Memories Of Mum : Mother Poetry

Living as an Irish emigrant in Australia I often get asked the question where do I come from .

Rather than go through the rigmarole of where , why , when , and all that goes with  it I have adopted an answer .

"I come from my Mother "

That responses usually gets a laugh and defuses any further questions about my ethnic background .

In saying that we all have Mothers I pondered tha question to myself , howm well do I know my Mother .

As a child I know she fed me , bathed me , she hugged  and kissed me and lots more .

I wrote her a poem on her birthday once .

Mums Birthday Message

By Paul McCann

 

If only I was there in the hospital so long ago ,
to see my own Mother born, well I might have said hello .
Then if they asked me to nurse her well you might have heard me say
As I held her close Hi Mum, its me have a happy birthday .
Welcome into the world Mum I'm so glad that you came my way
If only this were possible ,but no I'm sorry to say .
For its because of you that I was born therefore I will pray,
That God will bless you dearest Mum on your very special day .

I was a child my Mother took care of me and I knew she was special .  When I began to ask my Mother some questions about her life I realised how special she really was .

Here is a brief look at my Mothers life .

Before my Mother married her maiden name was Mary Robinson .

 

I would like to introduce to you this lady of principle . A silent achiever . 

She grew up in Ardoyne in Belfast and emigrated to Australia . Mary Robinson originally lived in a small village called Ardoyne in North Belfast .

 As a young girl she  loved Irish dancing and Irish music .

 Her Father Richard was a  musician and was always invited to parties and gatherings .

He tried to teach Mary to play the push button .

 

"It was such a heavy and cumbersome instrument to hold that my Father suspended it on a rope to a hook he had in the ceiling . I was only interested in dancing . "

 

Mary has many memories she would like to share like Christmas in the district of Ardoyne .

"Its funny when we are children . We love the snow especially if it lays on Christmas Day ."

 

Mary went to Chief Street school and remembers 35 in her class . The teacher would ask each child to bring in a lump of coal in the winter to keep the heating in the school going .

As an only child Mary was very close to her parents . She loved visiting the Poor Clare's convent with her Mother and they often brought little donations over . Back then the Poor Clares were an enclosed order and you never saw their faces . Mary went to mass and said her prayers and did regular novenas . Her Mum and Dad passed away when they were very young leaving Mary all alone . Not long into her teens Mary went out to work  in the Irish linen industry and recalls going to work in the winter with her friends  .

 

"When we were fourteen we went to work in the Mills . We used to dread coming home from work because we had to try and get past the corner boys at Brompton Park and Flax Street . There they would be standing with big smiles on their faces and beside them a large pile of freshly made snowballs all ready for firing and fire them they did ! "

 

I must admit there is an innocence in that . The sight of young lads chasing wee girls with a snowball is comically quaint . The trick was not to get caught by her Mother .  Mary had a chum by the name of Patsy McGowan who lived in Stratford Gardens in Ardoyne .They ran the gauntlet every day

Between the gauntlet of a small army throwing snowballs  .

 

Mary tells me ,

"The lads rarely missed , no matter how hard we ran . They were good shots .

 

In the village of Ardoyne lads played handball up against gable walls of houses . The gable wall of Maggie Walkers was a popular handball court all the year around . The same fella would stand on the corner at night singing and slegging . It was a way of life for a lot of young lads as employment was

High and most young men had nothing to do except for standing on the corners watching the girls go by . The lads were often mischievous and played tricks on people .

Mary told me of one incident she remembered ,

"One night a few of them dug up a tree from a garden in Jamaica Street that had been the pride and joy of its owners .Next morning when the couple got up they discovered their lovely tree was gone . When they went outside they found the tree planted in the middle of the garden next door ."

 

 

There was some colourful language that day from tongues so sharp they could clip your hedges or cut a tree down to size ."

 

Also in the winter , people would come out in the dark at night with bottles of water pouring  the contacts all over the ground , so that in the morning it would be frozen like a sheet of ice .

 

 

"II think Butler Street had to best street life "

Said Mary .

 

Mary remembers walking home from Church on Christmas .

"it was like fairyland with all the windows brightly lip up with Christmas decorations and trees .

In 1952 Mary and all the people in Ardoyne sat up making buntings to decorate the street for the fifty year jubilee of Holy Cross parish ."

In 1953 Mary was married to Sammy McCann from Jamaica Street .

Mary and Sam had five kids , Marian , Paul , Geraldine , Terry and Sarah .The Mc Cann's grew up were a happy family . It was when the troubles arrived in 1968 that things got out of control and in 1972 Mary and Sam emigrated to Australia . Mary still remembers what it was like to arrive in a strange country .

 

"We were taken to a migrant hostel who provided temporary accommodation until we found something of our own . We stayed there for three months . 95% of the people could not speak English . What a surprise it was when one day we heard this Belfast voice . It was that of Anne And Billy Liddy who came from the Bone with their six children . Both of our families couldn't believe it .  A little later on we met other Belfast people like Sally and John McGeough's from the Bone , Jim and Vera Crawford from Rathcoole , the Mc Falls from Ardoyne ,The Devlin's from the Falls , The Rocks family and Mc Callum  families  also from Ardoyne ."

 

Since writing this I was informed that most of those families have returned back to Belfast and now are living happily there . What a small world it is and how nomadic the Irish people can be . 

 

Mary remembers the first Christmas in Australia .

 

"We had these big sunny skies and you hung your wash out . Half an hour later it was dried and you brought it back inside .  No more drying around the fireplace at night . As a matter of fact every home we went into never had a fireplace ."

 

I asked Mary if she had any trouble being understood .

She told me .

"People looked at us but could not understand us talking . We thought Belfast people must have been very smart as we had no trouble understanding them ."

 

After 35 years living in Australia Mary still misses many things about Ardoyne . Like the bakeries and the friends and neighbours . The chocolates and Holy Cross Church , The children and the streets . "

 

Tragedy struck in 1986 when Terry one of Mary and Sam's daughters was killed in a car accident . Not long after that Mary's husband Sam died from a massive heart attack .  After Sam's death Mary returned back to Ardoyne .

She was there in 1991 when she stayed for six weeks with her brother in law who passed away during the visit . She remained there for a while and toured on into Europe before returning back to Australia .  

 

Mary's daughter went back to Ardoyne and married Robert O'Hanlon from Eskdale Gardens . Not long afterwards Marian , Robert and their family left Ardoyne and emigrated to Australia . They now have made their home in New South Wales , near Penrith .

 Marys son Paul was married to an Australian girl also called Mary and they have four children .  

Sarah and Geraldine Mary's other daughters have children of their own

 

Mary has a special message for all absent friends .

There are plenty of us . We should all share a little of who we are and where we are from . It's not really that hard .  Its our heritage that we must share and pass on to people everywhere .

 

By Paul McCann