Our columnist muses on the role Castlebar has played in his life; How the touching story of the response to one elderly woman’s death reminds us of the spirit of Christmas; The great Dickie Rock… and the impact of Storm Darragh
It’s Wednesday of last week, and I find myself heading for Castlebar where I am due to do a bit of babysitting for Lisa and Brian. I won’t deny that I am bordering on terrified as it will be the first time that I have babysat one-year-old Hayley on my own.
However, the good news is that I needn’t have worried as myself and Hayley got on fine and had no issues of any sort, but as I travelled down to the Mayo town I began to reflect on some of the visits I paid to Castlebar over the years, and how, even though I haven’t been in it that much, it has had quite an effect on my life.
My first memories of Castlebar would have been when I was a very young lad going to MacHale Park during the golden years of Galway football – the early to mid-1960s – and spending what seemed like hours on end waiting for my father and his fellow Galway supporters to come out of Keane’s pub in Cloonfad.
In fairness, I wasn’t completely forgotten as every so often someone or other would come out with a bar of chocolate or a mineral or a bag of crisps to keep me happy. I presume there must have been a designated driver on duty, as it always seemed to be closing time before there was any meaningful movement.
Anyway, time passed and the next big occasion in Castlebar was our first ever quarter-final of the Junior Rugby Cup in 1977. Two things stand out from that day! The first is that we forgot to bring the jerseys and Jimmy Connelly who was at the game drove back halfway to meet his wife, Nora, who brought them from Creggs. What speeds they hit I have no idea, but thankfully the speed van that is always on that road between Williamstown and Cloonfad wasn’t there then, as we had the jerseys for the second half.
I told you before that I had to play the first half in a very posh Courtelle from Paris (at least that’s what Anto Pettit told me when he sold it to me) but sadly the Courtelle was not made for a quarter-final of the Connacht Junior Cup and it disintegrated after the first Castlebar tackle. I borrowed someone’s best Sunday shirt to keep me going until Jimmy made it back at half-time.
The other thing that stands out was that my brother, Kieran, got a bad leg injury and spent a couple of days in the local hospital.
Another memory is that the pitch was just opposite the airport and the small planes came in to land very low over the rugby pitch. We could clearly see the occupants of the planes as they crossed the pitch, and we hoped we wouldn’t hit one and bring it down with a wayward Garryowen. The good news is that we won the match despite all our troubles and that year actually made it to our first cup final, which we lost (narrowly) to a very good Ballina team.
Fast-forward to the late 1980s and the Karaoke King (that’s me) and Queen (Dympna Collins) were going strong. One night we were booked for a pub just outside Castlebar, up a hill in Manulla. As luck would have it the roads were like a sheet of glass, but bearing in mind that the show must go on myself and Dympna turned up only to find that we were the only ones to brave the treacherous roads. Apart from the proprietor, there wasn’t another sinner there.
To be fair to her (the proprietor), she told us to pack up and head home and she, at least, covered our expenses. The pub in question has long since closed, but every time I pass by I remember our one and only karaoke ‘performance’ in the Castlebar area.
Nowadays of course, Lisa, Brian, Riley and Hayley all live in the Mayo town, and the recent passing of my wife, Carol, in the fantastic Hospice means that we will now always have a connection with Castlebar.
As I said, I haven’t been there that often over the years, but it certainly has had a big effect on my life. As I ate bars of chocolate and crisps and drank numerous minerals outside Keane’s of Cloonfad all those years ago little did I realise what life had in store. Maybe just as well.
What ‘story of Mary’ tells us about real spirit of Christmas
It’s Monday morning the 9th of December as I write, and for traditionalists like me, yesterday (the 8th) should be the start of the Christmas season, even though – well, according to the big superstores – the festive season should have started weeks ago.
Anyway, we all know that Christmas is meant to be about kindness and love as opposed to the ever-increasing levels of commercialism and materialism in society. And so the story of 89-year-old Mary Regan should be told to remind us as to what is important in this life.
Mary, a native of Cork, had lived with her partner, Fred, for many years in Carlow, but when he died in 2023 she was left on her own in the Leinster town. She herself died a couple of weeks ago in the care of the Hillview Nursing Home in Carlow.
Funeral Director Rory Healy posted on social media that Mary had no next of kin and very few visitors had ever called to see her in the nursing home. He then asked if the people of Carlow could spare three-quarters of an hour to attend Mary’s Funeral Mass so that “a lady who lived to nearly 90 years would get a farewell from her adopted town of Carlow by the people of Carlow”. Let’s not send Mary off from Carlow alone, he said, as she was going back to her native Cork for burial.
Thankfully his appeal was heard and more than 200 people attended the Mass to say farewell to Mary before she headed off to Cork.
Maybe it’s because my family is still dealing with my wife Carol’s passing, but I can’t tell you how much the condolences on RIP.ie, and the numerous mass cards and letters that are still coming, mean to us as a family. It is truly humbling to realise that so many people take time out of their busy schedules to remember us.
And so, in this time of celebration of Christ’s birth, I applaud the people of Carlow, and, in particular Funeral Director Rory Healy for giving Mary the send-off she deserved, and for reminding us all that humanity and kindness are the most important things.
I suppose it’s easy to get caught up in the never-ending cycle of nights out and Christmas parties, but occasionally it’s nice to remember that there is a lot more to the festive season – and Mary Regan’s story is a timely reminder of that.
Storm Darragh
leaves its mark
It’s Monday evening as I write, three whole days after Storm Darragh, and according to reports there were still 80,000 homes and businesses without power as of Sunday night.
I have to say that we got off light enough out here in Creggs, but as I drove into Roscommon on Saturday morning, I don’t think I have ever seen as much debris on the Donamon road before. There were thousands of little branches all over the place and a tree being down near Terry Leyden’s bar meant I had to turn back and go on a very small detour.
Lots of Roscommon town was without power and I met many people from all around who were bemoaning their lack of electricity. Since then I have met a few who were wondering if their freezer contents were covered by insurance. I don’t know the answer to that question, but I do know there could be a significant financial loss if the entire contents of a large freezer had to be dumped.
Thankfully we hadn’t any power outage, so no freezers in this area had to be cleared. As they say ‘It’s an ill wind’.
However, storms seem to be coming our way on a more regular basis, and they seem to be more and more ferocious too – so it’s safe to say it won’t be too long until we need to batten down the hatches again. And then it’s pot luck as to who keeps or who loses their power! I suppose all underground cables might solve the problem.
And finally…
Yet another icon of the showband era, Dickie Rock, has left the stage. He was undoubtedly one of our leading showmen and with the Miami Showband would have been up there with the best of them.
Maybe Brendan Bowyer and Joe Dolan might have shaded it in the superstardom ranks but the singer who was known for the peculiar catchphrase ‘Spit on me, Dickie’ had a fantastic career and he will always be associated with ‘From the Candy Store on the Corner’ and his Eurovision fourth-placed song, ‘Come back to Stay’.
Dickie was 88 years old and remained actively involved in the entertainment business until he retired at 84 years of age.
As someone who was lucky enough to have grown up in the era of showbands and carnivals and of all their wonderful excitement I am sad to see another legend depart this life. Spit on me, Dickie. May you rest in peace.
