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. – https://shorturl.at/O94ac

‘Movements’

By Brian O’Dowd

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‘Grown Up’

Once a nuisance but on reflection banning condoms Ireland’s ‘masterful stroke’ avoided rare out of wedlock activities in bare nicks of time.   Scoring us needed points for Hereafter judgements beyond!  Likely get done for venials, but mortalers avoided by a hare’s breath.  Appreciate Eire once strident righteous intent banning films and magazines purveyors of bad thoughts.  Old wisdoms long demanded no striptease joints, deprived for our own good.  Some might claim while on this planet all other creatures even gorillas move about in birthday suits, so what’s our deal?  Okay except turtles maybe armadillos and shell fish, how far did that get them?  In Ireland obviously we’d mostly be comparing with farm stock.  Perhaps Stag nights for innocent lads essential?  Prepare for what they’ll come ‘face to face’ on that first wedding night.  Confronted with wanting but wondering where does he fit in?  Must be more to it!  Having that first observation it’s not all intuitive for those uninitiated in those arts.  Having no clue, soon enough pointed in right direction get off on swing of things that separates men from boys.  Some claimed ‘no sex’ in Ireland until ‘TV’.  Bringing ‘behaviours’ into Living rooms Canary’s still wailing on that can of worms.  

Our parent’s generation not sinners we hounds turned out to be.  With their precious evening household gathering singing ‘Molly Malone broad and narrow’ and ‘come ye back Danny Boy’, precocious young one on piano.  She with the medals.  Victorian’s prim and proper era still pervaded, unblemished clean as whistles fit for storming thru’ ‘Pearly Gates’.  Ladies sensibly attired to the nines for sea bathing, sandy shoe one suit young lads, shirt and tie hoping glimpse ankle or two!  Decide who they’d wish to be dancing with.  Did my darndest exploring Boomer’s turn of face those mad times!  No level playing field for our bumpy rides.  Many Virtuous headed to hell in a hand basket when ‘foreign’ fashions, bikini plus mini-skirt ‘appeared and blossomed’ in rebel Sixties.  That double whammy no trivial matter, most revealing event from that century.  Having loads more to deal with naturally we got deflected.  Lethargic Nature got overwhelmed, not offering any rest for getting wicked.  Tumultuous teenage times with Boomers plus that psychedelic music.  Those days now only can remember or imagine!  Got way a head, young lads flooded by big boy hormones. 

Wayward hormones set to bursting!

Perhaps following many War fatigues ‘Father Time’ realized need lighten up.  With those global trends entering Ireland our Trojan women pulled it off!

Suddenly!

Much more to observe when nothing is on.

Adjusting did not come easy,

Harder times.

What chance did fearful lads be having, so long diligently avoiding ‘impure thinking’ now having skimpy parades trusting about from every neighbourhood?

Not to ignore all that ‘carry on’.

Mostly admirations no complaints.

No bodies were rendered from stone.

Courtown beach summers full moon round bonfires, incoming swelling tides waving approval never having witnessed the likes.  Museum ‘do not touch’ rules applied.  Topping off pressures having dreams fulfilled meeting country girls at Disco dances.  They penetrated our small world, appearing with bedsits and comfortable furniture!  Bonus times!

Belfast Express train!  Back by Saturday night.  With no stopping.

Many manly hullabaloo’s avoided, fortunate our lads did not wear cowboy hats, to be really pouring gas on those fires.  Adorned with full brim and curl for lady’s approval, sitting astride galloping on green acres.  Reality was half empty ‘auld-sod’ needed boosting, flittered away many young ones got dispatched on Mail boats.  Later when spreading wings at London’s ‘Rock ‘n Roll’ times needed be careful to avoid the Lump.

‘Ah sure more talent where that lot come from.

We’ve packed schools having smart kids!

Loaded up with best ‘Certificates’.

As if bright sons and daughters got spit out with morning dew.  After departed to enrich other lands.

Grass greener away?

Bone marrows hewn from an Emerald isle.

Earth’s most Purple patch.

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‘Miracle Crossing’

Drink might be very death of me, but booze once saved my life.

