Brian O’Dowd was born in Dublin. He lives in Toronto. O’Dowd is a Professor at the University of Toronto. His novel ‘A Wicklow Girl’, was published in 2017. Available on Amazon etc. Publisher: Tellwell, Canada. In 2019 he won the prestigious Prix Galien 2019 Canadian Science Award, as reported in the Irish Times.
Wrong Table People
Brian O’Dowd Ⓒ
Whatever road could have travelled,
none better than one I did.
Although stuttered and procrastinated,
found that place a most agreeable way.
Now with new knowledge gained
left with those debts to repay.
Pub Chat
“Fun fact, Armstrong geared up to go out on the moon, broke a switch on the Eagle instrument panel, vital for take off ! Aldrin fixed the problem with part of his pen, lucky he had the write stuff.”
“How long you’ve been storing that!”
Saturday’s gabfest me and Mickey in Keoghs snug, sinking well deserved morning pints. So there.
“Tony need advice, this morning a suitcase box got delivered, ‘Happy Birthday Mickey’. From an Ex, got humpty dumped bye-bye six months ago. Tore the cardboard then a King-sized mattress was popping out, all expanded jammed in the hallway! My place already a shoebox, now using the back door. True I did miss her. What’s that about?”
“Bold move! Better feather her nest, send pillows me thinks she wants to see more of you. Mostly reclined it would appear.”
Lad on the edge with shaky Victorian digs, canal side. Playing the field, hazardous to his emotions.
“Come back trail, welcome her with open arms, display understanding, well best you as a man can. You know.”
Throw a stone in a well, test how deep it is.
“Thanks buddy, appreciate that. Reckon I can pull this off.”
“One caveat if she has a van full of suitcase boxes maybe I’d cancel the pillows.”
“Such a two face Jekyll jerk. If not for this full pint I’d be hoofing out of here!”
‘He was his father’s only hope,
his mother’s pride and joy,
and dearly did his parents love
the wild Colonial Boy.’
(anonymous, wikipedia)
With that argy-bargy we had suitable quiet moment of reflection.
“Tony those visions from the James Webb telescope are changing the star scape. Now astronomers saying the universe maybe is a lot older!”
“We need a University Science Fiction Department, I want my Sci-Fi writers to stick with facts. Each of us humans walking with 100 trillion gut microbes, weighs three pounds!”
Never has so many done so much for one.
“Pandemic bat virus laid us out, what if we get visitors from Andromeda? I’ve troubles enough digesting a delicious crusty pizza, but hamburgers from a silicon based cow? We can’t have space-beings from all over boozing together in Moon pubs, wolfing down bar snacks? How’s that going to work Mickey?”
“Me thinks ’twill not go down well.”
Imagine confusion spending a penny at the Galaxy United Nations, look I’ll say no more.
“Wrong bugs can be destroyer of worlds. Is this not obvious? Unless perchance all life in the universe come with DNA cells. World’s apart but galaxy life infused with DNA. To hob nob face to face, need must to be sharing that common constructor.”
“Tony, DNA was made by Some One, we agree. If DNA came to us from space we cannot be alone.”
“Mickey those are most profound words you’ve uttered since ‘Mama’! I need DNA in my beef for a delicate constitution, for my daily pursuit of Happiness. Meantime do not have pot luck with space aliens.”
“Listen Tony don’t forget Mulkaehy’s retirement dinner Wednesday. You’ve got ten minutes dispensing wisdoms.”
“I’ll start yodeling, then take requests.”
“Sounds wonderful. Banquets drag for hours, dignitaries word salad’s, with us crunching kale and onions. Waiting for stingy house wine distributions.”
“Olden times feasts with mugs of mead, hunks of beef, jesters with monkey trick contortions. Bawdy jokes, minstrels with lutes, pelting rotten fruit at miscreant paupers in stocks. All in good fun! Jests! How can we claim life is better now?”
“Tony it’s assigned seating, and that secretary Beryl don’t like you. I peaked at the table list, you are not by the kitchen but teetotalers abound, likely not appreciate you guzzling away. Also students by bushels, expect lots of staring at phones.”
No messenger ever bestowed such grim tidings, not Rome’s fall or hearing my favourite Late Late show host was retiring.
