‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ introduced Motor Neurone Disease to my consciousness. It may have been heard previously. Lou Gehrig disease does not sound as bad but that is only semantics.
My sister, younger by two years, has a better memory than me in some regards as she can remember me waking her up while our parents and siblings slept and insisting that we get ready for school. As my younger brother is two
years younger and did nor partake in this, it puts my sister at a maximum of six and me at eight.
We got dressed and headed off to school only to discover that the school gates were still closed and we waited for them to open .If decades later, my parents may have been under investigation.
St. Patrick’s Boys National School was my centre of learning. In my class there were two boys called Jimmy Sullivan. As we progressed, based upon their educational excellences, they were differentiated as Irish Jimmy and Maths Jimmy.
Irish Jimmy went on to take over his father, Tommy’s, barber business on Coburg St., and did the needful on my scalp more than once or twice. I took the photographs some months ago in preparation of the day when the building would be sold and the expectation that whatever may be on the shopfront, that it would always be a reminder of Jimmy to me.
I still remember Jimmy’s happiness with being able to attend the Munster v All Blacks match at the new Thomond Park with his son. Back then before any diagnosis, and with my child much younger, it brought home to me the joy of joint experiences with one’s child.
A few years later, Jimmy was diagnosed with MND.
With news of the passing of Colm Murray today, I am reminded of Jimmy and that we are only here once, so we best make the most of it.
My sister, younger by two years, has a better memory than me in some regards as she can remember me waking her up while our parents and siblings slept and insisting that we get ready for school. As my younger brother is two
years younger and did nor partake in this, it puts my sister at a maximum of six and me at eight.
We got dressed and headed off to school only to discover that the school gates were still closed and we waited for them to open .If decades later, my parents may have been under investigation.
St. Patrick’s Boys National School was my centre of learning. In my class there were two boys called Jimmy Sullivan. As we progressed, based upon their educational excellences, they were differentiated as Irish Jimmy and Maths Jimmy.
Irish Jimmy went on to take over his father, Tommy’s, barber business on Coburg St., and did the needful on my scalp more than once or twice. I took the photographs some months ago in preparation of the day when the building would be sold and the expectation that whatever may be on the shopfront, that it would always be a reminder of Jimmy to me.
I still remember Jimmy’s happiness with being able to attend the Munster v All Blacks match at the new Thomond Park with his son. Back then before any diagnosis, and with my child much younger, it brought home to me the joy of joint experiences with one’s child.
A few years later, Jimmy was diagnosed with MND.
With news of the passing of Colm Murray today, I am reminded of Jimmy and that we are only here once, so we best make the most of it.
