Friday, October 16, 2020

Mighty Cuchulain on Samhain




It is rumored that on Samhain, the mighty warrior Cuchulain went to battle. Samhain, the end of summer and harvest and into winter, is a powerful and significant night. 

    Throughout decades of violence, centuries of unrest, mistrust, and occupation, the prospect of peace is finally being realized in secret meetings, public displays of solidarity, and private negotiations. The last three years have been the most promising times in recent history of the Anglo - Irish peace talks. Differing from the “must win” ideology of his brother, David seeks compromise to end the conflict that rules his life. David understands the politics in the struggle and knows that compromise is inevitable.
    He comes across as David the construction worker, loyal Donegal Celtic fan, and amateur footballer. He doesn’t reveal his years of studying The Book of Five Rings, Sun Tzu, or countless books on the history of Irish politics to many. He’s risen through the ranks of the Provisionals rather quickly, his natural leadership ability one reason, his family history of course another. He may be young, but he comes across as a seasoned veteran of the Irish War and he’ll asking nothing of his men that he wouldn’t do himself.

    It’s getting late as David meets with Martin, the Officer Commanding, or OC, of the local brigade. Many believe Martin is preparing David for future leadership in the brigade. Martin can be particularly tough on David, pressing him on issues, mistakes, and decisions. It could also be because Martin was best friends with David's father and really became a surrogate to him growing up. Either way, David is given a lot of responsibility as a volunteer. 
    Martin doesn’t look the commander that he once was. His blonde hair has turned a yellowed white. The lines on his face are exacerbated by years of cigarettes and neat whiskeys to the wee hours.
    “Ye know it won’t be seen as a break in the ceasefire,” Martin emphasizes as he attempts to calm David down.
    “What the fuck were they thinking?” David stares at Martin.
     Martin attempts to pacify the powder keg sitting across from him.     “They already took responsibility for the shooting, David.”
    David knows Martin is guessing and isn't certain about the status of the ceasefire. The talks hang in the balance over the promise of laying down weapons among one of many items up for debate.
    "Martin, come on. The RUC doesn't care if they claimed responsibility. The INLA or not, a cop gets shot they cry IRA. The news cries IRA." David emphasis each word with a tap on the table. 
    "No punishment." Martin sits up emphatically.
    "What if we…." David would like to demonstrate to the contending nationalist group, that they are all in the ceasefire together. Punishment beatings are used amongst those many would think are on the same side of the fight.
    Martin snaps at him quickly, "No. Is that to be understood? What's next on the agenda?"
    Silence as David hesitates, "I was thinking."
    "Jesus wept," Martin knows when David is stalling. He sits back and crosses his arms, "go on."
    "What if we've a tout?" David knows this is a loaded question because he knows that Martin does have informants, the RUC has informants, Jesus, for all he knows Abbi has an informant within the IRA, but David means one that is deliberately working against him. This is a serious accusation that will of course need some type of evidence to back it up.
    Martin does not stir from the position he is in. "You’ve my attention."
    David moves closer to Martin, speaking in a hushed tone. "Ten of my guys have either taken shots or almost been blown up in the last two weeks. Not Danny’s, not Brian’s, mine. That's not a coincidence if ye ask me."
    "What else is it, David?" Martin moves closer and leans on the table.
    "I don’t know if it’s true and I don’t know who it would be." David removes the prison comm from his shirt pocket and hands it to Martin.  
    Martin takes the paper but maintains eye contact with David for an extra second, as if he is trying to read his thoughts. He reads the tiny print on the paper, shaking his head in disgust. "A breakaway? Right, I’ll speak to the IO." He pauses. “Who got this for you?” He holds the comm up.
    "I had someone get it…"
    “Who?” Martin is terse in his question.
    David swallows then sighs. "Abbi."    
    "I’ve told you before, you’re not to use her for this." His face reddens quickly. 
    "But she’s good, Martin.” David leans forward.
    Martin bangs his hand on the table. "You’ll find your kneecaps on the other end of an armalite if I find out you put your wife in that prison again to do your work for you. Understood?"
    David nods, a bit shocked at the firmness of the order.  "Did someone say something?"
"Understood?" Martin asks that single world slowly, separating the syllables with a bevy of potential unspoken repercussions.
"Yes. Understood."
"You’ll await instructions. More than likely you’ll be on the court martial." Martin formally ends the meeting by standing. "I was thinking the same but you confirmed my suspicions. We’ll need to start getting evidence down in writing. I’ll ring you tomorrow." Martin shuts the door behind him but quickly opens it again. "I mean it, about Abbi."
            David sits alone in the poorly lit room. He thinks about failure. His men are getting injured and the talks are stagnant at best. He thinks about his brother and wonders how he would handle this situation even thought their strategies differ.  Panic sets in as he wonders if he made the right decision. It could just be coincidence and he could be jeopardizing someone who is innocent, but that is the purpose of the court martial.
    Tactically, he’s been successful. Proposing to call an end to the ceasefire the year before could have made matters worse. Increasing violence and talking less seemed to work though and moved the process to where the other side would sit down and talk peace.   
    Strategically, David is starting to question himself. In the event that peace does break out in the middle of all the violence, he won’t be able stop fighting. Some see negotiations as giving up and feel that David is not any better than the opposition. His brother would have been one of those people. 
    David hears Martin leave through the front door. He knows that someone’s life is now at stake, if not even more so, his own. He twists his wedding ring around few times before taking it off. He puts the ring back on his finger and places his hands on his face. He draws his hands down to his mouth and sighs a cathartic sigh. He thinks about Abbi. That Martin was right. His decision to not tell Martin all along that Abbi has been getting information was wrong, but not worthy of his reaction.
      David sits up. "Right.” He stands and turns off the light, leaving him standing in the dark room briefly, before he exits. 
 

