McCloskey's Cup

1 July 2010

297

R. Linda:

Here be a look back at me life as a twenty something when I had the bad bit of luck to be out of university for a summer and was living with me Mam and Da. Because I was considered "grown" I could be more helpful around the house, since I could not find a summer job. I thought it only fair, but never in me born days did I think I would be me Da's slave to his bad temper. I be so glad I wasn't to go into business with him because it can be said, one of us would have wrung the neck of the other in time and the survivour would be doing time in the nick.

To preface me god awful summer months, let it be known that in the back of our abode there was a porch semi closed in. Now me house wasn't very big, but it was long. So this long, narrow porch was eyed by me Mam as an additional room because me father's Da was coming to live with us. Right there, that bit of information was enough for me to want to run away from home . . . forever. You have to understand me father's Da is a man who can be a doddering idiot when it suits him, and outspoken to the point of rude when the mood catches him. So this bit of information was not good, but what can you do? We couldn't turn a family member out just for that. Sigh.

Anyway, having not a lot of room and because yours truly was home for the summer and so needed me room, it could not be given to me Grandda, and was much too close to share (which case I'd be not writing this, I'd be institutionalised), but even so, he wouldn't have wanted it since it be on the second floor, and he had such bad arthritis in his hips, he couldn't climb stairs without someone helping him and that someone, we all knew would be me sainted Mam. Me sainted little Mam was too smart for that, and so she decided to look at what we did have and convert one of the rooms into the old man's boudoir. 

Well, she wasn't about to put him in the small kitchen, and she wasn't going to put him in the lounge, and she didn't want him in the small dining area because where would we eat? But there was the Harry Potter room under the stairs. She knew me Da would be fit to be tied to find a cot in the closet with his father in it. So that left the porch. Well, it had a roof and it had a banister round it from the house sides to the steps down into the backyard, so he wouldn't fall off. If we closed it in and put a small stove out there, perhaps that would do?

Me Da scoffed at the idea. Anything that meant work for him was NEVER a good idea. Then she suggested with a sigh, the lounge. Well, that room was me Da's sanctuary it was, the place he took his morning tea and read the newspaper, and in the evening watched the telly. Oh no we couldn't have that now could we? Yes, the porch was looking more the thing and so it became the summer project. My summer project.

Now just to let you know I also was taking a summer course that I could do from home, so it wasn't like I had nothing to do. This took up a lot of me time and it was important for course credits I pass it. I thought, piece of cake, I'll study and when I have time, help me Da with enclosing the porch. But me Da had other ideas, he would supervise and I'd do the grunt labour. Oi!

So day 1 we get out there and he be standing in the middle of the porch looking about it. I moved all the junk out of there and to the trash bin since there wasn't much out there but junk. Me Da paced off the measurements of the porch, then took a look at the posts holding up the roof. He pulled and pushed on these, and they stayed steady, the roof didn't come down on us, thank the saints. He made a list on a small pad he had and then tore the sheet off and told me to go get the wood and nails at O'Doud's Hardware down the road. This I did, and an hour later there I was stacking it all next to the porch as me Da threw his tools in the middle of the porch floor. He had saw horses at the ready and a hand saw and he was set to go. 

I started bringing the wood up and he'd tell he to hold it up above me head while he set it as a stud for support. These 2 x 8s look like nothing until you have to stand on a ladder with one held above your head. Then they get very heavy. Me arms and back ached like a son of a gun until me Da noticed after two hours me distress and told me to let go he had hold of the one I had been struggling with and as he took hold, BONK it came down on me noggin almost knocking me out. I did fall down with it and he looked down from his ladder and said, "Sorry there Gabe," and as I waited for the tweety birds and stars to leave me vision, I clawed me way up a support post to an upright position, once again holding the damn stud above me aching head.

This "accident" happened another two times with me sprawled on the porch floor always followed by a "Sorry there Gabe," and I swear that last sorry there Gabe was followed with a snicker. Maybe not, he swears not, but I be not so sure. Me own father I tell ya, trying to brain damage his only son! Well, took us a few weeks, but we got the porch enclosed and a new floor down, a stove put in and Fanny's your aunt we were done. But not before I had been cursed at, shouted at, beamed a few good times, made to run innumerable errands to O'Doud's and sent back because what Da ordered was not the correct size or nail, or what have you. I think I lost 2 stones, an undetermined amount of brain cells, and many a night I was too knackered to study me lessons. 

The worst of it was, me Da would, after five hours hard slog by yours truly, tells me to take a break and go crack the books for an hour, he'd manage well on his own. And this I would do. I'd slowly make me way up the stairs to me room, no sooner open a book and start to write down me work, and he'd call me (the porch was just below me window). I'd slam the book shut, throw me pencil down and go back down the stairs. I'd get there and he'd say to me, "Gabe, does this look straight to you?" And I'd squint me eyes and look and yes, yes it did. "Okay there, thank you," he'd say and off upstairs I'd go again, UNTIL, the next time he'd call me for something equally stupid. This went on for six more trips until I gave up. I know most would have given it up after two or three, but I was determined I'd get some of me reading done. Stupid me.

We had just put in the last nail when our neighbour old man McCloskey knocks on the porch or now bedroom door, and walks on in. After the general greeting he looks around scratching his stubbly chin and says, "You have a permit for all this donya?" Uh well, no, no we just did it without benefit of the building authority because it would take two weeks before they'd come down to even look at what we wanted to do, followed by long intervals of time between approval of the structure studs and beams, then the sheathing, then the siding, and God knows what else. Sigh. So this appearance at the very end of our labours was not a welcome one.

