Life in the Public and Private EyeA Story by maturewriter An Irish Family running a Public House (Pub) in the 1940`s, their struggles with mental illness and how their children grew up and prospered. First Chapter �" Coming together, home and pub life. Brigid
was from a comfortable farming
background. Her father, James Lennon, was well read, drove a fancy pony and
trap and was reputed never to have done a hand`s turn in his life. His two
bachelor brothers did all the farm work but he was the boss. Brigid was his
favourite and while he occasionally indulged her whims, he brought her up to
appreciate right from wrong and not to be afraid of anyone, especially the
macho men who inhabited the rural surrounds of that small rural village of
Shercock at that time. “What
a wonderful surprise for my birthday, father, I`m thrilled, my new driving pony
is delightful” exclaimed Brigid, running in from the yard to the kitchen, with
the new pony tack in her hands. “Will
you help me to harness her up? I’m a bit nervous until she gets used to me” “Of
course darling, anything for you on your special day, key of the door, twenty
one after all” responded her doting father, delighted with her excited reaction
to his especially chosen gift. She
was destined to marry into a local family dynasty, the Wisemans, who had been
shopkeepers and landowners for three generations. She had met her future husband Francis at a
young farmer`s meeting and social event. He was tall, handsome, confident and
charming. He was a wonderfully smooth dancer, literally sweeping her off her
feet, and they never left the dance floor all night. Her father viewed Francis
as a great catch with him being the eldest son and sure to inherit the
Wiseman`s many businesses. James Lennon was delighted with the young couple and
encouraged the blossoming romance at every turn, taking them to race meetings,
as they all had a great interest in horse flesh. It
was lovely spring weather when Brigid & Francis stepped out together. Fresh
growth was every- where in the countryside, buds were breaking through on leaf
and daffodils were in massive profusion along the lanes, hedge rows and bye
ways. Francis was a bold lover and Brigid just swooned in his strong arms and
was passionately responsive to his masterly kisses. “Brigid, my beauty,
what a delight to share these special days with you, you are my darling, my
love, my delight” declared Francis, with such a look of devotion and high flush
of colour in his cheeks. “Will you do me the honour of being my wife?” offering a fabulous diamond heirloom ring
to his prospective partner. “I don`t believe it”
thrilled Brigid “I never dreamed that this day would come, I love you with all
my heart, Francis, of course I will marry you”. The
banns were soon called by the local Curate and they were married in late
summer. Francis was the eldest of his family but in truth he had no head for
business. He hated the slobbering drunks and lazy cute hoors who frequented his
parent`s public house. Waiting on some penniless bachelor lingering over a
single bottle of stout was a waste of time, as far as he was concerned. He was
a romantic at heart and secretly wrote poetry when he was out among the
livestock and herding Cows home for their twice daily milking. One day he had been day dreaming on his new
fiancé, penning these lines: “I want you to hear my
voice in your ear, to touch your face imagining it is my hand. I want your body
to shiver and quiver at the mere idea of mine. I want you to feel as though
life after me is dull, pointless, and very, very aggravating; that with me you
were lifted on a current you waited all your life to find, and had despaired of
finding, as though you were wading through a soggy swill of inanity and
ugliness every minute we are apart.” Reality
brought him down to earth with a crash. Home life was chaotic. There was no organisation,
sense or reason to daily activities. Everyone was called to `the pump` at the
same time. It was panic. No plan. A sense of tension was pervasive. Tempers
were short and ready to snap at any time. Meal times were erratic and you could
never call one hour of the day your own. Often two people were sent to do the
same job while other vital tasks were ignored. Some of the trusted Staff were
robbing their employers blind whilst others were used, abused and underpaid and
underappreciated. At
no point in time did the family actually know if they were making a profit or a
loss. Business was carried on in the same manner and methods, as dictated by
fashion passed on from one generation to their successors. An onerous burden of
customers `tick` was carried on the books, as customers were implicitly trusted
to settle their accounts seasonally but of course many abused this trust. As a
result a hard core of bad debts had built up within the business. The Bank
continued to allow their business to be carried, as they were an old family`
and considered good for it. Plus the Bank Manager was afraid to challenge the
problem head on, as he was near to retirement and he wanted a quiet life, not
annoyance. Francis
was a secret drinker, slyly covering his breath smell by chewing raw garlic. A
bottle was secreted away somewhere, usually in an out buildings or up in the
hay loft. Enough employees were on hand to ensure that he was never missed,
having become an expert liar when put under pressure for an explanation of his
whereabouts. Innocent Brigid was only to learn of his dark side when the ring
was already on her finger and it was too late for her �"
she was trapped. However
their early years were both passionate and fulfilling. Francis was charmed by
her influence and he tried to be both present and engaging in their new life
together. Unfortunately this did not last and his dark side came to the fore
and gradually took over his personality. Francis became an ogre and the more
she tried to encourage and change him, the more he resented her presence in his
life. They were living in an old part of the family home and he could not wait
to get his hands on the family fortune but he was in for a shock. There was no
pot of gold to be had, as he would later discover to his cost, just a mountain
of despair and debt. Brigid
took to the Public House trade like a natural, as if she had been born to it.
She introduced many changes to the business, including bottling Wisemans
branded whiskey and stout. Brigid `s sharp eye soon tracked down the main cause
of business losses and she had replaced the barmaid who was doing most of the
stealing. Her inherent confidence, self- assurance and pleasant nature, in
addition to her comeliness were appreciated by all of its customers, especially
the men who had the spending money in their pockets. Brigid had great time for
one and all, the big and the small and was scrupulously fair in all her
dealings. “Talk about
been thrown in the deep end” Brigid mused “But it`s the best way to learn and
I`m lucky that I`ve been given a free hand and to stamp my own personality and
changes around this place” Monthly
Fair Day of Shercock had a widespread attraction for dealers, buyers and
sellers and it contributed a lot of the income for the town`s business people. Brigid was up the town one Fair Day afternoon, returning some brandy
she had borrowed from a neighboring publican when she noticed a crowd had
gathered around a young woman singer. She had never seen a female street singer
before. Street singing was a male preserve. The male singer with the accordion,
whom she had witnessed earlier in the Fair Day of Shercock of August 1946, had
received no reward. The odds were stacked against our female singer. She waited for silence and without any further ado expertly hit the
strings of the banjo. The melodious sounds of the opening bars reverberated
across the street and got the attention of those nearby who saw her for the
first time and who no doubt were intrigued. She started to sing, some of the opening words of her song were:
“Me name, it is
Eileen McMahon, My age is scarcely eighteen, And I thank you
kind sir for your kindness, For you don`t
know how lonely I`ve been. “
It was an ideal opening song. It seemed to introduce and identify her.
The song had nationalistic overtones, which pleased the crowd. Those drifted
closer and formed a semi-circle around her. All in Paddy Short`s pub came out
and swelled the circle wider. The Corduff men coming out of the nearby horse
yard joined the throng.
As she was concluding her song, Sergeant McDonald started crossing the
street towards the throng. Was he going to disperse the crowd and move her on?
He paused at the edge of the semi-circle waiting politely for her to finish. Whether she saw him or not or knew he was a Corkman, Brigid would
never know, but without stopping she immediately commenced another song,
playing the first few bars loudly and fast before singing.
“It seems, like
only yesterday I sailed away
from Cork I sailed away
from Erin`s Isle, And landed in
New York, The divil a wan
to meet me there A stranger on
the shore.”
She finished the song with the verse that commenced:
“And now I`m
going back again, To dear old
Erin`s Isle, The boys will
greet me on the shore, The cailins with
a smile.”