Wednesday, September 30, 2020

Annual October Reading of Master and Margarita


October 1, I will embark once again upon reading The Master and Margarita (one of my favorite books). Many are easily turned off by it's - at times - confusing stories. But when you look at when it was written and think about some of its themes and symbolism, the story begins to have much more meaning then just talking cats playing chess and naked witches flying around on pigs. Be a witness to Pilate and Jesus, watch Judas beg, and Benga be a loyal dog to someone who seems to never show any mercy.

Have you read it? Many are turned off by it. It is a bit all over the place, the names confusing, and you wonder what any of it has to do with each other. It's worth taking the time.

Do svidaniya!



Sunday, September 20, 2020

I Don't Care If I Never Get Back




Maggie sits on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed, and eyes fixed on an imaginary spot on the wooden floor. Her green dress and the way her wavy auburn hair is tucked behind her ears gives off an inaccurate depiction that she is demure.  The radio provides white noise while everyone pretends to act normal downstairs. As the chorus of the Rolling Stones Waiting on a Friend begins, Sean knocks lightly on the door frame. He's dressed in an ashen gray suit, tailored perfectly for his six foot five frame.


“May I come in?” He asks as he already has passed the threshold anyway.

She sighs and looks up at him. “I like that suit on you.”

He sits beside her and rubs his hands together nervously before placing them on his lap. “So?”

“I’m sorry.” Maggie leans against Sean.

Sean places his arm around Maggie. “For what?”

“I don’t know, you being a good solicitor? The Peace Process."

            “You knew he’d be home soon,” he says as he brushes a few stray strands of hair that has escaped from behind her ear. He leans closer to her.

“But I didn’t expect this.” She continues to stare ahead even though she can feel Sean’s breath on face.

“Us?”

“I can’t just call you when a pipe breaks or when Liam needs someone to talk to…”

“You’ve got Gerard now, Maggie.”

She brushes him away from her. “Why do you always tell me the obvious? You’re like that little devil that sits on my shoulder.

“I thought I would have been the angel.” He smiles, kisses her cheek, and then stands. “Guess this is sort of goodbye.”

She looks up in semi-shock. “You live next door.”

         “I was talking to the bed.”  

Her mouth begins the semblance of a smile. “Fucking funny, you Fenian bastard.”

Sean walks towards the door. “Least I didn’t get caught bein’ one.”

“What am I gonna do without you?” She stands and walks to him, her head only reaching his chin. She runs her hand down his violet tie and fixes his lapel.

“You could get arrested. I can be your solicitor. But I can’t guarantee I can get you conjugal visits for your partner and your boyfriend.”

The disembodied voice from Maggie’s father yells from downstairs. ”You’re goin’ to be late and Liam’s already bored out of this mind.”

Maggie places her head on Sean’s chest. ”Do you know anything about baseball?”

“Why would I know anything about baseball?” He places his arms around her, and places his face in her hair, taking a deep breath.

“Gerard. Some people find Jesus in prison He found baseball.”

##


Gerard sits at the kitchen table. The first time in three years he’s been in his own house and semi-alone with his wife. He runs his hand through his black hair that is in need of a trim. He returns his hands to the table, at first placing them in front of him, and then placing them both around a bottle of beer. He taps his fingers on the bottle in succession, over and over.
            Maggie enters the kitchen fairly nonchalant, as if Gerard sits at the kitchen table every day and hasn’t been eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner at Magilligan Prison in Limavady.  She goes to the stove and begins opening lids and stirring simmering contents. "I hope you still like salmon." She keeps her back turned, emptying green beans into a colander.

                He answers quietly. "Aye. I haven't had a good salmon for a long time. Thank you, Maggie."

               Their son, six year old Liam, runs into the kitchen and opens up the refrigerator.

               Maggie covers a pot with a lid and turns.  "Liam, no snacks now, dinner will be ready in a bit."

               He has the milk bottle in his hand when he turns to her. "I just want some cereal." He shakes the bottle. "Looks like you'll have to go to Sean's."

               She places a wooden spoon onto the counter. "Why is that, Liam?"

               "We're out of milk. Anytime we're out of something, you gotta go to Sean's to get more. Out of butter, out of milk, no more eggs…”

            “That’s enough…examples, Liam. Go get washed up then go wait at the table.”

            “Alright, ma.” Liam puts the empty milk bottle on the table in front of Gerard and meanders out of the room.

            Gerard takes the bottle in his hand and looks at it like a crystal ball while Maggie pouts her mouth and raises her eyebrows. She lets out a sigh and relaxes her face.

            “I guess we got a good deal on legal fees…and our lot of farm products as well.” He gingerly places the bottle on the table. Liam can be heard running to the dining room and sliding out a chair.

            They both speak at the same time.

            Maggie: “We can figure this out.”

            Gerard: “I want a divorce.”

            They stare at each other, the potatoes beginning to boil over.

            Liam starts singing a song to himself in the other room. “All washed up. No cereal to be had. No more milk.”

            “Mashed potatoes. We’re out of milk.” She realizes as she turns the burner off.

            Gerard tries to suffocate a smile, but can’t. “Fuck that, I’m not goin’ to Sean’s for milk.”

            Maggie shakes her head and smiles. Gerard pushes his chair back. He stands and walks over to Maggie, who waits for him to come to her. He stops before their bodies touch. Maggie reaches out to touch Gerard’s muscular arm, but he gently stops her by locking his hands with hers.

... To Be Continued