Lottery
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“Oh, I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid
I remember that time you told me
You said, "Love is touching souls"
Surely you touched mine
'Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time”
Joni Mitchell
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Whenever the lottery jackpot gets big, I buy a ticket. This is remarkably restrained for me, as I used to buy lottery tickets religiously, sure in the knowledge that The Universe would surely nudge the odds in my favour , safe in the knowledge that I would do good things. The ‘Lotto’ started in Ireland in April 1988 , they’d been selling scratch cards for a while, but that April saw the first national lottery draw, with a jackpot of ￡147k , which was enough to buy three and a bit houses, or seven brand new BMW 3 series cars, a year’s residency in the Shelbourne Hotel’s penthouse suite, or 588,000 packets of Tayto cheese and onion crisps.
“How many bottles of Rioja could you have bought ?”
I have no idea, no one drank red wine in Ireland in 1988, the sophisticates among us drank Black Tower or Blue Nun…but only when having a dinner party..with lasagne..and your parents and their friends were actually having the dinner party and you were swigging whatever was left in the glasses on the way to the kitchen.
After we’d bought our first house , a lovely three bedroomed semi-detached house in a new housing estate in Kildare, and the lottery jackpot was over a million, I thought that if I won it I’d buy the house attached to ours, knock through and just have a bigger house exactly where we were. I had no dreams or intentions of living anywhere other than that first house where we had neighbours like Paddy and Barbara, lived near Baz and Karen, and where Jake was born. We had our first Christmas together on our own in that house. I never imagined living anywhere else.
And then roads diverge in snowy woods and we moved to Belfast. We had a smaller house in Upper Malone Gardens, I cycled to work along the Lagan to work in an old Harland & Wolff warehouse on Queen’s Island, our friends knew everyone, and Belfast was emerging from the co coon of the Troubles and we got to see the butterfly unfurl her very delicate wings. We had a ball ! New bars, restaurants and clubs opened every few weeks, and being buddies with Jim and Talat got us in by default. Robyn and Elliott were born in Belfast. We dreamed of a bigger house , we were looking at enrolling Jake in an integrated school, and life changed again.
We moved back to Monaghan.
We bought a house outside the village I grew up in.
Our new neighbours called after mass to visit on the very first weekend after we moved in. That was twenty years ago. Our kids have grown up with their kids. We used to have regular dinners together and chat about their schools, their friends , their sports clubs, our mutual neighbours, the parish , and life in general. As our lives and commitments ebb and flow we can see each other a lot , or not at all for weeks or months. We’ve shared First Holy Communions, Confirmations, Deb’s Balls, 18ths, 21st’s, funerals, and weddings.
Today , while out running with one of my best friends , I got a phone call about a writing project that was well reasoned, well critiqued, well meant and , well …felt like a kick in the nuts. Every criticism was understandable, justified , politely explained and done in a friendly manner. But when you’ve been kicked in the nuts , understandably , justifiably , and in a friendly manner, you’ve still been kicked in the nuts.
So, yes, I was feeling especially sorry for myself, and then , while moodily driving back to work after lunch, Kieran, the aforementioned neighbour, waves me down as I’m passing his yard and says he and Hilda are taking my Soulmate and I out for dinner tonight simply because it’s Thursday and it’s been overdue.
We’ve just had dinner in The Pig.
We chatted about our awesome children, and their ever-expanding horizons and dreams, and …well we did laugh, a lot, we relaxed, we are friends and fellow travellers. We didn’t have to be ‘on form’ , or our best, because we all know the worst and Sunday best of each other.
Lottery jackpots grow exponentially but I think my dreams have inversely become clearer rather than smaller.
If , in 1988? I’d won that first lotto , and gone away for a week or two before claiming my? win , and some mystical figure had met me in a dream and said “ Instead of that ticket I’ll let you live a life together with your Soulmate , with three wildly creative kids, and possibly a cat or two, in a house in the country, with the best neighbours ever who love Country & Irish muzak , within running distance of an amazing park where you’ll create Giants, and your brothers, their families and your folks would live close by…and your running partner owns a pub.” ,would I have said yes ?
In 1988 , being a 22 year , hocked up on Holsten Pils in the video bar in the Westenra’s lounge , I may have queried if it couldn’t have been a chocolate brown Labrador instead of a cat, and if the neighbours loved U2 and Simple Minds instead, and when told ‘No !’ I’d still ?have said ‘YES !!!’
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Sometime before Easter in 1984 I was chatting to my friend Eileen on the phone and , as giddy teenagers do , started talking about people we fancied and I, being coy , and in my head , incredibly clever, said? “ I fancy …”
“Who ??” Eileen asked excitedly.
“Can’t say.”
“Give me a hint.”
“The 21st letter of the alphabet.”
“A,B,….M,N,…S,T…U !!!”
“Yes !”
“Una McMahon ??? WooHoo !!”
“NO !!! NO!!”
“You don’t like Una ?”
“I do.”
“ Paul and Una in a tree , K.I.S.S. ing…”
“NO !”
“What ?”
“ The 21st letter of the alphabet is ?”
“A,B,….M,N,…S,T…U ?”
“You mean…”
“YOU !”
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That was the first day I won the lottery.
Or one of the first days.
Being born on Market St in Dundalk to loving parents, having two stonkingly brilliant brothers, moving to Monaghan, having Brother McCabe as a teacher in 4th class, having Fintan, John, Mark, Michael, Ronan, Milo, Cyril, Looby,? another Fintan, and a Shane as school /lifelong friends. Our neighbours having older kids and a godson called Adrian, introducing me to coolness.
There are too many twists and turns of fate to think of…but being adopted by the McCormick family, discovering The Bursted Sofa bar, and Barney McElroys, despite never attending the Royal College of Surgeons as an actual student, attending their graduation ball , joining the Holy Ghosts, leaving the Holy Ghosts, leaping into the void of commission sales and landing on Skechers, failing, falling, starting again, and again, and in the depths of everything , realising that other than the friends, and the memories of times spent with them, none of it really mattered, and did, at the same time.
I remember the first time someone told me that a girl fancied me.
I won the lottery that day.
It turned out that he’d mixed me up with another Paul in our class … which was crushing, and longer lasting, but I do remember that brief moment of early, misplaced teenage joy.
I’ve just deleted a string of things that also were lottery wins, because no one of them would materially be better than the other.
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I’m a lottery winner.
Most days.
Today I went to work with my brothers and my friends, I went for a run with Santa, I had lunch with Tuna ( our cat), and I had dinner with my Soulmate and our dearest friends/neighbours in a bar owned by another best friend.
I’m a lottery winner.
Toodles,
Paul
P.S. This is gorgeous, like you.
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