Corollary and rant

I was reading a beautiful little Raymond Chandler short story called Goldfish, and well I thought there might be an application to Limerick’s own gang problems but very quickly I ran out of plot and imagination. But there is a corollary here, and I try to stay clear of rants on my lill ol blog, but rant I must now.

I grew up in this place, went to school in this place, met my wife here, buried my mother here, my kids were born here, I played sport badly here and happily, my kids are playing much better now thank you. I’m life invested here. My dad is growing old not far away, there’s bundle of cousins come rolling through my home frequently. I go for a walk in Cratloe woods in the evenings or do my Clydesdale impression á bicyclette. I wander round the town on the weekends, do the coffee and looking mysterious alone thing occasionally, I meet friends and acquaintances on the streets and say howsitgoin or howrtings or aboydakid. I was not born here, but my formative years were here in this Pigtown. In short, I’m bonded and bound up in the kip.

And for a good while now,  we have a group of thugs who are running riot and holding this town to ransom. We know who they are, where they live, who beget them, where they get their money from, who their friends are, where they socialize, we know fucking everything about this shower of cunts who terrorise us, the citizens of this old place. But here’s a thing which troubles me deeply and makes me loose sleep at night, they are a very small few and we are a much larger many.

As I came into my teenage years , my bullet proof years, my beautiful period, God I was handsome, well I learnt about what goes around comes around and how ultimately bullies get fucked over. I saw in the school yard, on the sports field, knocking around with my mates. But we always had a good way of working things out among ourselves, and sometimes it was painful. Our fathers were remote and distant, my own somewhere in a virtual Mongolia most of the time, but there was a strong sense of a watching patriarchy and safety. There was a hum of masculinity about the place, at matches, in the pub, bringing the kids out fishing and swimming, teaching us about life.

And you see this is the frustration I very feel, because this patriarchy hasn’t gone away you know, I see it every weekend when I bring my boys to training or I go to match, when I walk with my work mates at lunch time, in the evening on the street, in the pub at weekends. But we don’t feel safe anymore, we don’t sound safe, we’re exposed and fraught and frozen like lamped rabbits.  And why, because of a small group of thugs, who peddle their filth and know enough about the law and civil liberties to keep them outside.

We’re afraid, we won’t act on our conviction, won’t intervene lest we get involved in something which might damage us or our families. They have intimidated witnesses, forced people from their homes, colonised neighbourhoods where good people lived before, and we have stood idly by.  

My friend told me a story about a hard fucker, a fella who never courted trouble, but when it arrived he never shirked and always stood his ground. Sorta like a Clint Eastwood character in real life. Well his kid did get into a fight with the wrong family and got a hiding. And when he confronted the situation he in turn got a beating by the boy’s father. But here’s the thing, these people were no match for our Clint character, but he knew that he had to leave his hands by his sides or else he was that dead man walking. They would have killed him but not before they killed his family.  The police are powerless in this scenario, and the people on the ground know it.  There is a growing apathy about the situation and that is the real killer.

 And there you have it.

The classy broad, well there were two, one went to Southern California and had twins whilst writing the coolest blog on the plant. The other is a pilot in training and a princess in waiting.

Fitz, still grizzled but off the liquor. The domestic challenge is everything to him, and he couldn’t make the private eye gig pay. Flipping burgers and dreaming.

The McCanes, unfortunately still slither about the town.   

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6 responses to “Corollary and rant

  1. Jeezo, Sniff, this was something else. And beautifully written. I can feel your frustration at what’s happened to your community.

    I’m so sorry about your mum and I hope that it’s not long before the legacy of good people like her is recalled in Limerick over the thugs that seem to have the place in their grip.

    I don’t know what the answer is but I know that as long as there are fine, decent people like yourself who take a stand for their community, there is hope.

    x

  2. She was a classy broad too Sam.

    It’s a small place really and these no-go places can reached in minutes from anywhere in the city. Bizarre!

    I suppoese we can only deal with stuff as it presents to us.

  3. Now you have me all Sniffle and Cry-ey.Thank you love. You are a star of a man and exactly what makes Limerick the great place it is. No matter how long I’m gone it’ll always be home and I think of the old town every day.Sometimes for no more than a second or two (like today when I thought there would no where else on Earth I’d rather be) and other times it can be an all day affair akin to mourning.For what exactly I don’t know, a life that wasn’t mine?, a place that never really existed? The yawning chasm once occupied by my so called family and friends? Perhaps all of these things and maybe none.Part of it could be that I won’t ever be able to live and love there again.Another part would be my kids not getting to grow up there.( I think that’s the hardest of all actually)

    Limerick IS a great place but she would be nothing without her people and you,my friend,are one of those that lends her her greatness.
    xxxxx D

  4. Thanks Dev,

    I know there’s some sage quote about our attachment to the place we’re born and reared, no matter what the quality of the place is. I don’t believe there is anyway around this, it’s like breathing. So as you say, you’ll always consider it home.
    I suppose equally your own kids will consider your own place and hers (I’m making an assumption here) as home, and feel the same bond and attachment that we did, to their own everyday world. There’s no easy way round coming back I suppose, but I wouldn’t let that stop you if you wanted to come back visit. You’re a clever girl and I’m sure you could figure out a way.

    Good luck.

  5. Corollary and rant, and whose to blame.
    tiz the government meehauling that has left us down, for not grabbing this issue by the balls and taking care of it for us and more so for our kids, who are growning to dislike this city because of its minority scum. When the scum bags intimidate the law biders, then the gov should make sure to do the same and more to them, how?, tiz simple.. everytime the scumbags are on their way to that wedding, birthday party, holiday to their villas in spain, they get hauled over and hauled in for questioning, long enough for them to miss any bit of fun they were aiming for, and let the law do that over and over again, ’til eventually they’ll obviously come to heel.
    For offences they found guilty of?, don’t mind your B&B in limerick’s finest hotel, no, for 1st offence 1 month in foreign legion, 2nd offence 1 year in foreign legion, they’d get plenty of what they are looking for over there with an abundance of clint eastwoods that won’t ever back down, and likely all this would move the suffering and fear from our kids on to them (for a change). A lazy good for nothin government won’t care for its good peoples needs, you and me should not be afraid for our kids in our city. Many solutions work around the world, but a lazy government wont take note, few if any in singapore fear to walk home late at night and live and love as they want within the law.

  6. I think you’re spot on orangy. And the silent and long surrering majority agree with you, too.

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