Lonesome Stray
by
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We are taken into the playroom, and there in front of each of us lie a small pile of new cloths and the sweet smell of leather from shiny new boots.
I look forward to sitting at a special table in the refectory with the other boys for our first communion meal.
We will receive beautiful warm crisp soda bread, with creamery butter melting between the two halves. The smell of it make makes my mouth water. In the chapel everything is fresh and clean the smell of incense mixed with wax floor polish epitomizes the motto of the Sisters; “Cleanliness is next to Godliness'”. Heads bowed, hands together in front of our face we each make our way forward, genuflect, kneel, heads tilted back and tongues out to receive the “Body of Christ”. From here on we must account for all our own actions by confessing our sins to a priest in the confessional. To be immodest is a sin, it means you must not show your body by taking your cloths off, without covering yourself. That’s why we wear nightshirts that reach to the ankles. One night I was feeling adventurous. Because it was dark in the dormitory I think “ God can’t see me” so I got out of bed, lifted my nightshirt up to my waist, and quickly jumped back into bed. I had committed an “immodest”! It felt so very good to commit a sin. The down side, I would have to confess the sin at my next confession. It did help to make up the sin numbers though. I’m never sure about the immodest sin. For example when we are in the sewing room having our trousers repaired, being naked to the waist we are made to face the wall. But the nuns could see our bums! Surely that can’t be right are we sinning? Then there was always the Old Faithful sin “using the wrong hand”. Some of the Ten Commandments are easy to understand, like “though shall not steal”. Others I don’t make sense: “do not covet thy neighbour’s Wife”, or “do not commit adultery”.
What are they all about? I might be committing these sins unknowingly.
At best it’s less sins to confess. Then there are the seven Deadly Sins two of these I understand, Pride, I am not sure I ever have anything to be proud of. As for Gluttony, I can’t commit that, there is never enough to eat, otherwise I just might not mind having a ago at that one!
Hunger seems to stalk all of our daily lives, I think the sisters must be poor, as there never seems to be enough food. Having watched the other children I learned to subsidise my diet.
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About the Book
The story is based on my life in Institutions in Ireland in the 1930s and '40s, and my subsequent disposal (their word) to a strange woman who took me to an even stranger outside world. As a seventeen-year-old, free for the first time I made my way to the UK to join the forces. Christmas and free time I spent on camp or travelling to different parts of the country, staying overnight at YMCAs and Bed and Breakfast places. That was until, at a small mining village in Co. Durham, I'd found love I'd never known, in the form of an eighteen-year-old factory girl whom I married three years later.
It was not until 2006 did I discover why I'd spent my formative years in State custody. Under the Freedom of Information Act, offical documents revealed, I was charged as a two year old at Dublin District Court with receiving Alms. The named judge ordered that I be be detained till my sixteenth birthday.
First placed in the custody of the Sisters of Charity in Co. Kilkenny until the age of ten, when I was considered old enough to start work. As a lone child I was transferred to the custody of the Christian Brothers at the notorious 'Artane' Industrial School on the outskirts of Dublin City. Those six years stained my very soal.
About the Author
Presently I care for my wife, an Alzheimer's sufferer. Afflicted for twelve years, she's been in the 'End Stage' for five years. I chose to remove her from a Nursing Home at the end of 2002 because she was deteriorating fast. Unhappy with the system of care and the lack of understanding of the illness I refused to accept help. In spite of her being little more than skin and bones and given no hope of survival, I managed to return her to physical health. Though she'd lost her speech and the ability to move, I'm happy and privileged to have been granted these extra years with her.
We've been married fifty-two years, she'll be seventy-three Oct (2007) and I seventy-six.
With no home in Ireland, I came to the UK as a seventeen-year old to join the RAF. I took part in sports and represented the Combined Services and Ireland at one. I retired as a Logistics Sergeant Instructor.
On leaving the RAF I worked for BAC in the Middle East. I returned home to spend more time with our youngers daughter. Sadly it was not to be, she was killed with-in weeks of my return. After a year out I returned to the Middle East to work for Lockheed as a Logistics Supervisor and was later promoted to Superintendent of Support Services.
At age fifty-four I retired to the dream home in the countryside which I'd promised my wife during the early years of our marriage.
Sadly after twenty-five years of enjoying seeing our nine grandchildren flourish in that environment, her Alzheimer's dictated a move to a smaller home.