‘How much of that stuff you drink everyday?’
‘Myself I never liked the taste.’
‘Costs a fortune, is it worth that? Seems a waste.’
“Red and white all shot before we even sit, with me stood at attention for Amhrán na bhFiann. I need wine to feign further interest in proceedings.”
“Beryl offered a table change, get sat by that fellow licks his fingers turning pages, you recall that rumpus!”
Picked chips from my plate, asked to taste my beer! From my glass! Beryl well aware of my angsts, hence bait and switch plan. I built a fort of ketchup and mustard condiments surrounding my plate.
“Worse he uttered ‘truth to power’ and ‘proactive’ in one brief sentence, caught me off guard. Shakespeare himself would be embarrassed. Told me ‘stay in my lane’, like I’m a lumping lard heading down 100 meters hurdles, cheating to get a medal. Realized ‘post-modern’ appearance only a matter of time.”
Ate rapid, suffering with hiccups, I’d dashed to the Exit.
“Ten minute talk, so I can’t be langered. Otherwise?”
“A dog’s breakfast. So career advice for students?”
“Head to Bray find the animatronic ‘Fortune teller’, pay tariff for the card. Good investment. Things change! Will and Orv Wright high flying on a beach then astronauts breathing like aquanauts on Sea of Tranquility, spears to gatling guns, grenades with handles, Turing’s Enigma busting machine locating U boats. British radar pilots eating carrots to confuse!”
“Give them something for real!”
“Quarry Master was king in Stone age, being skilled shaping large rocks.”
“Consistent source of wisdom, certain TV cartoon show about ingenuity of suburban living in the stone age. Right?”
“If appropriate.”
“So my dear old Bray has the answers. That’s a turnip for the books.”
“Look I’ll say young people give it a go, best you can. No need to get too stuck in, like Dictators causing mayhem. We are only visiting, it will be all over the hill before you know it.”
Our Planet tries it’s best,
Earth’s myriad of creations.
Keeping us amazed.
Hops,
Moon walk and beer.
Skip,
Girls playing rope and tax.
Jump,
Fosbury flops and bail.
Bites.
White sharks. Great?
Work Away
Attending a designated Banquet table I always prepare anecdotes, wait till others finish, cautious of silence as they sup, respectful in case they’re determined to drone on. Brushed up on Albert the chimp first earthling in space in 1949, Crop circles ‘not all a sham’, bound to interest! How did the Hindenburg airship in 1937 pre-plastics, seal hydrogen in balloons? With 17 round trips across the Atlantic, before tragedy. Early Zeppelin’s used cattle intestines, with higher technology the Hindenburg had gelatin pasted on cotton. Thirty six passengers blissfully unaware, hanging by threads 650 feet over the ocean on that sixty hour trip. Permitted to smoke packing 7 million cubic feet of hydrogen above. Always nervous others would instigate these same topics, I rehearsed a back up plan to recite lines from ‘Ballad of Reading Jail’. Okay obviously not all 654 lines! Really! Waiting, desperate to interject witty remarks, I’d scribbled on the menu.
Top Banquet debacle, loose tongue recent teetotaler fellow claiming to recall everything. Floated half-truth calumnies as we sat in that full Faculty meeting. He picked his battles. Laughing about I’d gotten polluted in a Piazza of Florence attending a brain conference, previous week. Generously catered banquet, after midnight I’d stumbled worse for wear, no idea where the hotel was. Navigating ancient towns in Tuscany like narrow rabbit warrens, on a solo beat my group retired early. Pesky Wexford nemesis related I’d lost my glasses, remaining Conference days wearing shades. Perhaps I developed eye strain under brighter sunshine given sensitive celtic orbs, did he consider that? After I’d returned to the hotel no bother following Dome of Cathedral Santa Maria easily spied over rooftops, highest brick dome ever built! Thank you, architect Filippo Brunelleschi from 1436, his dome took 140 years to complete, using construction elements from Rome’s Panthenon finished in 118 AD. Who needs a GPS when you’ve got all that on your side?