Quiet cul-de-sac meet busy intersection, daily traverse hectic main road continue walking down other side.  Better for the sun shine.  One special morning ‘burdened’ carrying few empty cans of porter needing disposal, missed out on garbage day.  Caused my departure from routine not crossing over, headed to public bin on my side.

Tigum?

Then I’ll continue.

Five minutes later threw cans into square gray public recycle box.  At that moment hearing a louder metallic crash turned to see other side of road observing car elevated being one foot in the air vaulted over pavement.  Do not know what caused the fast car to veer that frightening direction, no walkers on that side walk.  Wayward car damaged given large garden tree in the way.   In front of the commotion bus stopped, driver witnessed perhaps with video.  Firemen used jaws of life extricate driver from mangled steel.  Watching realised could contribute nothing extra, my dumped cans had me wondering.

Without empty porters I’d be flattened.

Target and speed have no escape.

Still intact but for those empty cans.

Me at ~180 lbs and 3,600 lbs for automobile.

No contest.

Who’d predict survival from pint habit mastered in Liffey pubs eons ago, as younger dosser.  Ever since had also served me well.  Irish lad’s propensity to enjoy chats with pints had paid off, saved my carcass for another day.   Now occasionally toss can or two paying homage passing that bin.  Shape fitting a grave stone, often pass by with a whistle.  

Responsible Disposal!

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‘Angry Roads’

Today drivers take the cake, highly strung competitive lives, itchy brazen foot accelerating, avoid stopping at lights ‘valued’ minutes twiddling thumb’s to bare bones.  Antsy for coffee and doughnut ‘drive through’. 

“Look I’m Important.”

Pawn in life’s game?

But great being a player!

God’s design legs to stand, bones to shake, took that hike each day.  Muscles of mine like dog’s four feet relish strides, although me not sniffing many hedges.  Likely they stink.  Same 9 yards whatever inclement elements, except forked light/thunder those conjoined twins keep me indoors.  One strike then away with the Angels.  Yobs driving reckless ‘daring do’.  Never before experienced today’s rascal times at ‘cross’ roads.  Need weather eye out, on toes avoid getting slain.   Streets where even Angels fear to thread.  At crossing need see whites of gurrier’s eyes ensure braking, not intent breaking my bones.  Seem they are most concerned not putting unnecessary wear and tear on tires.  There’s the no indicate people saving on bulbs causing confusions.  Not need Nostradamus anticipate how I’ll depart, numero-uno shattered crushed staring at cloudy skies.  Brain matter my constant companion, on shut down drill, leaking on the asphalt.

All my Algebra failures.

Never good with them spellings.

Ending not with whimper but a bang.

From happy lad to speed bump, wee hill to climb.  When push came to shove next car gets it’s roll over, handy experience.    

Me out prone two heels up.

“For life of me! Not see him.”

Well aware steamed under collar annoyance with my perceived ‘Royal Highness’ waltzing at leisure pace over Zebra crossing.  

Having me gallop?

Dingbats.

Midnight vagabonds been busy sawing down speed cameras, major disrespecting walkers.  Big shots finally ‘caved’ officially got rid of them, no more taking irritating uncontested guilty photos.  That will learn them yobs.  My future existence no value in those calculations.

No witness gutted.

‘Too Late, not moving, Ambulance wasting their time.’

‘Should have looked both ways.’

‘Like Mamma warned.’

‘Avoid dementia need brain challenge’, getting them in spades.  One foot step out clobbered by ‘Electric bike’ scary yokes.  Remember days with proper bike and bell.  Once ages ago Rathgar to Ringsend school on my racing bike four times a day.  Came back for Mother’s lunch, long haul down along canal with never a bother.  See in those days by midday ‘twas dinner having tea later, then with ‘recycling’ every week day.  Now SUV’s backing from garage, sleepy driver early mornings twilight.   Needs me watching with both eyes and ears, cars exiting never expecting early path walker.

‘Heaven’s sake’.  I shout!

‘Would ye stay in bed till working man has gone off.’

Many ways thinking I’m moocher, driver’s late for work need priority rights full steam nutcase.  Be thrown under their bus in a heartbeat.  Siblings doing family duty trek over the pond for consoling rituals.

‘Him right enough bit more mangled.’

After Dears and Tears it’s all over.

Coffin nailed shut over my dead body.