long Winter evenings, and we stroll down memory lane and chat for hours on end of the mornings we had on the home farm, when we were young. Each child in the family had their own chores to perform before leaving for the two mile trek to school. Our reward was given each Saturday night after our bath, as we made our way upstairs to our rooms. Dad would present each of us with a shining silver two shilling piece. On Sunday after ten o’clock Mass we visited Mrs. Henry’s shop where we spent our two shillings. We bought a comic, either ‘The Beano’ or ‘The Dandy’ and spent the rest of the money on enough sweets which usually lasted us to the following Thursday. There is something indefinable but very special about the 60’s, which will never be repeated in the decades to come.

 

   Tralee is a lovely town, a bustling hive of activity, and it abounds in funerals. Being a good Christian fellow, I go to every funeral I possibly can. I like to sympathise with the bereaved, and the fact that I don’t know them at all makes absolutely no difference at all to me, nor does it seem to them either. Everybody needs empathy and sympathy in their sad hour. That said it’s not the only reason why I go to funerals. If I were to tell you here and now the things I have heard those in front of me say, as I queued to shake hands with the bereaved, the hair would stand on the back of your neck with amazement, and it’s not always about the bereaved they’re speaking. Honest to God, you’d never believe it. I’ve heard more ‘secrets’ than all the Priests ever ordained have in confession. Because of my phobia I always stand at the very back of the crowd and should someone stand behind me, I allow them to go ahead of me. This gives me a great vantage point for ‘hearing things’. But, I’m not going to spill the beans here; you never know there might be a few red faces, so I’ll move on the second reason why I go to funerals.

 

   Once the deceased has been interred, the sympathizers are nearly always invited by the family to a meal, or at least soup and sandwiches and drinks at a local pub or hotel afterwards, as a way of saying thank you to those who have attended. Not alone do get a free substantial meal fit for a king, but also all the Guinness I can consume - and it doesn’t cost me a cent. Sometimes I get a bit the worse for wear at the end of a very long day, and some kind person always puts me in a taxi, pays the fare, and sends me home safely. Such great kindness humbles me greatly and feeds my determination to attend even more funerals than I presently go to.

 

   My good brother John thinks that’s a great idea, and ‘tis true for him. I get all the food and drink I can possibly fit into my ever expanding tummy, and sure, as John pointed out with his usual wisdom, it doesn’t cost me a cent, and it saves him the trouble of cooking a meal for two and I save the money I’d spend on it.  Sure the bereaved are happy, John is happy and am not I happy too? It’s an unusual situation that sees everybody happy, wouldn’t you say?

Author's Note

1) The News of The World is an English newspaper which hit the shelves of the Newsagent's on Sunday mornings 2) young wans = young ones

Reviews

[Tom]

It is a custom for some to attend funerals and maybe more than average but when kindred folk are mourning it is always seen as a blessing and a sign of respect to the dearly departed when those in attendance are plentiful, James being one but what if his life, his love had not been so impinged by a snobish, jealous mother, I doubt very much his position would be as so poetically, prophetically portayed!!

[Marie]

Dear Tom, thank you so very much for reading. I tried to add humour to the sad story. It is very interesting to read what you say about James and what if his life had been different, without the input of his haughty mother, Tom! Food for thought! Thank you so very much for reading and for your so kind comment, Tom. I am most grateful, dear friend. Wishing you a very lovely evening to enjoy...

[Samuel Dickens]

I can't imagine this being better written than it is, and the story held my attention in a firm grip all the way through. I even found myself, quite unintentionally, attempting an Irish accent while reading. James is such a good fellow and it breaks my heart that his mother caused him to lose his one true love. Furthermore, the fact that he is now ruined from ever seeking love again is doubly tragic. At least he has John, such as he is, to lend some comfort and purpose to his life. Could the story go on and eventually end on a happy note? My nature wants life to never be so cruel and think of ways to turn things around. This story is awsome in every way.

[Marie]

Dear Sam, there are no words in my vocabulary which could Thank you! enough for reading and for your most amazing review. As you have guessed, I am sure, this write is purely a figment of my imagination, without any kind of foundation whatever. I am so happy you slipped into attempting an Irish accent, but after that you would need to switch to a Kerry accent and believe me that would be far more difficult than the Irish accent. I am delighted to say I don't speak with either a Kerry or an Irish accent. I speak clearly and distinctly in a very soft voice thanks to five years of elocution lessons provided by my Mam. Our Deirdra speaks with a Kerry accent and I don't have clue what she's saying half the time, lol...Yes, mothers ruled the roost in those bygone days, Sam and destroyed many of their children's lives as a result. Yes, the story could go on, but only if you decided to take it up and go on with it! What do you think? I will help in any and every way I can if you should decide to create a happy ending, Sam. What do you say? THANK YOU! again for reading and for your wondrous review. I am SO happy you liked it and enjoyed reading it...

[Samuel Dickens]

I think only you could write another chapter. If I tried, I'm afraid it'd be a poor effort, lacking in genuineness. I have an idea, though. What if there was a lady who'd loved James at a distance, who'd also been led onto a less than desirable path? He could have known her in the past, but was so enthralled with Rose that he couldn't fairly assess her. So now we have two lonely little planets swirling in the cosmos, each longing for someone. It seems the possibilities are there for them to find one another. That's just one idea, but more are out there.

[Marie]

That's a very fine and wonderful idea, Sam. I will think about it, but somehow I can't see myself extending the story because when I had written as far as I did, the story ended at that point. On the other hand, you could work wonders with your excellent idea and I feel it would work very well for you. Think about it and the offer to finish the story on a happy note is there for you always, Sam. Thank you so very much, dear friend...