Was saddened today to hear the news of the death of Big Tom McBride. May he rest in peace. A long-time friend of my family – especially to my brother Gerard – it’s as if he was always there. He had a unique singing voice and the sound, especially the sound associated with his Mainliners and Travellers band, had a tone of its own. That, at least, will live on and I’m sure will get many spins in days, weeks, months and years to come.
Back in 2001 we had a festival down on the shores of Lough Gara. We called it “Flock to The Lough” and at a planning meeting I suggested we might ask Big Tom to come and perform there. A suggestion taken on board and a phonecall later, it was in train. He absolutely packed the place that night and the sound bouncing off the surface of Lough Gara is a lasting memory. It paved the way for a few more “Flock to The Loughs” but his willingness to come and play on the shores of a lake in a packed marquee, gave courage when it was needed. A happy memory!
His songs, typically country in many ways, told stories and some of them, in keeping with the genre, sad stories. He told them, through song, in a convincing way. The last time I heard him sing live was ironically in Templeronan Cemetery on the day my father, Bill, was buried. Tom and Rose were there. My brothers had a desire to fill in the grave and while it was being filled, we said the Rosary and the filling was still taking place when we finished. I looked over to Big Tom and asked if he’d sing something. He did. He sang “Where we’ll never grow old” and it’s a moment – as I think of it now – on the opposite shore of the same Lough Gara, that I will never forget.
The last time I saw him was in late January on the day his beloved Rose was laid to rest in the grounds of their local church. The big man was at a big loss that day and looked so sad and it wasn’t difficult to see him following her. I’ve seen that many times in life. It’s a sign of something running very deep and something very real. It is love. I had truly hoped to meet him again and the chance of that happening this month was very real. Alas, that’s not the case anymore.
“Don’t forget to give my love to Rose” was one of his songs. Made famous by Johnny Cash, I’ve no doubt for Tom it had a special meaning and his “Rose” was very real to him. May they both rest in the togetherness they lived – in peace and in love in God’s presence.
In the coming days, I’m sure many people will have and discuss their own memories of Big Tom and that’s the way we cope with loss. Jesus knew that when he asked his “disciples” on the Emmaus Road, “What matters are you discussing as you walk along?” He gave them the chance to talk, remember and come to a deeper truth. For Tom’s family, fans and countless friends, may that conversation and journey take place as well.
A priest in the neighbouring diocese is offering "DRIVE-THRU" Ashes today. It's intended for those who might not have time to attend Mass today and there's merit in it. Those who choose to stop the car and interrupt their journey will be marked with the Lenten Sign that is Ashes. Come night time, they'll have faded away but the moment of contact will not be forgotten.
I just had Morning Mass here in the parish - one of three I'll celebrate today - and again that mark has been made. It's not about show or display but, I think, a willingness to allow ourselves be marked in His name.
There's a sadness in our Parish this Lenten morning since one of our parishioners died suddenly and unexpectedly last night. A woman, in her mid-sixties and full of life, who had so much to give and live for. She worked very closely with me in Urlaur Church - where she was sacristan but much, much more. When I came to the parish she was a member of the Parish Pastoral Council and served two terms, bringing to it many of her talents. Indeed the Early Morning Mass for Lent that we've just celebrated was her suggestion a number of years ago. She planned on being with us this morning - she was, in our prayers and thoughts around her and her family.
She noticed the things I'd so easily miss, point them out but only when she had an idea in mind to do something creative and meaningful. Last Saturday, she pointed out that the Thurible was in serious need of cleaning. Typical of her, before pointing it out, she had gone on line to find out the best ways of cleaning something that had been left far too long without cleaning. The remedies were amusing but I knew she'd follow through. She told me she was going to take it home to work on it and added "I hope you won't have a funeral". I assured her we'd manage and thanked her for her attentiveness. Her husband came home from work yesterday to find her dead on their kitchen floor. He called me and I went immediately, shocked and scarcely able to take in the reality that she had died. As I bent to pray over her and for her, I noticed that she was holding in her hand the little tray from the Thurible - shining as it had not shone in years. Her final act of service to God was cleaning the Thurible from which arises the incense of prayer. It shone in her hand as she had shone in our midst. I blessed her with the Holy Water of my tears that are again flowing as I write these words. There are so many good people around us and often we may well not give them the recognition they deserve.
About an hour before I got the call, I was in Ballaghaderreen and took the picture of the rainbow, featured above. I love rainbows and this one just seemed to end or begin (depending which way you look at it) from this little row of houses on the Castlerea Road. There's a promise linked with the Rainbow - an Old Testament Promise that God would never abandon HIs people. I pray that Nuala Hawkins, the woman I speak of, has encountered the fullness of that promise.
So - the thought for today - make the most of it for those with whom you share life, value them, thank them, reassure them, acknowledge them and pray with and for them.
