"In the long ago"

I was a man of principle in those days, hardly out of nappies,
and keen on future happiness,

though the prospects were bleak as I swung the lead weights
of the bench handpress.

But good souls made it bearable. And I had a stab at
the nine First Fridays.

And prayed when no one suspected, and kept my priorities
in good order.

On the rare occasion that I approached the Machine Shop late,
it was always on a full stomach.

And I was wiser than the wisdom of old men, and women, who,
confided in me as you would a guru.

And patient, as they unburdened their uncertain souls.
Sadnesses that are with me still.

As is cantankerous Bob. Gentle Ivor. Jean in her sinful softness.
Sadie: "Good living" and Hannah.

And Jimmy: coarse and as complex as an old rope.
And Dorothy: rouged and knowing.

And bigotry among those not long out of nappies, I challenged
head on, so that she,

the Virgin Mary reappeared in my room. And the miracle?
My not needing to know the culprit.

Walking through the packed church I was late, but before the high altar
the coffin was patient.

It was the 5th of February and the last in a rerun
of the nine First Friday's.

And time

for Requiem Mass for my father.

And the tide was turning.

__________
© Cormac McCloskey