Aunt Rosie

     Known to us all as Aunt Rosie, she ruled the household and our town from her feather bed. Through her bedroom window she watched the comings and goings on each side of the street. She could see the church across the road too and she kept tabs on those who did or did not attend to their religious duties. She knew that Maisie O'Brien would marry Henry Daly before Maisie knew this herself. She also revealed to her daughter that Maisie was pregnant!

     When Aunt Rosie saw Peter O'Brien topple from his bicycle and the neighbours running to help him she knew that he'd never rise again. She told my Mother this and she also told her that the guards had taken Mikey Finnerty away because he'd been drinking and singing in the street. 'They should have left the poor creature alone,' she said, 'he's a great singer.'

     Sometimes I went into the house to talk to Aunt Rosie. 'You won't believe this,' she laughed 'but I watched Maggie O'Rourke's dog chasing the new curate up the driveway this morning. The young man was terrified.' When the curate came to our house to introduce himself, I told him that next time he was chased by a dog, he mustn't run. He should face the dog and if it jumped up he must give it a good knee right into it's doodle. The curate's face turned bright red.' It's her word for stomach' Mammy explained, before asking him if he was beginning go to feel at home yet.

   Small children and big ones too were very careful to behave when passing Aunt Rosie's house. When Jimmy Riley, who should have been at home studying for his exams, got carried away and kissed Irene Martin in Dooley's doorway, she saw them. From her vantage point she shone her torch (for emergency use only) in their direction. Jimmy waved towards the window and Aunt Rosie surprised his puzzled mother by saying that she found Jimmy to be 'quite the little Romeo!'

   Aunt Rosie had a little brass bell on her bedside table. Whenever she needed her pillows fixed or a cup of tea or a chat she'd ring the bell. Her daughter Bridie would do her bidding unless a visiting neighbour, knowing how hard Bridie worked said, 'here let me see to her.'

   'She'll be the death of me yet,' I overheard Bridie saying to Mammy. 'I know she's my mother and all that but my God you should see what she drops under the bed. I have to get down on my knees every night to retrieve her rosary beads and God only knows what else.'

I wrote a poem about this:

Feathers, fluff, crab apple core,
a sagging spring, wooden floor
One shiny penny, soft leather purse,
bits of lace, hair comb and worse--
A long lost hankie, crusts of bread,
underneath Aunt Rosie's bed.
And there she sits atop all that--
wearing feather boa and Grandpa's hat


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