Dublin lad reared on porridge, potatoes, spotty dick bread, first time in Italia. If you cannot indulge Tuscany’s vino given the opportunity where’s any point? Henceforth the ‘booze hound’, that piñata with legs, scofflaw created guffaws at many a Christmas lunch thereafter. Perhaps I’d provided Florence with a leaning tower on that night, how I rolled on the Boot. In wandering thinking of ‘David’ stood outside for 400 years, in Piazza Delia Signoria. Created at 26 years old by Michelangelo in 1504. So inspiring, how he could do that with a hammer? David’s toe and left arm got broken along the way, not unexpected for the handsome lad of 519 years. Must admit when I was 26 years never considered purchasing a block of Galway marble to hammer out a figure, these days that job made much easier using power tools and lasers. Now left with regrets, as stated from the artist Michelangelo himself:
‘The sculpture is already complete within the marble block, before I start my work. It is already there, I just have to chisel away the superfluous material.’
Although on reflection you’d never know what worrisome yoke you might release from ancient blocks of Irish marble. Other imbibing memories after long days at the grindstone with talking to people. In San Juan a Conga dance to Latin beats, tone deaf ‘Mountains of Mourne’ karaoke duet in Osaka, saki snuck, when struck we ran amuck. Following an Oz Banquet in Melbourne, melancholy feelings at the harbour being in my tin cups, not iron manacles. I was on my way to a Footy game, not life-time indentured servitude as once was the fate of 14,000 Irish dispatched to Tasmania. Close by.
Fortunate son by Grace of God.
Grant mercy to souls that travelled,
for four months left battened down.
Horrendous storage, then lived no life.
Only hardships.
Sibling Scolds
“Tony need to get a grip on your self. Honestly. Belly aching about who sits down beside you! You’re no Oscar Wilde always so moody, never sure who we’re getting, half the time.”
Advice from my sister, had to laugh, she was right! Well as usual. Or naïve. Benefit of big families we learned to deal with situations, know when to shut up, agree if pushed or not belly ache. Those qualities carried on when we went away. Dubliners good with negotiations, should be running the United Nations.
“By the way none of us ever expected you to be in such exalted company anyway, at one time you were measuring thickness of plastic bags, never heard complaining. Now looking at cells with enormous microscopes, so self important. At most you are a watcher of our creators work, while us mere mortals admire mountains and the bay. We are all busy wandering about in this world’s gallery absorbing the endless masterpieces.”
Seems she was full of it or knew a lot. Then she went on.
“Ah sure look it, if that’s the worse thing to complain about, well now that’s high class nonsense. Never had choices with us lot, we trained you proper.”
All said with what passed for a privilege sibling smile.
In that house loads of cousins arrive unannounced to be fed. Ma’s miracle with loaves and spuds knew twenty ways to slice a banana.
“Fill up on bread butter and jam.” She’d say. No time for nutrition those days. Just get a belly full.
“It’s not like you made anything in a cell, only messing with it, fortunate being alive when they’ve the big equipment. You bunch of Johnnies on the spot sit on shoulders of giants and smart engineers.”
Perhaps as she kept going only reminded why I left the nest so soon. Family bonds mean siblings have secrets to hold.
“More stuff we find in the cell become confident it did not appear by chance.” I offered.
“You’ve a point there, I’ll give you that. Best keep going then. Why not.”
God speed she meant.
Parsimonious Sitters
Most abominable scoundrel is the friend when both seated comfortable at a table of perfect strangers, all set for the evening. Then he gets the wave-over from a better friend. My hand shakes when reminded of such horrors, being abandoned in limbo. Wishing I lived in olden days with much cheaper beer, best coat hangers, hardy zips and also feasts with a bucket of mushy rotten tomatoes.
Such friends like having both hands in a wasp nest.
Sometimes I think it’s safer not to travel remain busy in the lab with doors closed. Biologists can be small-minded, become that way spending life times puzzled by microscopic cells. Most common are the prowling Banquet creatures determined not to place large butts down, refuse to settle, such discontent with assigned placing. Hover past absorbing and judging everything, fixed annoyed scorn, strident headshake, turning with scouring an upgraded location. Dispatch, belittle us seated folks with withering bewildered gaze, only wanting to see back of us.
‘Me with them, I’ve just got tenure! I’m more better than most of youse riff raff.’
