There have been on occasions, references and inferences to the Simple Minds song: "Belfast Child" associated with me. My "Irish"ancestry (on my biological father's side) is shrouded in far more mystery, than what I "know" of it. However having now spent nearly three days in Belfast, for what it's worth, I did sing on the streets today.
The opportunity was presented to me by a hulking story-teller I met in front of my hotel. I was waiting for a new friend, himself a resident of Belfast, to pick me up. He had graciously offered to take me on a "mini-road trip." I was standing waiting and the story-teller who I came to know as "PJ" just appeared. In my previous travels (well actually it can occur most anytime) some rather notable character "just appears." They don't "approach" I don't see them coming, it's a bit like I turn my head one way and then back, and there they are, bigger than life. And then it's on, instantaneous interaction.
I have met a vast amount of the most beautiful souls on this trip already. My heart is full and continues to be engaged in, how to contend with that much love. I suppose that's not actually the truth, more than likely that is no riddle to the heart - it would be the mind that might want to play with the notion. These people have blessed me in ways known and likely in ways, I've yet to discover.
This encounter is distinct in nature. It in no way diminishes the experience and connection with the other folks. This is more an experience that I liken to angelic - I have no idea why, and though as I said earlier, they aren't necessarily limited to times I travel; they do seem to increase in frequency, when I'm away from "home."
"PJ" was a formidable presence. Easily well over six feet tall and rather broad in the beam. He had hands the size of ham hocks, which I observed as his handshake swallowed my hand. They were also very animated, weaving a language of their own, in unison with the oral presentation, of the stories that would unfold.
Now with regard to "PJ's" demeanour, it could be said that he was somewhat inebriated, however I was quickly able to read, that this in no way, posed any sort of threat. This in itself should be a clear indication, that the stage is being set, for some damn fine story telling!
We hit it off immediately. Right from his opening greeting "how ya getting on, kid" (which I did need to ask him to repeat - it took me a moment, to get in sync with his high octane infused lilt). Once the answer to his second question determined me to be from Canada - any pretence of our being strangers was gone - now it's mates, for sure.
"Ah Canada"..... he croons. I'm already thinking, maybe we should start the anthem that way.. he's making it sound pretty good!!!
"Do yeh know, who the best singer/songwriter of all time is ....... he riddles. "I'll give ye, a hint, he's from Canada.
What can I say.... I was in the zone..... "Gordon Lightfoot" was my immediate answer.....
"Ya, yeh got that right.... How the feck' do ye know anythin' 'bout Gordon Lightfoot.....?
At this point I'm thinking, well we're getting on so famously, now doesn't seem the time to mention the scope of my knowledge about Gordon, is rather finite in nature.....
Anyway, I'm elevated to near legendary status for providing the right answer and apparently cued just the right memory reels of his, after which he recounted his experiences at Gordon Lightfoot performances here in Belfast.. Has he been here.....? I don't know.... but his is Gordon (Feckin') Lightfoot, he could have been....
He told me, the disbelief palpable - of the "young people" staying down at the hostel ..... not one of them...... none.... knew who Gordon Lightfoot was!!!!!!
"You just can't educate people with that kind of ignorance...." he says.
Thank God, his line of questioning didn't reveal any of my ignorance. It's not far from the surface and he coulda scratched the top of quite easily... had he decided to be more probing with his questioning....
He told me stories of "Father Flannigan" and "Digger McGee"- both figured to be, something the stature of the biblical Goliath. As I said, "PJ" was no half-pint and he spoke of these characters as if they dwarfed him.
What I can tell you for sure is, "ya don't go feckin' with Father Flannigan!!" He goes on, "I was a wee bit rebellious in my youth......"
Ya don't say, I've heard of those rebellious types (I'm thinking...) doing my best not to tip the hand of my illustrious history.... To no avail - ya can't bullshit a bullshitter........
So he decides, he's going to "smuggle in some cigarettes" in the handlebars of his bicycle.... I suspect I need not tell how that went... Why? Because you don't feck, with Father Flannigan!!!!
"Digger McGee" was apparently someone he fought in his "amateur career," who had hands even bigger than his.... if you can imagine!!
As the story goes, Digger got his name because he used to use those shovel size mitts, to dig potatoes (bare handed) "he used to kick the shit out of me...... every time!"
Except once......
"He turned his head to look at the referee, and while he was distracted..... boom - caught him with a right.... and he went down (wait for it...... "like a sack of spuds.....") ah the poetry of life.....
So after the fight Digger calls "PJ" over and tells him, "it's my treat for dinner.. best meal money can buy....."
And then around we come ... full circle and Gordon Lightfoot is back in the space..... he sings me a couple of abridged clips of "Rainy Day People" and "If You Could Read My Mind....."
"What else did he sing....?" he queries.
"The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" I replied.....
"Ah shit ya.... how does that go?" he asks.
And it happened ... The Belfast Child sung again......
Neither one of us could get a handle on the lyrics ... but we rocked the melody
He gave me a hug that could well double as a chiropractic adjustment and I was strangely moved by the whole experience.....
He asked me if I had a couple of quid "for a cider or something, to get me through until 3:00....."
I said, "now then, this won't bring about your untimely demise will it .... I couldn't have that on my shoulders....
"Kid" he says, I'm a hard-core alcoholic .... ain't no harm goin' to come my way.....
Those stories and this guy, pure gold..... worth two/three quid easy....
Just then my friend arrived... we were off to "Giant's Causeway....."
A fitting destination, considering my time spent with a giant of a man, with a heart and story's to match....
Unforgettable! Bless you P.J.
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