I was so sorry to hear of Ronnie Corbett’s death. May he rest in peace. What memories that little man holds for all of us. Together with the “other Ronnie”, he brought much laughter to us all in a way that was as appropriate as it was funny. No screaming or agendas, no tearing down of people to secure a cheap laugh. Mighty stuff. I loved his monalogues at the end of the shows, when he’d sit in a chair that made him look even smaller than he was and tell a wandering story that had a millisecond punchline and four mile walk to reach it! Excellent. I think he inspired many comedians of our day, people like Peter Kay and Rob Brydon come to mind, who manage to make us laugh without making us cringe too. God bless him, comfort his family and grant him Eternal Rest. Going to search now for a few clips that will be easily found when I need to bit of a lift. For a small man, he carried many and lifted them on high ….
(The lines that follow are based on a few words shared at Masses here in Kilmovee Parish last weekend as we celebrated All Souls’ Day)
Many years ago I was coming out of Gurteen with my nephew. He was maybe four or five at the time. We passed by a house where a local man had a lot of machinery; diggers, low loaders, tractors etc. My nephew, Bill, looked at the machinery and then said to me: “Vinnie, which would you rather be – a priest or a machine driver?” I said “Ah, I think I’d rather be a priest Bill”. He continued to look back at the machinery and he said “Yeah, but if they had Hitachis when you were a young fellow, which would you have been?”
I’ve no doubt he’s forgotten that conversation but I haven’t! I often think about these moments of innocence and wonder. I think too of the fascination young lads, like Bill, have with diggers and heavy machinery. Quite often these are numbered among their first toys. Maybe it’s something to do with the size of them. They’re so much bigger than the car. Often they are brightly coloured – yellows, blues, oranges and the lettering on them is huge too. HITACHI in big bold lettering. Everything about them speaks of power and strength.
Maybe too it has something to do with the fact they can break open the ground. That’s what the digger does. Solid ground opens to its touch and work can begin. Always there’s a purpose to the breaking of the ground. Maybe it’s a ditch between two fields that’s knocked to make for a bigger field. It might be a hole for a well or the first opening of the ground to pave the way for the foundation of a new home. I remember Jim Fahy on the top of Barr na Cuige, asking Monsignor Horan what he was doing “I’m building an airport Jim, but don’t tell anyone”!! In the background a digger clawing its way into the earth so that the work could commence and be continued. Diggers, machinery – powerful and strong – open the ground and, always, with purpose.
In this month of November we recall the opening of the ground in many of our cemeteries to receive the reverenced bodies of people we’ve known and loved who have died. There’s a purpose in these openings as well. Machinery, more often than not, gives way to the local gravedigger or a family member, neighbour or friend who with shovel, spade and pick, open the ground with purpose. It’s a necessary opening that speaks of respect, reverence, grief and faith. We remember at this time, those for whom the ground has been opened and pray they know lasting peace. It’s a very raw memory for many who are still coming to terms with a recent loss. For others, it’s a call to remember an anniversary with a prayer or name on a November list. For all, it’s a reminder that we continue to be in relationship, in communion with those gone before us.
I recently read words from St Paul. (1 Corinthians 15:35-37) I don’t recall reading them before though I must have done. They came in the context of people asking Paul what form the resurrection of the body takes. What shape? What will we see again? Paul’s answer is very direct. He says it is a “stupid question”! He goes on to say that the seed planted in the ground bears no resemblance to the crop it produces. The glory of the crop far surpasses the planted seed. Think of a bunch of flowers. Look at their colour, take in their smell and then consider the seed from which they came. The seed, though essential, gives way to the glory and beauty of the grown crop or fruit.
I have to say I found these words very helpful to me. In recent years I have often wondered about my parents. I believe I will see them again but wondered what form they will take. What version of them will I see? Is it the parents I knew at the time of their deaths or younger versions? I didn’t know them in their absolute youth or prime so what will I see? Paul’s words have helped me realise I will know them for who and what they are. The people who gave everything for me but I’ll see them in a way far more spectacular than I could ever imagine. I’ll know them from the seed – from the planting, from all that bound and continues to bind us as one but in a way I could never imagine. The seed gives way to the flower.
We remember then all gone before us. We remember the necessary opening of the ground – an opening with purpose and pray God’s rest for all those we have known and loved. We pray increased faith for ourselves as we continue the journey of life.
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An aside!
I looked for the clip from Barr na Cuige and came across this. Ground well broken!
I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone, it’s not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people that make you feel alone.
Sad to hear of the death of Robin Williams. Sad to think that one who made so many laugh seems to have ended life in the darkest of moments. May he find the peace for which he must have searched and reap the rewards of the happiness he brought to others along his way.
This quote has featured a bit over the past few days. I’m not sure if it’s from one of his movies or a personal reflection but there’s a truth in it – possibly a truth for himself.
I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone, it’s not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people that make you feel alone
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