WordSmith: My very own superhero on superhero-street
Read all about Gerard Smith's first encounter with somebody with 'the cure' for something...
It was Sunday afternoon and I’d just finished my dinner. Mam was sitting in her corner, cigarette in hand, watching the afternoon film, when we were both jolted by a ‘knock’ at the door. It was less a knock and more an urgent rap, prompting Mam to stub out her cigarette and sit upright, “Who could that be?”
The second ‘knock’ was louder and more prolonged, Mam craned her neck towards the window, a look of annoyance on her face, “Go and answer that,” she said. I raced to the door worried the next ‘knock’ might take it off its hinges.
I opened the door to a stranger, a woman, ready to strike our door, again. When she saw me she lowered her arm; I noted a strained look on her face, which worried me “Is your mother home?” she asked. Instinctively wanting to protect Mam from any impending confrontation with an irate adversary, I asked, “What do you want her for?”
It was only then I noticed she wasn’t alone; standing next to her was a lad about my age. I stared at him, looking for recognition in his face, I saw none. Since my return to Cavan I’d struggled to fit into school, and hadn’t made any friends; I wondered if Mam had resorted to renting me one (which wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility).
The mother seemed nervy, “Go and get your mother for me, there’s a good gossan,” she said. I went back to a curious looking Mam, “Who is it?” she asked. My sense of unease heightened as I answered, “A woman and a lad.”
Mam remained seated, “What do they want?” I could hear Mam’s shackles start to rattle, never a good sign. When I shrugged my shoulders, she headed for the door, “What are they annoying us on a Sunday afternoon for?” she admonished.
Scared a situation was simmering, I stood by the door to listen in – “What is it?” asked Mam, curtly.
The woman spoke, “Are you Kathleen Smith, recently home from England?” The forensic tone to her question made my heart quicken. Mam snapped, “I am, what’s it to you?” The woman continued her line of questioning, “Do you have relatives beyond, in Crosserlough?” There was a pause, before Mam answered with concern, “I do, are they alright?” I edged closer, was a funeral on the horizon?
The woman’s voice lifted, “They’re all grand; your aunt told me you’re a Smith who married a Smith.” Mam’s tone softened, “I am,” she said. This was my cue to join her at the door. The woman smiled at the sight of me, “You have a gossan the same age as mine.” She edged the lad forward, “He has the whooping-cough, and you have the cure so you do.” She placed her hand on her son’s head, “Would you please give him the cure, Mrs Smith.”
Mam went into the house, leaving me alone, confused and awkward at the door; I noted the lad did look sick. When Mam returned she did an astonishing thing, she blessed herself then gave the lad a biscuit! I looked at her with bewilderment; she wasn’t a particularly religious woman; yet here she was blessing a biscuit to cure a sick boy!
There followed light-hearted banter at the door, but it was all a blur to me, because I was reeling from the realisation that my mother had a super-power she’d kept hidden from me.
Back inside Mam returned to her film. “Why didn’t you tell me you could cure people?” I asked. She replied, “I didn’t know I could, till yer-woman told me so,” as blasé as can be. She chuckled, lit a cigarette and said, “Now don’t you be annoying me, I want to get finishing this film.”
That evening alone in my room I revelled in the revelation that my mother was part of an elite-group of people, imbued with healing powers. For I knew of another woman on our street who had the curative-power. In Mam, I had my very own superhero on superhero-street.
Weeks later I thought I was dying, I could barely breathe. But there was no blessed-biscuit for me. Mam called the doctor who diagnosed ‘Pleurisy.’ After a painful jab in the backside, I learned of the pragmatic power in penicillin.
That said, I won’t ‘knock’ the-cure, for we must take comfort and healing wherever we find it – a sentiment that’s right up my street.
READ MORE