Sean Walsh: In The Wings

IN THE WINGS

And here! Here’s one for you!

Doesn’t one of the men Mammy

lets into our pub of a Sunday write plays?

PLAYS!

I heard her tellin’ Fanny Clinton

one day I was passin’ the snug.

Be the name of Carroll… Paul Vincent.

Vincent I took for me Confirmation

so I suppose we have that much in common…

And his plays are on in Dublin and Glasgow

and New York, even. NEW YORK!

And Fanny was sayin’ Canon Toal

takes a poor view – whatever’s in them…

So didn’t I have a peep for myself

through the keyhole in our hallway last Sunday?

Sittin’ there he was with a few friends,

them talkin’ and jokin’ and laughin’…

Mammy keepin’ her distance.

And honest to God, he’s just like another.

I mean, you’d never think to look at him

he writes PLAYS!..

And what did I do but didn’t I

go out the kitchen door to the yard

when Mammy was lettin’ them out

the wicket gate –

I don’t think they were bona fide at all –

hopin’ that he’d stop and say Hello…

But he just gave me a quick look

and a wee smile and away with him.

Still, I can always say I saw him.

Paul Vincent Carroll… That atself.

Little did I know then that the day 

would come when I would start scribbling 

‘under my own steam’…

telling a story on paper… experimenting…

trying my hand at monologue… dialogue…

narrative, narration…

‘Crawling into a corner 

when a random piece of mine

was uncovered, ridiculed, 

derided by family elders

who should have known better…

And the day those first few lines 

of mine – a poem, short story? – 

made it into print – 

was it the Catholic Fireside? – 

how my heart swelled!…

( – from Travels with My Dad. Amazon.com)

Link to Seán Walsh’s The McMaster Piece