She paused when she had finished for a reaction. The presence of the
Sergeant caused an audible silence. Would he disperse the large crowd by asking
her to move on? His action was pleasantly surprising �" he said “good girl” and
tossed a coin, which landed at her feet. It was half a crown which to Brigid in
those days was an enormous amount of money. The most a street singer would get
from anyone would be a penny, and that was achieved by going around collecting
after singing which often had the affect of dispersing the listeners. A hail of
six penny and shilling pieces followed from the crowd who applauded and shouted
“more”. The sergeant discreetly slipped quietly away about his duty to some
other vantage point of the Fair (no doubt within earshot).
She played non-stop for the next hour. The coins tossed in after each
song remained on the ground. A young tinker woman with a baby under her
colorful plaid shawl was passing. She had an empty cardboard box in her hand,
which no doubt she was going to use for begging. She saw the singer`s
predicament and she gathered up in the shoe box the coins on the pavement and
then placed them in the box, half full of coins on the windowsill behind the
singer who nodded her thanks and she sang on.
After another half an hour the singer on completing the song said:
“I`m sorry men but I`ve a pain in my head so if ye don`t mind, I`ll finish
after the next song.” There was appreciation and courtesy all around when
finally she was allowed to stop. The crowd cheered and applauded and then
slowly dispersed.
Afterwards, Brigid learned that our mysterious singer was none other
than Margaret Barry (before she became famous). The first female singer at
Shercock Fair, she had ventured into the male preserve. She had stopped and
entertained the fair for about two hours by her non-stop singing. Everyone was
very much the better for seeing and listening to her. Her takings must have
been a record. It was a privilege for Brigid to have witnessed that great occasion �"
the debut of a young female street singer at Shercock Fair.
Many years later, Margaret was discovered by an American, while
singing on the streets of Dundalk. She went to the US where she became hugely
popular among the folk singing fraternity. Whatever you may think of her recordings which she made in later life
�" Brigid would assure you that on that sunny day at the Shercock Fair, she was
in her prime and at her very best. Brigid
introduced a very popular and reasonably priced `hotpot` dinner for the hungry,
long travelling dealers and farmers, also contributing to increased bar takings
Her mother-in-law Kate loved her and they soon became the closest of confidants
. Kate had lost her only daughter from Spanish Flu and all her all her hopes
and dreams with her passing. Her flourishing relationship with Brigid helped to
replace some of her heart ache. “I can`t image how close
we have become in such a short length of time” giggled Kay “You`re like a
breath of fresh air around this musty old place and all the customers love you,
such a flirt and that sparkle in your eye !”.
Unfortunately
this somehow contributed to Francis resenting her presence even more, as he
viewed Brigid as usurping his place in the family structure. In reality this
was due to his self-isolation and effective withdrawal. He secretly seethed, as
she was getting the affection and attention that he had yearned for and
perceived that he never received. But this was damaged cognitive thinking. In
reality, he suffered from an undiagnosed Bi-Polar condition called Cyclothymia �"
mood swings from high to low �"
that would not be diagnosed for another two generations, having been passed to
further generations. Untreated,
it evolved into an unpredictable personality disorder over which Francis became
in reality a victim help in its grip. During times of mania, he was on top of
the world, great company and a sparkling wit. It also contributed towards great
poetic creation and unlimited outpourings and inspirations. Sleep
was unnecessary but eventually he became burnt out and collapsed in a heap,
often sleeping uninterrupted for forty eight to seventy two hours. A sweeping
low depression might then result and Francis did not want to speak, eat, work
or function. People just came to avoid him and label him as a “moody bugger”.
It was a living hell; both for Francis and those closest to him, as it his mood
swings were so unpredictable. Francis did not receive the understanding or
support that he so desperately needed but, in reality, no cure was offered or
available at that time in Ireland. Sitting
by the fire late, after pub closing time, Brigid confided her worries about
Francis to Kay: “I
just don`t know what to do, he gets mad with me if I try to help and flies off
in a rage at the slightest provocation.” “I
have been at my wits end with him as well for years” agreed Kay “His father was
so like him, the life and soul of the party. A great wit, then snapping the
nose of everybody without any warning.” “It`s
putting a great strain on our marriage, only for the fact that you are here,
Kay, I think that I would have gone home to my father a long time ago” said
Brigid gloomily. Francis
and Brigid`s two sons, Owen and Seamus were mostly reared by their Grandmother
and a woman called Janey MacEnaney, a widow woman without issue, who lived
across the road. Both boys were contented and happy with their lot, carefree,
well-adjusted and good students. This was somewhat of a minor miracle, in view
of the dysfunctional nature of their father`s relationship within the extended family
structure. Francis`s
mental state continued to deteriorate, undiagnosed and self-medicated by the
contents of the bottom of the bottle. One drunken night, he forced himself on
the sleeping figure of his wife. He was upon her before she had realised that
she was unable to fight him, a loathsome drunken brute. Brigid`s skin crawled
and a hatred for him penetrated to her core, as he had lost any decent semblance
of the charming man who had swept her off her feet, so many years ago. “You
filthy b*****d” screamed Brigid “You are treating me like a cheap w***e, just
like I was dirt”. Her
husband was oblivious to her words or her pain; he was in a deep sleeping
stupor, snoring in her ear. It
was not long before she developed morning sickness and terrible tiredness. The
pregnancy was confirmed and she loathed the child growing within her womb. She
had little time for herself, or to rest, as was often on her feet for eighteen
hours a day. Life was hard. Life was a struggle. Business was up and down. There
was an economic war between Ireland and Great Britain and local livestock
exports suffered. Money dried up in the local economy. Tick had to be curtailed
and custom was lost as the bad debtors left their debt behind and went
elsewhere. That was the final insult. There was no point in taking them to
court �"
the scandal would cut both way and have terrible consequences for the Wiseman`s
reputation and unfairly label them as money grabbers. Second Chapter �"
Cross Border Venture.
Profits
were hard to come by but the `Emergency` presented an opportunity for
shopkeepers to deal in smuggled goods for a quick killing. Shercock was only 14
miles from the border with Northern Ireland which was poorly policed. Tea and sugar was in very short supply in the
South and fresh butter was in very short supply in the North, hence money could
be made on both sides. Nightly sorties became commonplace and everything was
word of mouth and based on last minute tip offs, in order to avoid giving any
advance knowledge of smuggling movements to the Authorities. Informers were the
big threat and it was thus a very risky business to rely on tip-offs. The
penalties were very severe if caught, as well as huge damage to one`s good
business name and reputation.
One
incidence involving the Wisemans occurred late one Winter`s night on an unlit
unapproved road between Culloville, Co Armagh (North) and Castleblayney, Co.
Monaghan (South). On board a small van was a consignment of tea being smuggled
back to Shercock. It
was a dreadful night, raining cats and dogs. Just south of the border they
encountered a man wearing an oilskin cape, riding a bicycle, who appeared to be
soaked to the skin. “Pull over and give
him a lift”,
said Brigid to the driver. “Good
night Madam, many thanks for stopping”,
said the darkened figure. “Throw your bike in
the back and squeeze in here, we`re going through Castleblayney” “That`s grand,
anything to escape this filthy weather”.
They
chatted away amiably on the way about local politics, football and how long the
war was expected to last. In no time at
all they had arrived outside the police station in Castleblayney. “This will do me grand”,
said the amiable stranger. Hopping
out and retrieving his bike from on top of the covered load of smuggled tea. Then
taking out his white hat, with the Customs harp symbol, from under his cape and
placing it squarely on his head, he gave a smart salute and a cheery wave: “Good bye to you all
and keep between the ditches”. They
drove off to Shercock some ten miles or so away. Not one word was said within
the van, as if a code of silence had descended regarding their let-off by a
revenue official that could have landed them in the court with either a hefty
fine or prison sentence, or both. The
organs of the State have long memories when they are crossed and word had
gotten to them that the Wisemans had transgressed the law during the Emergency.
