Getting What He Wished For

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Cormac MacConnell - The West's Awake

Getting What He Wished For

February 14, 2008

By Cormac MacConnell

DEAR Joseph Francis of Brooklyn, I hope this letter finds you in excellent fettle. It leaves me in that condition too.

I am just back from the Honk pub, am smoking a cigarette by the open fire in the Clare cottage, and am warmly outside a hot whiskey constructed of good solid Paddy whiskey, a cloved slice of lemon, a teaspoon of brown sugar and boiling water.

A hot whiskey, enjoyed in moderation, is great comfort to those of us here at home who are still trapped in what you call a time-warp. Slainte!

I appreciated and enjoyed your fine letter in the issue of the Irish Voice dated January 30-February 5. What you said needed to be said, and you said it very well indeed.

In all honesty (before I go on to give you some splendid news), I have to say I hope our editor does not take your advice to dispense with my services. But if she does I will still love her, forgive her totally, and forgive you too. This is me talking, incidentally, and not the hot whiskey!

Now to the good news.

I am a lost cause, of course, and so deeply damaged by my lifestyle and genetic cargo that I will always be found in old pubs drinking alcohol, singing songs, telling yarns and (because I am forced to) going outside every half-hour to smoke a cigarette.

There is a cell or two of me which is disgusted by the whole process but then I, like you, am composed of a few trillion cells and my behavior will not change.

The magnificent tidings for you, however reluctant as I am to admit it, are that 70% of the rest of the Irish population, for a variety of reasons both social and economic, are now turning their backs firmly upon appalling lifestyles such as mine.

You will be delighted to hear that public houses in Ireland are closing down by the score every week.

You will be delighted to hear that only about two or three persons in every 10 are smoking nowadays.

You will be pleased, I’m sure, to learn that the existing smokers and drinkers found in the old pubs are generally 40 years old and more, somewhat time-warped old citizens like me, usually male, often coughing more than normal, sometimes drinking more than they should as well.

Sadly perhaps, from your point of view, I drink only modestly and have not any signs of a smoker’s cough, so it is possible that I will live and write for another 20 years, always down that dangerously time-warped frequency as well.

Maybe you should start a petition of like-minded worthy citizens like yourself, strongly calling for my sacking, to back up your letter. Indeed I commend this course because you should know that our editor frequently travels over here and has been seen drinking alcohol in old Irish pubs as well, though I know she doesn’t smoke, which is surely great news!

Anyway, as I say, the old pubs are closing down by the new time and the overwhelming majority of us are now becoming Americanized in the best possible way.

You may not know it, but there are now very strict laws against drunk driving here, as tough as yours over there. These hit the old pubs hardest of all because taxis are not easily available in the rural areas where the pubs served as social and community hubs in the past.

So the people are staying in their homes much more than ever before. The roads are nearly empty in the countryside at night, especially through the week.

Becoming civilized, nearly as much as ye, people are now bringing alcohol to their homes, typically wines and beers, and drinking at home, often over dinner.

You will be overjoyed to hear that many young Irish housewives will also not allow oldsters like me to smoke under their roofs at all. Because of this, and because of the fact that typical young couples are both working full-time, and tired when they get home to give quality time to their one child (rarely two) casual visits to neighbors are now virtually a thing of the past.

Also the modern Irish don’t have the wakes for the dead which were occasions of over-indulgence in the old days. They send their family remains to funeral homes, and the whole funeral occasion is sober, quick, genteel.

Likewise with modern marriages, also an occasion of sin in the past. Anyway, only about one couple in every five bother getting married at all. They just move in together quietly.

You will regret to hear that one of the papers I service recently asked me to go around Clare and write about the old pubs before they disappear entirely. You will also regret to hear that I always sing their praises without stint in the hope they will survive for the rest of my lifetime.

Even more, you will be shocked to learn that I have discovered several (especially in freezing weather) where you can discreetly enjoy an illegal smoke without going outside. But don’t be too concerned about this because they will all be gone soon as rural populations, through planning and economic pressures, are now quickly being shepherded into the nearest big towns and cities.

Here there are few pubs but lots of big plastic nightclubs whose clientele are usually teenagers out for the weekend.

In synopsis, Joseph, things are getting much better from your point of view. You can rest easy.

The musical sing-along country pubs with their pintmen and characters and time-warped atmospheres are melting away like snow off the Derry ditches. Even if you don’t convince the editor to get rid of me soonest, rest assured that my rantings will not cause much damage any more on either side of the Atlantic.

Sir, were I near you in Brooklyn, I would salute your great wisdom and powerful letter-writing skills by repairing with you to the nearest health shop deli and buy you a glass or two of organic orange juice, pitted organic olives, wholegrain bread and Swiss cheeses.

And I would not even attempt to smoke a cigarette!

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