"Uh actually, yes, yes we do." Me Da lied through his teeth. I could see he was thinking how much he'd like to punch out old man McCloskey, but McCloskey was oblivious. 

"I ain't seen Jessie Cronin down here," McCloskey offered. 

And he was right, Cronin was the man with the permits and this name sounding was enough to make Da and me nervous McCloskey had an in with Cronin. What to do? 

We needn't have worried as me Mam was in the kitchen and had heard the exchange, she came out with a huge piece of freshly baked soda bread, dripping with melting butter and the biggest cuppa I'd ever seen. I knew that particular cup was me Da's pride and joy. The very cup he had his Christmas wassail in every year and here she had filled it to the brim with steaming tea for who? Old man McCloskey, our nosey parker neighbour that we never did like. 

"Here ya goo John, I heard ya coom in and I just baked this an I know it's a favourite of yers," she said handing him the plate and motioning him out of the newly finished room and into the kitchen. She bid him sit down in me Da's chair at the head of table, placed the huge steaming cup at his right hand and moved the plate of fresh bread towards him in signal he was welcome to more if he liked. And he did. He ate half the plate, all smiles as he chewed looking at me Mam like she was the greatest.

Me Da was seething, but he said nothing, grunted his responses to any conversation that aimed in his direction. Me Mam closed the door between kitchen and porch like the porch area would disappear. And it sort of did! I never had seen me Mam so animated as she was with old John McCloskey, a man old enough to be her sugar daddy, I mean father. She kept up the flirt as we called it for about an hour. Made me wonder what she had been like as a young girl it did. I started to see me own sainted Mam in another light. I had to leave the room just to shove the images out of me mind before I barfed up me meager piece of soda bread. Yes, she allowed Da and meself each a sliver. Sigh.

I did notice that each time McCloskey raised that cup to his lips, me father had a scowl come over his face like a pirate. I could tell what he was thinking, and with me Mam running on, his mood was becoming more and more hostile. His cup, his woman, he was thinking, I could just see it. I tried to prolong the explosion as long as I could by being a dolt and running stupid jokes by him, but he wasn't looking at me, he was focused on his cup and McCloskey. Once I had left the room I realised the danger in me doing that, so I came back in and had a lame excuse to get me Da out of there and with much effort was able. 

He cursed his way down the cellar behind me and I tried to shush him McCloskey wouldn't hear his name being thrown about with Lucifer's. Once in the dark cellar we stood where a shaft of light came in. He looked at me his eyes all screwed up from lack of light. "Well Gabriel? Wots doon here is so important?"

"Da, Mam is doing a fine job up dere defusing the building permit situation. Let's leave her to it and hope for the best."

"YOU made me come doon here to this moosty old basement to tell me THAT?" He whispered harshly at me.

"Yeah, because I could see you were about to blow."

He wiped a work cloth over his face and sighed shaking his head.

"It's all clear, you kin coom up now," Mam called softly to us.

He threw up his arms and motioned me first to the steps. We came up to find McCloskey gone, along with the rest of the bread . . . and the cup. Yes, the cup was the first thing me Da noticed.

"WHERE'S ME WASSAIL CUP?" He thundered.

"Now now, he hadn't finished and it was a lot of tea an you know, waste not, want not." Mam explained.

"BUT THAT WAS ME WASSAIL CUP!" 

Me Da made to slam out after McCloskey but me Mam and I both caught hold of him trying to prevent the catastrophe that would come had he actually got out the door.

"Remember this room is fer yer FATHA," Mam shouted at him. "Ya don't want yer fatha out on the street now do ya?"

This stopped the tirade and he softened somewhat. 

"I'll get ya another coop," Mam said, "you won't want to be drinkin' out of it now I'm sure."

"A bigger one ya hear woman, a bigger one!" Da demanded putting on the mift. Then he looked around, "Where be the bread?"

Uh oh.

"I gave him the rest it was but crumbs. Now don't git on, I'll make ye fresh."

Da's face turned red, then purple at the indignity. Not only his prized cup but his bread too!

I noticed several weeks later from me bedroom window, McCloskey tapping on the kitchen window (noise of which got me attention), and me Mam's hands taking me Da's wassail cup from his, and the old man would stand there patiently licking his lips as the cup came out the window all steaming to the brim and a loaf of bread after it. I was shocked. Me Mam had made a pact with Lucifer's brother for sure. His silence for weekly bread and tea! 

Well, we didn't get a visit from Jessie Cronin, but weekly until he passed away (that be two years), McCloskey would show up at our kitchen window for his weekly soda bread and to add insult to injury, he'd bring me Da's big cup for a fill of tea. Yes, those were tense visits when it was only me Da at home to fortify McCloskey's soda bread and tea craving. But I will give it, me Mam made a deal with both men and it was much easier than having to tear the new room down to satisfy Cronin's rules than it was for us to serve McCloskey a weekly stipend of bread and tea. Me Da bristled at this, but he understood the impact it could have. He hated McCloskey after that, and even more after McCloskey passed away. Why? Because John McCloskey left in his will "Me very favourite and sainted cup from Mrs. O'Sullivan. May she wish to give it to her husband to enjoy her excellent tea." Yes, he bequeathed me own father his own cup! McCloskey had the last word he did and that me Da has had to live with that has been difficult, I tell ya. The cup went out in the bin, I saw him toss it from me bedroom window. It shattered and he laughed his fool head off. So much for that precious cup, but well, McCloskey had become it's owner and in his small demented way, me Da saw a way (in his mind anyway) to get back at McCloskey by breaking "McCloskey's Cup."

Gabe

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