After the war, the sale of butter to Northern Ireland and England had been
subsidised by the Free State Government. In order to distinguish the product
sold in the Free State the butter parchment bore a number of tiny perforations,
to indicate that duty had been paid. A sting operation was mounted by the Free
State Customs Authorities to discover consignments of butter that had been sold
without duty paid to local shopkeepers. Times
were hard and it was impossible to resist such a tempting offer, so the
Wisemans purchased several boxes of butter for cash, no questions asked. Later that night their premises were raided
by a score of uniformed Customs Officers. Caught red handed without any
defense, leading to a court appearance and a stiff fine, as the butter clearly
did not contain the requisite pinprick foil duty paid markings. The tag “smuggled
butter”
followed the family for many subsequent years, much to their discomfort, shame
and embarrassment. Owen
and Seamus were left in little doubt that they bore a proud family name and
were expected to do the name proud. The local headmaster drank in their family
public house and Brigid exploited his weakness for drink by allowing him to run
up drinking debts that he could never hope to repay. She then put the squeeze
on him to give her two sons extra grinds in her house on Saturdays which
resulted in them both gaining scholarships to St. Patrick`s Secondary School
Cavan. They both studied hard and excelled in their studies. OWEN was always
destined to enter the family business and his mother had purchased a run down
hardware shop at the other end of Shercock for him to run. Seamus
went to work for PJ Carroll cigarette factory in Dundalk as a salesman. He
could reputedly sell “sand
to the Arabs”,
being of a charming disposition and possessed of natural good looks. He soon
rose through the ranks to middle management but he was somewhat of a spend
thrift and a lady`s man, so his ambitions lay more in a hedonistic lifestyle. Owen,
on the other hand, was shy with women and awkward in his social manners. He was
opposite to his brother and was both hard working and ambitious. He dedicated
his energies to building up his hardware business and became very successful. Third
Chapter �" Angela`s Birth and Francis`s Recovery.
Brigid`s pregnancy was approaching the time of her
confinement. The latter months were, thankfully, easier to bear, as physically
she was more rested, due the results of the efficiencies that she had
implemented into the business. An air of calm prevailed and tensions were more
the exception than the norm. It was
just after Christmas, recent snowfalls had contributed to large show drifts and
road travelling very hazardous. Unfortunately the Nursing Home was in Ballybay,
some 8 miles away on a treacherous road.
The whole family were in the car when Brigid`s urgent labour pains came
upon her. “Francie, you will
have to get me down to the Mercy Nuns in Ballybay, I don`t know how long I can
last, as the contractions are coming fast” pleaded Brigid. He was doing his best to keep the car on the road but
suddenly it slipped backwards down a steep hill and slid into the ditch. He
struggled out into the blizzard but it was hard to know where the road stopped
and the tops of the ditches began. Owen and Seamus were frightened. They were
both shivering, as all they were wearing were two thin cowboy suits, as Francie
had forgotten to dress them properly in underwear and winter clothes that
morning. Just then, a local farmer approached the stricken
vehicle with a broad turf shovel, as he had spotted the twinkling car lights
from his kitchen window. He had two strong sons with him and, without a word
spoken between them; they soon had the car extracted and back on the road
heading once more for Ballybay. “God bless you men,
you may have saved both me and my unborn child this night”, was Brigid`s
thankful prayer to them. With no more drama or incident, the Wisemans made it
safely to the Nursing home. They were welcomed by a roaring fire in the front
hall and quickly brought Brigid to the delivery suite. She had not even a
chance to remove her winter boots before her beautiful baby daughter was safely
delivered. Brigid`s hardened heart melted, as soon as she held
her newborn baby daughter. “She look likes a little Angel, half way between Heaven and Earth with
all that has happened this night. I am going to name her Angela” she said to
Francie, with a beatific smile and inner glow of contentment. The Nuns had fed and clothed the two young boys and
they were delighted to hear that they had a new sister. After a brief visit to
the nursery, it was time for them to return back home, as even heavier snowfalls
and sharp frost had been forecast. Angela turned out to be the delight of everyone. She
was spoiled rotten and became the centre of family attention. Growing up, her
two brothers had a great influence on her and she turned out to be quite the
tomboy. Aged three, one day she climbed unobserved out of cot and on to a
dresser and drank from a Lucozade bottle which unfortunately contained liquid
for dehorning calves. Her father heard a
sound of breaking glass and came running. Immediately, to his horror, he knew
what Angela had swallowed. He swooped her up and drove her to Hospital at crazy
speeds. They were just in time to save her life, as the caustic liquid had not
reached any vital organs. After emergency intervention, she was taken into
intensive care and put on a drip through her ankle. . Fourteen days later, she
was allowed jelly and ice cream - her favourite. Less serious incidents occurred her early years,
including getting chalk stuck up her nose on her first day at school - solved
by putting pepper up her free nostril. She was found up town, coming out from
an entryway looking for toilet paper with her knickers down. Angela never had a
dull moment, she was quite the character. With beautiful blonde curls and a sweet disposition,
it belied the fact that she had hidden tiger claws when needed. Her parents
doted on her and she brought them closer together as a couple. Ringworm was a
nasty childhood condition at that time and unfortunately Angela caught a bad
outbreak on her scalp that was very difficult to eliminate. A renowned herbalist, Sean Boylan of Dunboyne, Co.
Meath was said to have the only permanent cure for this condition. Arrangements were made for Angela to be seen
by him and after three uncomfortable treatments, she was better. Sean had gotten into conversation with Francie and
learned of his problems with alcohol and depression. “If you could manage to kick the booze, Francie, I have
a herbal treatment that will help to stabilize your mood swings, it`s called
St. Johns Wort and has a proven efficacy” urged Sean, keen to help this
desperate poor man, obviously in dire need of a lifeline. So Francie entered a twelve step Alcoholics Anonymous
program, and after one or two slips, was fully sober after six months when he
went back to see Sean Boylan. “Good man, Francie, I hear that you have kept your side
of the deal and I am keen to do my bit for you, as promised, so make an
infusion of tea three times a day with these herbs. You will find them bitter
to taste at first but you will soon get used to them after a while. Persevere
and let me know how you are getting on.” Francie took to his new regime with
gusto. Brigid supported him every step of the way. She cooked nourishing,
healthy foods and this also had the side effect of their eating their meals
together, at regular times, including the children, so a familial air of
normality and mutual interest ensued. Francie got great encouragement from
his fellow members of AA and Sean Boylan was a familiar voice on the
phone. After a further few months,
Francie found his moods lifting, his becoming more stable and outgoing in his
personality. His former hidden sweet nature returned and Brigid found herself
once more being attracted to the loving and decent man that she first knew. In turn, Francie made time to take
Brigid out dancing and made sure that Sunday night was always their special
time together, when they would not be available for either family or business.
Laughter and good natured teasing returned to the house and the children were delighted
to see both of their parents loving touches, hugs and kisses. His poetic muse, once more had
returned to Francie and he penned this following ditty, based on the details of
an infamous local court case: Whiskey in My Tay. “I was a bold
teetotaler for three long years or more I only took the
smallest sup, when up the ructions rose From Carrickmacross
to Crossmaglen, as any man will vow "This man he
was a sober man for three long years or more So all you bred teetotalers, if sober you may be
The economic climate continued to improve and, with that, the profitability
of the Wiseman business. They were on good term with their Bank and Creditors.
