The 'Streets of London' concert in Dublin next week should remind us all of our responsibilities to our elderly emigrants abroad, writes Patsy McGarry.Rite and Reason
His name was Ted. It seemed like a nickname that stuck. Not that it mattered. Everyone called him Ted and he didn't mind.
Not much seemed to bother Ted. From the west of Ireland, by then he must have been in England over 30 years. And there he'd be on the site every morning stuffing wads of huge bacon sandwiches into his mouth as he drank tea by the gallon in the rough-and-ready canteen.
He was not so much slaking a thirst as managing another deadly hangover, his head covered in a greying handkerchief knotted at the ends, shirt frequently open to the navel. Then it was summertime. Everyone liked him. He had an amiable insult for all. His life was simple, work - and he was a good worker - the pub, a bed, and work. Nothing else. He seemed to have lost all contact with his family in Ireland, though obsessed with what was going on at home, especially football.
A very young 19-year-old I ended up working on the same site as him for a summer in London during the 70s, to help pay for my university education. He took me under his wing, which wasn't always comfortable, especially when it came to drink. He wasn't so much a man as a giant in capacity, and I was a neophyte of the thimbleful variety. He made allowances.
But always, and especially on those Fridays when we all went to the pub with our wage packets, he wouldn't let me put a hand in my pocket. "Keep it for your education," he would say, as I sweltered under his sometimes oppressive generosity.
The truth was he was proud of me. I was from the west too, I was going to university and I wasn't too grand to work on a building site with the likes of him. He saw in me a new generation of Irish who were taking advantage of opportunities which were never remotely possible for his.
He was my benefactor that summer, which included guiding me away from jobs impossible for a youngster through words in the foreman's ear - something I silently resented at times out of a macho innocence.
Twice in recent years I have been forced to think particularly of what became of Ted, because his destiny seemed laid out even then. Though most likely long since dead, I dread to think what his final circumstances were.
There was the superb if harrowing RTÉ Prime Time documentary on the plight of elderly Irish emigrants in the UK, broadcast last December, which made me feel ashamed both personally and as an Irishman that more has not been done for our own people estranged abroad and living in destitution. People whose remittances to an earlier generation kept us all going.
And then there was the time when I heard the story which inspired Brian Friel to write his wonderful play Dancing at Lúghnasa. It seems that one evening he and fellow playwright Tom Kilroy were walking along London's Embankment when Tom Kilroy remarked on the number of Irish accents among the homeless people there. Brian Friel replied his two aunts had died like that, homeless in London after fleeing poverty in Donegal.
We have only some idea how our earlier exiled generations suffered but now we cannot deny, thanks in the main to Prime Time, what survivors are going through. We should also be aware of the great people and agencies who have helped our emigrants down the years and continue to do so, often while the rest of us could not or would not. To the forefront among them - and let it be gratefully acknowledged in these, its darkest days - has always been the Irish Catholic Church.
One such agency is the Aisling Return to Ireland Project, based in London (www.aisling.org.uk). It rescues elderly Irish emigrants from sometimes appalling circumstances and has helped some resettle in Ireland. Others it brings on holidays here. It has reunited families, as many emigrants had lost all contact with relatives in Ireland, and it has helped others with severe homelessness and alcohol problems.
The project is small and unsung with just one employee who is based at its office in London. All the rest of its work is done by volunteers while funding is raised by events usually headlined by Aisling's chief patron, comedian Ardal O'Hanlon. Tommy Tiernan and Graham Norton have also been involved.
The first such event in Dublin - the "Streets of London" concert - will take place at Vicar Street on Tuesday December 7th, at 8 p.m. Performing will be Lúnasa, Altan, Karan Casey and other guests.
The event is being organised by a good friend and namesake Seán McGarry and his nephew Seán Smyth of Lúnasa. Tickets from Ticketmaster cost €20. It would hardly buy a round. For Ted's sake, and all surviving Teds' sakes, please be there.
Patsy McGarry is Religious Affairs Correspondent of The Irish Times