The Secret

Chapter Three

                       © 2013 by tore56789 (GOS) All rights reserved.

The year was 1978. And even in an out of the way location like Cahersiveen, on the Ring of Kerry, in County Kerry, music played all around, on tapes, on vinyl, on the radio.  Even on RTE Radio One from time –but rarely.  Which was about all they had, other than Radio Luxemburg and Benny Brown to three in the morning, after eight in the evening, on the medium wave band, along with BBC Radio One?  That about spelt out what was available back then. (The TV in Ireland at that time was a complete right-off –for Music anyhow.  Though he did admit RTE did start doing a simulcast of Top of The Pops off the BBC in 1978, to give young people here a chance to see bands performing live, which had made it into the Top 40 best songs in Britain)

   

But as a young man he adored music.  From the in-sounds like: Stairway to Heaven - Led Zeppelin, (And not because of his vocation, but because it was a damned good song)   American Pie - Don McLean,  School's Out - Alice Cooper, Star-man - David Bowie,  John Travolta & Olivia Newton-John - You're The One That I Want,  Elton John & Kiki Dee - Don't Go Breaking My Heart, and not forgetting, Whiskey in the Jar - Thin Lizzy (Great musician, if he only had kept clear of the narcotics)

The list was endless, regarding talent –true bands that didn’t just appear because they could shake their asses on stage for silly girls fantasising impossible thoughts. These artists had worked for their fame, like as if they were enlistees in the army –who had proven themselves to be true men by taking shit and cleaning shit from some drill sergeant or higher ranking official – in truth, the old music business, could be as ruthless and hard as that. It wasn’t about getting lucky on spot the next crap talent on the X-Factor, or some godforsaken country’s got talent.

     

He saw no rule because you wore a White-Collar –you had to follow gospel music and choir singers.  In fact, he then, as now, could never stand that music.   There was nothing really musical, gifted with pleasantries, anyhow, listening to people in his chapel, standing, praising God, who wouldn’t know a right note, if it bit them on their arses.

 

He was the priest there then, had been for three years.  It was his first position.  And life had been very relaxed, until that particular night in question, dawned.  In fact, before it, he had lived a very slow existence.  Reading out mass to this community on Sundays, hearing Confessions a few days a week –when it pleased him; and because he was such a huge part of the community, going around to various homes in his diocese, where tables would be laid with the best cutlery, shortly accompanied by the best food dishes, and drink, and conversation, which could last for hours.  The whole community was like one large family.  And he and his presence amongst them, like a fond member to each of their families.  And he knew secretly through the Confessional, he probably knew everyone as well as their own mothers –if not better.

 

And he loved his vocation.  And if he ever doubted God, and been a priest, in the years up to then, it was quenched when he said something to a couple –which took some marriage in jeopardy, back onto the rails of hope once more.  Or gave comfort and support to some poor adult or child, and saw from tears coming smiles and a thanks –all from his intervention.  Back then he really felt he was a chosen servant of God.  And every good deed he did unselfishly brought another smile to his Maker’s cheeks.  And rewarded him a guaranteed place in His Kingdom?

                                  

And no doubt life would have gone on like that.  And quite possibly he could have grown old in that community, except for a knock at his door on a late evening in February in 1978, and an American woman caller asking him to come with her to her home, because her husband was dying, and was asking especially for him.  He had no idea then what was to follow.  How it was going to challenge his Fate!  Force him to drink!  And through it all, curse his connection to the Vatican!  But he believed to this day, sitting there in his armchair, that person was destined to call to him that night.  He even believed what followed might even have been a test from God; which he had flunked terribly badly!