With some foresight and business acumen, the local Shercock trade association
had formed a co-operative and established a state of the art Cattle Mart on the
town outskirts, as their long established Fair was in terminal decline. Fishing
and Boating Tourism was booming in the locality, especially British anglers,
who boosted guesthouse and pub takings. The town, for the first time, had
succeeded in garnering the County Fleadh Ceoil which turned out to be a
brilliant cultural and financial weekend success. Wisemans had set up a huge bar in the potato
shed, staffed by ten bar staff. Angela ran a busy tea stall and everyone was
fully deployed. Later that night, the family gathered around their parent`s bed
which was covered in currency, to count the day`s takings. “I have never seen
so much money in one place, in all my life” was Brigid`s cry of delight,
grasping a load of £10`s and £20`s and throwing them to the ceiling. Angela had grown up into a studious but contented young woman. She had
studied hard in Loreto College Cavan and had obtained top marks, resulting in
her being awarded one of only three County Council scholarships to enable her
to study medicine in University College Dublin. A lorry from Wisemans went
weekly to Dublin to collect loads of animal feeds or coal from Dublin Port.
This allowed Angela to be supplied with food and other requisites from home, at
cost price. At that time, the family owned a house on South Circular Road, Dublin 8
which they had let out to students in flats, allowing Angela to keep order and
supervise. So with this base, she happily progressed with her studies and was
eventually conferred with a Bachelor of Medicine degree. She went abroad with
the Medicine sans Frontier charitable organisation which allowed her great
freedom and to establish her own life. . Brigid and Francie were cuddling in front of a cosy fire and recalling
the events of their lives to date: “We have been so
blessed and have overcome real difficulties and challenges and are still
together, Francie, after all these years” said Brigid. “So fortunate,
Brigid, I could never have done it without you by my side. We have such
wonderful children and they make us so proud. We couldn't ask for anything more
to make our lives complete” mused Francie. With that, they drifted off to sleep
in each other`s arms, having quietly been tenderly covered with a Oxford rug by
Anne and with her tender kiss gently on their foreheads “It`s us that have
been fortunate to have such dedicated and loving parents” thought Angela to
herself, as she boarded the Air France plane to Paris and then onwards to
Liberia, as a volunteer medic with Medicine Sans Frontier to help to deal with
the Ebola crisis in that country. .
Fourth
Chapter �" Angela`s fight with MSF against Ebola in Liberia.
It’s awfully hot in Liberia. Angela had a terrible day.
She entered the high-risk zone twice, trying to do everything she could do to
help her patients in their fight against the terrible disease that consumed
them. Everything about that assignment was different for her; from
the no touching policy, to the multitude of safety protocols, to the savageness of the
disease. But she adjusted as best as she could to most of it. No handshakes, no
hugs, no pats on the back. Not touching anyone became the norm, so much so that
when someone did accidentally touched your body; you couldn’t help but flinch
in horror. The safety protocols also became the standard norm, strictly
observed by everyone. Angela`s favorite chinos were completely ruined from the
barrage of chlorine that was sprayed on her feet every time she enter a new
area; be it the office compound, the Ebola Management Centre (EMC), or the staff
housing unit . Even though there was no way to grow accustomed to the disease, fortunately
as soon as Angela had arrived in the medical centre, the number of confirmed Ebola cases
began decreasing significantly: a daily average of less than 15 patients for
two consecutive weeks! For nearly a month and a half to date, Angela toiled away to oversee the completion of the Ebola Management Centre (EMC) compound. The work was complicated,
arduous,
heartbreaking but
rewarding. In the EMC every single task took much longer than it should have
because the personal protective equipment that kept everyone safe complicated
even the simplest of tasks. Twenty minutes to set an intravenous line for a
patient that, in obvious hypovolemic shock (an emergency condition in which
severe blood and fluid loss makes the heart unable to pump enough blood to the
body) due
to vomiting and diarrhea, lay in convulsing pain in his bed on the floor. A tall and strong man, who only a few days previously was
taking care of his three children as their only support after his wife died on
arrival at the medical centre, was that day not strong enough to sit up. He
screamed in pain when Angela touched his stomach, and his eyes showed the despair of
knowing that his
youngest son was agonizing on the next bed over. Angela did everything that could be done. In reality
there was not a lot that could be done, apart from administering intravenous
fluids and nutrients and monitoring blood pressure. After that it was a matter
of allowing the immune system to kick into gear. She left knowing that was the last time she
would see him alive. Outside, in her guest house, his other two children
waited. The two best-behaved children she had ever seen. She watched them
closely because, sadly, they are also on the contact list even though they are
not showing any symptoms yet. Angela didn’t know how she would tell them their father is
dying and that they are about to be left completely alone in life; while
knowing that even though they still don’t show any signs, they would hardly be
accepted at a family member’s home, feared as carriers of the disease. Some weeks later Angela was glad to reflect that these
two children orphaned by Ebola, after staying in their guest house for several
days, were able to be placed with family members willing to look after them.
They remained in rude health at that present time. Angela sat down for a moment and turned her computer on in an attempt to isolate
herself from that terrible reality. Facebook, why not? It always helped to look
for comfort in her friends’ comments, search for their smiles in their photos,
read their stories, happier than her own. What she found almost knocked her off her chair. More than
one person had posted the most absurd and even dangerous “news” she could
imagine. According to one, Ebola did not exist. It was a lie from Western
governments or a plan to terminate the population of Africa. There was also the
friend who posted that International NGO workers had devised a “vaccine” to
inject the disease into their patients. Those sharing this information are
educated and smart, and they were telling all their contacts that this was a
hoax. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening in Liberia. This was just a
macabre Western plot to despoil them of their riches. Angela was unable to describe her
feelings. She couldn’t believe this is what the world thought of her struggle;
of the struggle of national nurses who had been risking their lives for over
six months in an attempt to save their fellow citizens, her patient’s daily
struggle for their lives, lonely children in isolation rooms, mothers crying
over their children, entire families destroyed by this virus, fortunate
survivors who do not have the privilege of burying their dead. The dead who lay in the huge compound graveyard, where only a
small board distinguished one tomb from the next. What more could she say to convince people at home that this
was real? Why didn’t people who published those lies stop and think of the
dangers of convincing people to dismiss all precautions because Ebola did not
exist? There in Liberia, the NGO team visited the towns to convince
people this was a real threat in an attempt to halt the progress of this
terrible disease, and they were successful. But on seeing the Facebook messages, Angela
seriously wondered what type of team would have to visit her country and
explain to her people that Ebola was real. Angela voluntarily worked as an overseas health professional for some
substantial time now and none
of her previous assignments have ever been breaking news until then. That was a problem on many different levels. It was a problem
because no one cared about high HIV/AIDS infection rates in Kenya. It was a
problem because no one cared about the high infant and maternal mortality rates
in Laos. It was a problem because no one cared about the thousands of South
Sudanese refugees walking across the Ethiopian border every week. But now one person has died of Ebola in the UK and the
country and Ireland were on high alert. So much so, in fact, that some of her
friends and family were reluctant to see me upon her return. She was genuinely
more anxious to return to Ireland and face stigmatization for her assignment
period in
Liberia than she was to come to the country in the first place. Angela could not
even begin to imagine what the immigration agents at Dublin airport were going
to do when they saw passport stamps for Liberia and Guinea. She was hoping that she would have an easy integration back
into Irish society… No point in focusing on what was outside her control,
back to the now and the previous day was a day of three miracles �" two of the NGO`s
sickest ever patients were discharged, and a baby girl survived against all the
odds. When Hassan had been brought in, he was almost dead. He
wasn’t moving or speaking; he had constant diarrhea; he was confused,
disorientated and lethargic. The nurses were amazing; they’d spend half an hour
at a time trying to feed him and give him water. Then, one day, when Angela
went into the high-risk zone, he was talking again. The next day he was sitting
up in bed, and said to her “’Tomorrow, I’m going to walk”. The following day,
he walked outside to where all the recovering patients sat. Angela couldn’t
believe the transformation �" even his face had changed. By the next day he was
surrounded by a group of friends and was playing cards with them. Hassan’s closest friend in the centre was Mohamed, the second
sickest patient Angela had ever seen. One night Mohamed became angry and
confused. It’s was usually a very bad sign when people develop mental problems.