Upwardly mobile tormentor failed the top table list, almost see tears of distress held back, the event highlight of his year. Still consigned back with us plebs, such indignities! How did they not see his recent research in big shot journals? After such shambles have his College administration send the ignorant organizing committee those publications. Getting rejected by these plonkers was infuriating.
Dealing with rejections was made easier as a young gurriers I’d learned the score. Reminiscent of bachelor times, brand new girl friend gathered from Saturday night’s dance, after I’d observed her bald faced disappointment with my lack of friends in my pub. We’d sat isolated on bar stools as the gang of popular classmates passed by. Notice exclusionary glances, buddies doing no favours, their rejection feeling as daggers.
I appeared as an outlier, not a desired look when discovering you are a weirdo.
One of those dossers, while I’m on a call of nature, encouraged my female companion to ‘let me go’. Hey man, I did the hustle paid the dance ticket, don’t horn in, take advantage being more handsome and posh. Never trivial getting a date with birds from the dance, culled from the pack of critical girl friends. In me best clobber, worn sole shoes polished, an evening bath with shampoo and aftershave, boosted up feeling deluxe! Being ostracized accelerated that Mailboat escape from coventry, on the crossing shared pints with lump construction lads, gaining info for best Kilburn landladies.
In defense of the ‘sitting reluctant’, they know themselves. Let them find a switcheroo, locate that table with superior people. Better than be examined by their perplexing eyes over reading glasses and phone interruptions, likely having instructed a secretary to call.
‘Oh sorry look I have to get this.’
So what should I do mean time?
As my phone currently switched off.
Never encourage a parsimonious sitter, immediately you assume lofty responsibilities as they contaminate the table. Reluctant sitters offer nothing, no entertaining anecdotes, their mere presence deemed sufficient. Pervading air of could have had a ‘table superior’ persists, obviously some administrative error. Prepared to dash, perceiving any gap.
Adios odious, lifted from purgatory,
be one with giants, a deserved place.
Exemption from this if a plonker was previously encountered and suffered each other here to fore, a disgruntled dud. Terrified looks from all sides.
Oh not him again. Please to move on we both agree.
Anyone can be guilty misjudging table companions, after days in the Convention center, took that Mississippi paddle boat tour in New Orleans, seated with a large team of non-English speakers. I eschewed a river boat dinner, sat in bliss on top deck. Heaven sent with a mug of local beer, those paddles churning that one momentous night upon a lazy river.
Happy Tables
If a contestant on Mastermind my chosen subject would be ‘Calypso music from Trinidad!’ I know the styling of many singers, Mighty Sparrow with Jean and Dinah, Crazy Parang Soca, Arrow Hot Hot Hot and Tiny winy, Lord Kitchner’s Old time calypso. Lord Relator with food prices, Penguin his deputy essential, Crazy, Chalkdust, Black Stalin, Byron Lee, Mighty Shadow, King Austin. I’ve toured Port of Spain tents in Carnival time, seen Calypso King and Queen competitions by the Savannah. Colleagues and island acquaintances astonished at my knowledge. Always delighted to hear West Indian accent at the table, eager to have engaging talk on history of music down in the islands. Who are the next stars? Otherwise rarely get such opportunities. Mind you I could talk all night with Jamaican’s and focus on reggae and the eternal Legend of Bob Marley!
Oh to be at those laughing tables, when cluster of strangers become chatterboxes, immediate magical camaraderie. Form trusty table bonds often enabled by one bold personality. Take wall flowers have them bloom, clamoring to be charming, no dandelions for such a night. Stuck in the muds dragged from shells, can help light up the table. It’s their night, enjoy and remember with so few. Glasses lifted and clinked, carried away with secrets revealed, feeling it’s all okay now. Other tables gaze over at happy oasis island, realized what they missed, plodding along with brussels sprouts, chicken or steak, now all tasting bitter. Tired waiting for tiramisu, only wanting it to end.
Most grateful to have attended a meeting in Maui, there I discovered singer Israel Kamakawiwo’ole. Wow! Hawaii another island with great music.
Our French waiter on the hotel patio in Maui, would deep breath the air at each breakfast.
“Mes amis, another day in paradise.”
My most favourite song from Trinidad ‘Give me more Tempo’, by Calypso Rose and Israel’s ‘In this life’ from Hawaii.
Gets every party started!
The Galway Review 