Frank,  Malachy,  Alphie

No time to edit, and had to cut to the chase on this piece I was going to make perfect.  But with Teddy's call, it is too timely to let wait.

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Irish Word Dancing

 A couple weeks ago I went to see the McCourt brothers at the Bearsville Theater.  I got to see Frank, Malachy, AND Alphie.  I was very excited about Alphie, as he is the one we have never heard from before.  But I was most excited to see the three of them together, the three brothers.  What would they bring out in each other that you don't see when it is just one? 

I said hi to Frank and Malachy ahead of time, and gave them the message that an old friend of theirs from their Lions Head Days - drinking days in the Village - was over at the Chinese restaurant.  Frank asked who.  The friend hadn't given his name.  Frank said, “he must be on the run.”

They came out to the stage.  Malachy's hair was a wild jumble as it usually is.  He was wearing white pants, or the palest of khakis, and some white sneakers.  He is no fashion plate.  Frank was wearing super stylish brown leather lace up ankle boots.  I imagined they were very like the shoes he would have worn as a child, when he went to church.  He had on proper khakis and a scarf, and looked quite debonair.  And Alphie was the perfect little brother.  Off to the side, quiet, not getting in the way of his big brothers. 

When they first sat down, the chairs were placed wrong, and only Frank was spotlighted.  Malachy asked if you had to win a Pulitzer to get some light around here.  He thought that winning a Pulitzer and getting rich was reward enough, and he and Alphie deserved some light, at least.  So they decided to make adjustments, and Malachy picked up his own chair and lugged it over to the light.

They began with Alphie reading his description of Limerick from his book (yes!  He wrote a book too!), and the passage was as delightful as anything his brothers have written.  How can it be that the entire family is blessed with the writing gene?  I wondered, for a bit, if it was so good because it was heavily edited by his brothers.  But no, they told us at the end - you do not share a memoir with blood relatives till it is complete.  Till you have the galleys.  Which struck me as awfully good advice.

They said they think Angela's Ashes is criticised in Ireland not because of the abject poverty depicted - that is just the excuse.  They said the truth is that the book is criticised for it's depiction of Angela as a sexual being.  The church is still very powerful in Ireland, and that is the real objection people have to it.  It is hinted at in the book, but not clearly stated (perhaps I just inferred?), that Angela compromised her sexuality for a roof and food for her children. 

All three were baudy throughout - it made me wonder, are they like Shakespeare and Mozart - playing to the bleachers?  All us NPR-listening, reading-going erudites?  And I think the answer is clear - give the audience what they want, no?

Malachy passed off Frank O'Connor's First Confession as his own, and I was very glad he did.  That story makes me laugh till the tears come.  He couldn't keep himself from commenting again on Frank's Pulitzer and ensuing wealth.  Frank just slowly nodded. 

During the question and answer session afterwards, someone asked how Alphie's mother differed from Frank and Malachy's mother (same mother, different life, if you will).  And he said you could not compare his life with Frank and Malachy's because by the time he could remember things, Frank was already in America sending home half his pay, and Malachy soon followed.  So that Alphie was able to go to private school, and his mother was able to pretend she didn't need their money.

I was terribly moved by this, thinking of those two brothers making it possible for their little brothers, and their Mam, to have enough food, and better schooling - a whole different life, as Alphie said.

Afterwards, Alphie talked to me so long that I thought he didn’t realize I had his book for him to sign.  I accidentally looked at the book, which (I think) made him think *I* was in a rush.  I asked if they get on each other’s nerves, or if they have outgrown that.  He said they do, and in fact they do right on stage, and perhaps I had even noticed it.  Which I had, but I wasn’t sure if it was a put on.  And I said that between them, they really make the rest of us feel like there is no point in telling our stories.  He said of course there is, and he signed my book, “Keep punching.”  Which was so appropriate, that I couldn’t figure out how he knew that’s what I feel like right  now.  Like I am punching my way out of a paper bag, to get back the life in me.

So I am reading Alphie McCourt’s A Long Stone’s Throw right now.   And it is a delight.  Three of them DID get his with the writing gene.