He was threatening the other patients, who started panicking and running
through the corridors, trying to get away from him. Eventually a hygienist and a water and sanitation specialist
persuaded him to take an anti-psychotic drug, which knocked him out. When
Mohamed woke up, he was calm again, and from then on he went from strength to
strength. He sat outside with Hassan, the two of them playing cards, making
jokes and saying how healthy they felt. And the next day they were discharged,
and left together for their respective homes. The NGO`s had also discharged Hassan’s 10-month-old niece, Kazumba. The baby had arrived
with her mother, who had Ebola, in an ambulance alongside lots of
Ebola-positive patients. Despite this, and despite being breastfed, she was
negative when tested. She was put in a separate cubicle, but soon she developed
a fever and doctors started treating her with antibiotics. But when she was
retested after a week, it was discovered she was still negative, so she was
able to go home with her uncle. Her mother was also tested and found to be also
negative. A large number of the centre`s patients were nearly recovered
�" they are just waiting for a final negative test result �" so the atmosphere in
the high-risk zone was really positive. Some of the women had formed a group and became friends; they
took baths together, told jokes, ran races along the corridor to keep fit,
danced together. Angela happily danced along with them in her protective suit. The women supported each other. When Ebola patients start
recovering they became super hungry �" three meals were not enough. One woman
asked her family to bring food, and then shared it with all the others. Another
woman was very weak; she was vomiting and had diarrhea, but the main problem
was depression. Both her mother and aunt had died, and altogether she had lost
eleven members of her extended family. She was never seen smiling, and she didn’t want to
talk. But now she was part of the group, and she was talking and shouting along
with the others. Only a few days previously, the Ebola Management Centre (EMC) had kept Angela
extremely busy. There were close to 300 individuals devoted to doing everything
possible to reduce the mortality of their Ebola patients without compromising
personal safety. On-duty entries kept constant records of the sickest patients
and the strategies to help them survive. Then one day soon afterwards, two dumbfounded doctors stared at their empty
blackboard. There were no more patients. It was true that doctors are few of the professionals who
tirelessly struggled to run out of work, and in that type of project, it was
even truer. But only a week previously they had not time to rest, they spent
their time trying to optimizee entries into the high-risk zone to devote as much of their
time as possible to too many patients in terrible conditions. It was hard to believe the morning that the last patient was
discharged; he left smiling with his letter certifying him “negative for Ebola” in his hand, ready to go
on with his life. And with his work, as the last patient Angela had that day
was a member of the centre`s team. He worked in the burial team, one of the
saddest and hardest jobs at that time. However, they couldn’t stop reminding their selves that it
was too early to claim victory. They knew other treatment facilities were in this situation
months ago, only to be flooded again with more than 100 patients a few weeks
later. Once the situation returned to “normal” in the towns, regular activities
tended to resume, of course. Opening borders, markets, schools… with the
subsequent increase in movement among cities and countries, increased contact.
With that, of course, came fear of the infections’ comeback. Any return to
normal life would have to be carefully managed. It was difficult to resist enthusiasm and thoughts: what if
they were successful that time? What if they were looking at the potential end
of this terrible epidemic- at least up there in the north of Liberia? Angela knew of other EMC`s in Guinea and Sierra Leone that were still flooded with patients.
But that day in their treatment facility they allowed themselves some hope. She thought that, for the first time in her
mission she would return back to base with some sunlight left in the sky and in
time to relax and, for once, enjoy a proper dinner and focus on her plans to
return home. Due to her heavy work schedule up to that point,, Angela had only been
casually monitoring the rest of the World`s perception of Ebola and she was shocked
to learn the extent of the hysteria in her office debriefings. But the worse
part had yet to occur. Three days after she had landed in the US, one of their
returning volunteer doctors tested positive for Ebola and the other shoe dropped. Even
though Angela had absolutely no symptoms, she was also then considered part of the potential
plague. She followed the stories and waited anxiously as Irish state authorities declared a mandatory
quarantine for all returned volunteers. Even though the quarantine was revoked
days later, her thirty fourth birthday was spent indoors; for fear that the
media would discover she was in town and declare her a bio hazard. In comparison to her co-workers, Angela`s twenty one day
incubation period was a breeze, a minor inconvenience. While she wasn’t
physically quarantined, the psychological and social effects of having worked
in an EMC reverberated around her life daily during this quarantine period. So her heart was filled with thanks going out to the brave
volunteer medical champions and to the NGO essential office and backup staff, which fought against the
ridiculously non-medically justifiable based reactions to returned volunteers.
While she could see the cause for concern in some matters, it’s was a horrible
feeling to be treated like a bio hazardous terroristt, for
example by jjust
going on a bike ride or catching a public bus, after returning from performing some
of the most fulfilling and challenging work in her life. After a brief
visit home to see her parents and brothers, Angela returned once again to Paris
to take up her professional life there once more. Because she had
previously worked with the French medical organisation, Medicine sans Frontier,
she was faced with little red tape in getting registered as a medical
practitioner, apart from taking a French proficiency test and a medical
examination for public liability insurance. Angela had found a spacious 19th
Century decorated two bed roomed apartment on the southern outskirts of Paris.
It was close to the A6, nicknamed the highway to the sun, as it was the main
access route south to the Mediterranean French Rivera. This would enable her to take regular visits
to San Trope, as she had the use of a friend`s sailing yacht and seaside
apartment whenever they wished. An elderly doctor, Pierre, was happy to employ
her in his medical practice, as he was near to retirement and wanted to ease
down rather than to give up work completely. If the arrangement worked out to
their mutual satisfaction, there was the possibility of her becoming a junior
partner and possibly buying him out in time.
Angela lived close to a Paris Metro station and so made the best of her
free evenings and weekends, by attending Art and Painting Exhibitions, Theatre,
Circus, Poetic and Literary Orations. She accumulated a wide circle of like
minded friends and acquaintances, especially those with cultural leanings. Life in Shercock continued at a sleepy pace, without any real up or
downs or drama, for Brigid and Francie. Of course they had been very worried
about Angela but were greatly relieved to see her and be reassured that she was
in full health after her perilous venture in Liberia. Fifth Chapter �" Seamus`s life at home and abroad. Seamus Wiseman was living the high
life. He had a very good salary with P.J. Carroll and Co, Dundalk cigarette
manufacturing firm, as well as a very generous entertainment and travel
expenses account. He travelled around all parts of the island, as a company
representative. Just like a sailor, he was reputed to have a girlfriend in
every port. A sophisticated, elegantly attired man of unlimited confidence and
charm, many of these girls while suspecting that he was not monogamous,
nonetheless seemed to be happy to look the other way, so to speak. Seamus was in
fact quite sexually promiscuous but single females in Ireland in the 1940`s
were relatively unsophisticated and innocent in the ways of the world, thus
facilitating Seamus having his wicked way with them. He seemed to be a man
governed by the lack of a moral conscience and he was prepared to make any
promise, use any bribe of gifts or use well practised flattery to overcome any
female objections to his sexual advances. Having a modern company car at his
disposal, he was able to slip over the border, so had unlimited access to birth
control products and, at times, seemed to just as much a travelling
pharmaceutical distributors of such forbidden items in Catholic Ireland. Morals
and scruples were never to become an obstacle to this modern day Casanova. Over time, this shallow life lost its
appeal for Seamus and he had become bored of the single life, always living out
of a suitcase and going from one hotel to another. Somewhat of a spendthrift,
no matter how much money passed through his hands, he just seemed to squander
it away. Eventually his charming run of luck ran out and he got one of his
conquests pregnant. Being the moral coward that he was Seamus was not prepared
to do the decent thing by marrying her and settle down to married life. In
reality there would have been no real basis for such a marriage, after all it
was just a quick passionate tryst one night in the back seat of his car. Seamus
knew that his life of unbounded hedonism was rapidly coming to an end and that
he was facing sobering realities. So he did the best thing for himself
and took the emigrant boat to America, knowing full well that he was burning
his bridges behind him and would forever be a wanted man if he ever returned
home. He had a secondary school friend, Joe, working for IBM in New York, who
was able to get Seamus a job on the junior level of their human resources
department. Seamus`s lifetime of bluff and confidence enabled him to just keep
ahead of his work demands while he courted female company employees, in order
to copy their knowledge and working techniques. It was on this basis that he
was able to pass IBM`s six month probationary proficiency test and attain
permanency. Within a few years he had also obtained his alien residency permit,
as IBM had many high level government contracts. Seamus was conscripted into the
American Army and was sent overseas to the Korean conflict. Luckily for him, he
was retained at the headquarter corps, as an administrator and assistant to the
Lieutenant Colonel in charge of soldier welfare. Over a period of three years,
Seamus never saw front line action while observing the regular number of
conflict casualties that were brought to the rear for medical attention.
