"The Old Triangle
went jingle jangle."
"Luascadh ar dhroim na mara,
ó ní fada
go mbeimid slán."
"Seo libh, canfaidh Amhrán na bhFiann."
At fifteen, a job secured.
A scholarship to Ballyvourney,
at a time,
in a place,
when and where that boy's wage
would have been a gift.
At the gaeltacht, John is Seán,
and then Jack, as time moved on,
and Omar too,
this man from Cork,
a name that rugged aspect sparked
in all who met him.
That his parents preferred knowledge,
over work, for Irish college,
is rare.
He would study forever,
be the favourite of professors,
and never quit.
Their home a house of education,
his wife and daughters dedicated
to schooling, learning,
research, training,
and so their next generation
benefits.
He knew his history, and that of Éire.
His essays featured in Chimera.
Of all the haunts
he might show up,
the safest bet is the Singers' Club.
Well away, kid.
(On 22/02/2025 my uncle, Seán McCarthy, died. He was 81 years old. He was an extraordinary man, so interesting to listen to on any subject. He loved a singing session, and, though he was probably the best singer at any, really enjoyed listening to others.
He once told me, when I was asking him about our ancestors, that "they did well by us," and I feel I can safely say that my generation would all say the same about him. He must be a great loss to his wife, daughters, and grandchildren.
RIP Seán, 1943-2025).