Returning once more to New York at the end of his draft assignment, at the war
end, he was able to take advantage of the G.I. Bill and go to New York
University and complete a Degree in Marketing and Business Administration. Coupled with this degree and his status as a
war hero, despite having never fired a shot, he got quick promotion in the
rapidly expanding BIM Company. Life was good for Seamus at that time, without a
seeming care in the world. “How do you fancy
coming out to Gaelic Park this weekend?” invited Seamus`s school friend, Joe
from home. “It`s the St. Patricks weekend and there`s bound to be plenty of
barbequed food, culture, booze and craic” “Sounds good to
me, I`m at a loose end as it turns out” agreed Seamus. “Count me in, I`ll pick
you up at your apartment at eleven a.m.”. It turned
out to be a great day, as Joe had promised. There was a real buzz about the
place and everyone was in high spirits. The food and alcohol had been
sponsored, so that added to the heady atmosphere. After the barbeque, Irish
dancing, games of Football and Hurling, followed and then a colourful St.
Patricks Day carnival parade of floats. Everyone adjourned to the Clubhouse for
An Ceilidh Mor and a passionate night of craic was enjoyed by all. All his
dance moves came back to Seamus from his days in the Arran Mor, Donegal
Gaelthacht; Walls of Limerick, Siege of Ennis and such like. It had been years
since he had such genuine fun, even though this type of dancing was considered
unfashionable at home in sophisticated Ireland, it was still loved by
emigrants. Towards the end of the night, Seamus invited a girl out to dance,
named Mary Lyons, originally from Kingscourt, just ten miles from Seamus`s home
town. They had plenty in common, especially a shared love of Cavan GAA football
and Irish folklore. They got on swimmingly and made a date to meet in the Bronx
Zoo, the following weekend. Seamus had
genuinely hanged up his foul ways of treating women, since he came to America.
In part he was forced to do so, as New York women were worldly and could easily
see through his pathetic attempts to schmooze them over. They had their own
resources and had high expectations, were very choosy with which men they would
consent to date. Their sexes were not
necessary exclusive, so the tables had been turned on males. This brought
Seamus to his senses and he realised that there were no longer any easy
pickings to be had. For this reason he was not going to abuse his chance with
such a genuine lady, as Mary. Saturday
was a beautiful spring morning and Seamus had a spring in his step, as he
presented Mary with a lovely arrangement of seasonal flowers outside the Zoo
entrance. Mary looked wonderful in her loveliest canary yellow frock and
matching jewellery. Seamus swept her off
her feet, swung her around and kissed her on both cheeks before setting her
down. Mary`s flushed colour and girlish gasp gave away her feeling of
unexpected delight. “Oh Seamus, you’re a terrible man, taking such
liberties with me” giggled Mary. “Ah go
on Mary, a beautiful girl such as you should never let your feet touch the
ground, you’re like an Angel, and you’re so lovely.” Seamus urged. They ambled
hand in hand, around the various islands, which contained different Zoo animal
family enclosures. There had been numerous animal babies recently, so lots of
cute babies of different species were attracting plenty of admirers. Aardvarks, Tapirs, Colobus Monkeys and Birds
of Paradise were only some of the animals and bird species that both Mary and
Seamus had never witnessed before in their lives. “This is far removed from Breffni Park” said
Seamus jokingly. “For sure, I never imagined seeing such exotic sights in my
lifetime, except the savages from Mullahoran playing Crosserlough in Hurling”
laughed Mary. Mary was a
seamstress in the Brooklyn garment district where she had worked six days a
week, since coming through Ellis Island as a penniless immigrant, six years
previously. She shared a small one roomed apartment with a girl, named Sheila,
from her home town. They lived quietly and saved hard, because it was their
joint ambition to move to California and star in Movies one day soon. Seamus
could easily get a transfer to the West Coast office of IBM in Los Angeles, so
he came up with a proposal that they all pool their resources, purchase a van
and transport all their belongings together. “Seamus, I know that has been
our dream, but is sounds crazy trying to make it into a reality” chirped the
two girl friends in unison, one evening with Seamus in their compact apartment
over supper. “Sure, why not make it a
reality, we are all young and the world is our oyster, sure you must want to
escape that infernal death trap of that garment factory where you are
imprisoned for slave wages” urged Seamus. “To hell with it, we`ll have a
go and make it an adventure on the way. We can waitress to earn money on our
journey, if necessary, and camp to save money” suggested Sheila, with Mary
nodding her head in agreement. So, some
six weeks later and with all the arrangements having been made, they loaded up
a second hand van with all their worldly belongings and marked out our journey
from New York to Chicago, some 790 miles, then joining up from there Route 66,
the original cross country route to Los Angeles, distance 1,139 miles, through
St. Louis, Springfield, Tulsa, Oklahoma City, Shamrock, Amarillo, Albuquerque,
Flagstaff, San Bernardino, then L.A.
They had to keep pinching each other, just to assure themselves that
their adventure was in fact a reality. Route 66 was no longer the premier
highway that it once had been but it still held all the romanticism and spirit
of adventure that inspired the dustbowl poverty stricken farmers of the mid
west to head east along its route to the west coast in the 1920`s. Seamus and Sheila shared the driving, as they
each had green cards and held valid US driving licences. They drove about 200
miles per day, depending on the weather conditions, being mostly favourable. Camping was
rough and ready, dictated by water sources and easy access from the highway.
Mary had her guitar and she led them in camp fire singing at night, helping to
break the tedium. Camp fire life reminded them of boy scouts and girl guides
jamborees during their youth. They took
a break from their travelling in the town of Shamrock, about half way across
the states, because of its Irish sounding name and it made them nostalgic for
home. The girls scouted for restaurant or bar work for the full week, as the
annual rodeo was in town and they were bound to be hired, even if mostly for
tips. Seamus got the use of a Garage pit and was skilled enough to be able to
give the van a full service overhaul, just for the cost of the parts. The girls succeeded in getting bar work in a
Cowboy music joint that was packed to the rafters with rodeo revellers. Seamus
was able to chill out at the other side of the bar counter, enjoying the music,
the spectacle and chatting with the locals and visiting rodeo folk alike.
Seamus, Sheila and Mary were all able to learn some line dancing moves, hitting
the floor when the girls got their rest breaks. It was a hoot, the girls made
some good money and the week just flew by. Seamus even took part in some
amateur calf tying competitions during the rodeo and won a few dollars for
style, if not efficiency. During the week, Sheila fell for a guy named Brent
Falon, from Yakima, a team-roping rodeo rider. Sheila. She was completely
mesmerised by his down home charm and he, in turn, was very attracted to her
freshness, openness and direct qualities. Sheila was mesmerised by Brent`s
association with horse flesh, as she had been reared with horses, was an expert
rider and had won some major even ting competitions over the years. Brent spent
all his free time in Sheila`s company and her heart did somersaults at the
thought of their meeting up. They were both amazed by the suddenness and
totality of their mutual physical passion, as they made repeated love in the
living quarters of his horse transporter. Sheila was blown away but the
feelings that had welled up from her innermost being, taken completely unaware
by feelings that she never thought existed within her being. At the end of the
week, she had a conversation with Seamus and Mary: “Folks, I have some unexpected news for you”
she said, but in reality they had seen her falling head over heels with Brent
and were not shocked by what she said next. “I am sorry but I`m not travelling on to L.A.,
as I am going to join Brett Falon on the Rodeo circuit. He`s going to train me
to become a barrel racer!”. “Wow” reacted Seamus and Mary in unison. ”That is some news, all right. I have no idea
what a barrel racer even is but l am you will let us know in time, the very
best of luck” said Seamus. “You`re taking a great risk, both emotionally
and physically, Sheila” cautioned Mary “but sure life`s short, go for it. You
can always join us in L.A. if it life on the rodeo circuit does not work out
for you.” Sixth Chapter �" Sheila`s new life
with Brent on the rodeo circuit. Just with
that, giving her two friends great big hugs, transferring her gear into Brent`s
transporter truck, Sheila then hit the road for an adventurous new life, her
destiny a blank sheet. Brent and Sheila`s relationship continued to develop and
grow from the first days of their being together. Brent appreciated Sheila`s
low maintenance factor and her ability to take the rough with the smooth, as
life on the road was short of frills and creature comforts. She was able to
keep him calm and focussed coming up to big events and they melded into a close
team who instinctively relied on each other, with a firm emotional bond. Sheila
had followed her heart when deciding to follow Brent and it rewarded her with
well deserved emotional dividends. Pro rodeo was a world of enduring interminable hours
on the road in hopes of achieving success by fractions of seconds. That was the
way of life for apprentice barrel racer Sheila and her team-roping lover,
Brent, particularly with the rodeo season climaxing with that weekend’s
Ellensburg Rodeo and the Pendleton Roundup two weeks later. Three years quickly
flew by and Sheila soon learned to appreciate the rudiments of rodeo life with
Brent and the others fellow teams whom they encountered travelling and
competing on the various circuits over the country. Competitively, they were having
the time of their lives �" most of it spent traveling from one rodeo arena to
another just like it, hundreds of miles away. A roving newspaper and radio
reporter, who covered the events and characters involved in the rodeo circuit
competitions, met with Brent and Sheila and this is an account of their rodeo
life together:- “From the middle of June to
Pendleton, we’re usually going to at least four rodeos a weekend �" sometimes up
to seven, eight or even nine,” says Brent, 34, a heeler whose team-roping
partner, Oregonian Garrett Rogers, travels with the Falons on their byzantine
itinerary of rodeos on the PRCA Columbia River Circuit (CRC), Pro-West,
Northwest Professional Rodeo Association (NPRA) and Idaho Cowboys Association
tours. The previous week took the trio
on Wednesday to Kennewick, on Friday to Bremerton and Enumclaw, on Saturday to
both Goldendale and Davenport �" arenas separated by 240 miles �" and, on Sunday,
to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, and then 170 miles west to Waterville. The following week, they were in
slack performances at Ellensburg, which would determine when or if they would
be slated to compete again over the next three days �" during which they’re
already slated to be in Walla Walla on Friday, Ritzville on Saturday, and both
Monroe and Roy on Sunday. “Our
life,” Sheila said in what may be the understatement of the year, “is pretty
hectic right now.” Sheila, 30, became the CRC’s top
rookie, ranks eighth in the circuit’s overall standings �" the top 12 will
advance to November’s CRC finals in the Yakima Valley Sun Dome �" and lead all
Pro-West barrel racers. Brent Falon and Rogers were each top-12 in the CRC
standings and top-three in the Pro-West. That’s nothing new for Brent,
who has already been to the CRC finals “seven or eight times” and has already
won three Pro-West season titles. Sheila, though, had never before competed in
more than a handful of rodeos until then, and sat out the last few months to
give her 10-year-old paint, Ginger, time to recuperate from a minor
ankle-ligament strain. This year, the rider-and-horse
team has been to “probably close to 40 rodeos,” with Sheila arranging
twice-monthly laser therapy for Ginger, as well as massage therapy. “She’s
kind of my gift from God, I always say,” said Sheila, who acquired the horse as
a 3-year-old primarily because Ginger was the half-sister to a competition
horse owned by a fellow barrel racer, Lindsey Bangs. “She had good breeding and I
liked the looks of her,” Sheila said of Ginger. “She hadn’t been touched, just
a wild horse in the pasture” on a horse ranch outside of Ellensburg. “Lindsey
knew the owner, and she said ‘If you catch her, she’s yours.’ “For me,
it was a good deal. I didn’t have a lot of money to spend on a barrel horse,”
added Sheila, noting that a good competition horse could cost as much as
$100,000. “I got lucky she ended up being as good as she is.” ‘It’s how
you mesh’. Certainly, Ginger being a potential champ was no guarantee. “She’s a
little, tiny horse,” Sheila said. “Some people would look at her and think she
wouldn’t be able to win �" but she does because she wants to.” Does the horse really understand
the whole competitive thing? Or is it simply a case of an animal pleasing her
human? Maybe it’s a bit of both. “Trainability, we call it.
And heart,” Sheila said. “I think they are definitely intelligent animals. They
learn our game that we play, and some of them really want to play it and others
don’t. It’s like people and dogs �" they want certain things, and you have to
find the horse that likes to do what you do, and it’s how you mesh together. “I think
she likes to do it, and she likes to win. As a trainer, I can’t make a horse
something it’s not born to be; I can just bring it out in them. Ginger was a
good horse, and she wants to do what I ask of her.” This year, Ginger has carried
Sheila to victory at a PRCA rodeo in Cheney, plus a high-in-the-money run at
the prestigious St. Paul (Ore.) Rodeo, with a chance to enhance her circuit
standing with a solid performance against the best barrel racers in the rodeo
world at Ellensburg. “My main
goal this year was to make the CRC finals,” Sheila said. “But for the rest I
just want to go, make some money and have fun, and see where the cards fall.” The winning road at which rodeos
those cards fall is decided by Brent Falon, who’s been around the rodeo world
long enough to know which trips are worth making �" even when, at times, Sheila
might not understand his reasoning. While Falon and Rogers were in
contention for a Pro-West team-roping title that would be Brent’s fourth, a
Pro-West season title would be Sheila’s first in any circuit. But the latter,
said Brent can’t be the only criteria in determining their schedule. “That was
the deal that was kind of tough for her,” Brent said. “We can’t get to all the
rodeos, because we’re going to four different associations. I’ve been to enough
of them over the years that I know which ones are the good r rodeos to go to and which ones you don’t
want to waste your time.” After a
couple of barrel racers passed Sheila in the Pro-West standings “because
they’re going to all the Pro-West rodeos and we’re not, I told her not to worry
about it, that we’re going to all the good ones,” Brent recalled. “Some of
these rodeos, you’re going to spend $200 in fuel to get there and then another
$100 in fees, and if they’re paying $400 if you win, you clear $100 and it’s
almost not worth it.” Brent
admitted he gets “way more nervous” about Sheila’s performances than he does
about his own. In rodeo as in life, they’re in it together. “When we
both do good, it makes it a lot more enjoyable when you’re driving home for
four hours in the truck,” Brent said. “When we both have a bad one, it makes
for a quiet four hours.” So the
former seamstress from Kingscourt, Co. Cavan was now breaking news and starting
to make headlines in the American Mid West. Who at home would have believed it? Seventh Chapter �" Seamus and Mary`s
new life in L.A. On the day
of Sheila`s departure for her new life with Brent, Seamus and Mary were once
again ready to resume the second leg of their trip to Los Angeles. “Nothing like life on the open road, it makes
some change from life in the big apple” reflected Seamus out loud. “Easy for
you to say, we had to loosen our buttons and display our tits just to earn any
decent tips but at least we weren’t up to our elbows in grease, like you
Seamus.” laughed Mary “Let`s coffee up, fuel up and hit the bitumen, the van`s
running smoother than ever, good job Seamus”. Within
another few days, the bright lights and smog of Los Angeles came into view and
they sought out their way into the long awaited Hollywood hills. They were
knocked out by the splendour of the stunning homes of the stars, viewed as part
of a tour of where celebrities lived. The MGM, United Artists, Disney and
Steven Spielberg Film Studio lots were astounding and most impressive in their
vastness and scale of their productions being filmed at that time. The use of
sound stages and technical blue screen technology just blew these two Irish
émigrés away. Mary made enquiries as to the location of the casting directors
and what did she have to do to arrange screen tests and work as film extras.
Seamus had another week free until he took up his job in the L.A. office of
IBM, so he was on hand to help Mary and drive her around the city. In the meantime they found a camping site,
beside the Ocean, with stunning views and excellent facilities. Mary arrived back to Seamus with a copy of Variety, the screen and stage
magazine. Flipping through it in a hurry
she read the advertisements and relevant articles of advice for the Movie
acting profession. Production Company Looking for
Actors/Extras (Los Angeles, CA) , We cast for
various films throughout town, along with commercials, music videos, and plenty
of smaller projects. Some talent may be compensated depending on their need in
the projects booked. All talent should be between the ages of 18 and 65 years
old. Male and female talents of all ethnicity are welcome to attend the casting
call. Talent does not have to be professional actors or models in order to be
considered for the projects. Complete an entire application and submit a photo
in order to be considered for a role. Attractive
females of any ethnicity are wanted for a “Summer Beach house Thriller” that’s
set to be filmed right here in Los Angeles, California. The feature is a low
budget film that will be filmed on the beach in L.A and we are looking for 10
female extras to play parts. We’re looking for females between the ages of
25-45 for the film. Experience in acting is appreciated but not a requirement
to submit an audition. For more information on the casting, feel free to
submit your best photo and a contact number below. Company: Casting 360
Location: Los Angeles, CA
Source: Job.com
We are currently seeking Movie Extras in your area!!
Movies and television shows very often use people like props
to create a background which seems like a real environment. The people who are
needed to participate in such roles are known as background actors, background
performers or most commonly MOVIE EXTRAS. You will see them as crowds at
sporting events, students in the school hallway, patients in hospitals and
diners at restaurants. Movie extras are the soldiers on the battlefield and
even the criminals in jail cells. Finding acting jobs, and starting an acting career does not
have to be difficult. You might be surprised to learn that most of ... MOVIE EXTRA - up to $300/day! All looks, no
experience necessary, full and part-time! We are
currently seeking Movie Extras in your area!! Work on TV, Commercials, Films and Catalogs: ·
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ages are welcome ·
Earn up to $300 ·
No experience
required ·
Flexible hours
(Part Time is ok) Movies and television shows very often use people like
props to create a background which seems like a real environment. The people
who are needed to participate in such roles are known as background actors,
background performers or most commonly MOVIE EXTRAS. You will see them as
crowds at sporting events, students in the school hallway, patients in
hospitals and diners at restaurants. Movie extras are the soldiers on the
battlefield and even the criminals in jail cells. Finding acting jobs and starting an acting career does
not have to be difficult. You might be surprised to learn that most of today's
successful working actors, major movie stars, and Hollywood celebrities all
started at the bottom. Most actors start off as movie extras or with roles so
small you might even miss them on screen. Being a movie extra is the easiest
way to get your foot in the door and the simplest way to get a chance to appear
in a major motion picture or on a hit television series. You are probably wondering
right now: if it is
so easy to get into the movie business by becoming a movie extra, why isn't
everyone doing it? Actually, they are. Thousands of movie extras are working
everyday in the film industry and are shooting movies, TV shows, and
commercials all over the world. There is a huge demand for
movie extras!! And
this demand is never going to stop. As long as there are motion pictures, there
will be jobs available for movie extras of all types. There is absolutely no
question about it - if you would like to appear in a movie or be seen on TV,
you can. No matter
what type of film - action and adventure, drama, comedy, romance, science fiction
or horror - all will need dozens if not hundreds of movie extras. What's so
great about being a movie extra is that jobs are easy to find since looks don't
matter, education does not matter and your age does not matter. In
fact, anyone can be a movie extra without any acting experience! Apply now to
get started. Before
filming, noting your steps. Hit
Your Mark on Set What is ‘Hitting Your Marks’? For
actors it means walking to various markings the director has for you throughout
different points of the scene. This keeps the actor in frame and on focus for
the shoot and the director isn’t spending all his time trying to focus the
camera on you. Of course walking to a spot on the floor without ever looking
down can be difficult. These few steps will help you hit your mark without
interruption. The first step is knowing where
these marks are. The crew will usually mark them with a bright X or T. Your job
is to know where they are and how many there are per scene. This keeps you in
frame and in focus so you must hit them exactly. Begin rehearsing by maneuvering to them without looking down. Say your
lines and mark the script at the exact point that you get to your mark. Try to
make time to rehearse repeatedly Movie Extras, Actors and Models Wanted
Know what is around you when you
hit your mark so that you stop moving when you are at that spot. Look for
visual markers. Note whether your marker is at the end of a table or next to a
sofa. It’s also a good idea to make the visual markers at eye level, is there a
painting you can look at that will let you know when to stop. Never use other actors as your
markers, they are never consistent and the director may make changes to their
movements. When you are moving towards a
marker try to make it as natural as possible. Make a note of any awkward
locations. If there is no natural way to hit your mark is sure to discuss it
with your director so that any appropriate changes can be made. The more you practice the easier
it will be to hit your marks. Lastly, practice every
chance you get before coming to set. Try practicing with a video camera.
What do
Costumes / Wardrobes do?
The Costume
Department is responsible for the design, fitting, hire, purchase, manufacture,
continuity and care of all costume items on feature films. The term 'Costume'
refers to the clothes that the actors wear, and these differ enormously from
production to production, ranging from contemporary urban fashion to period
ball gowns, and even wetsuits. The Costume Department is also responsible for jewellery,
footwear, corsetry, hosiery, millinery and sometimes wig work. Costume is
integral in defining the overall 'look' of the film. It provides the audience
with information about the period, culture and society the actors inhabit and,
on a more subtle level, the underlying themes of the film itself. “I heard from Sheila today by text and she was
hinting about settling down with Brent, imagine the change of life from a
simple girl from Cavan since they hitched up together, I am so happy for them.
I think she is going to ask me to be her bridesmaid” beamed Mary. © 2015 maturewriter |
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Added on June 2, 2015 Last Updated on June 2, 2015 Author
maturewriterCarlow, Leinster, IrelandAboutInvolved in creative writing for the past year - Memoir, Novel and Poetry. more..Writing
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