THE STORY SO FAR: PART 204

MY STEP-FATHER, ALFRED LYONS—A TRULY MARVELOUS MAN WHO HAD A PROFOUND AND POSITIVE INFLUENCE ON MY LIFE

I have written about Alfred before but, for some reason, couldn’t lay my hands on this photo—my favorite one of him. To be precise, I had it on the computer, but it refused to cut and paste—computers can be obstinate sometimes. Then my sister, Lucy, came up with a version—and here it is.

I was about eight when I heard my mother was getting married again. I took to Alfred immediately and, as the eldest child, made the decision to call him “Daddy” rather than by his name. This was something that I hoped he would appreciate—and I was to learn, over many years, that he did. We became very close.

I had never known my own father so rather the liked idea of having one—someone I could talk to, learn from, and love. In fact, Alfred never quite became a father. Somehow, he stepped back from the role--even where his own children were concerned. My mother was too strong-willed and dominant—and she controlled the money—so Alfred, who was ten years her junior, became more like an extraordinarily talented big brother. He was witty, intelligent, widely read, hugely entertaining—and could seemingly do just about anything. He was an accomplished artist, he had an eye for antiques, he drove superbly, he knew a great deal about the theatre, he was a delightful dinner companion—and so it went for a very long list. He was a deeply cultured man. Did his talent extend to business? Though he certainly understood business, and was tasked with looking after the family money for quite some time,  I suspect not. Fundamentally, Alfred had an artistic temperament.

Women adored him—which did not please my mother. My girlfriends also adored him which did not exactly please me. However, he was such fun that it was hard to take offense—even when he flirted outrageously.

For more than a decade he was a positive influence at home—and then the relationship broke him, as I feared it must.

He died far too young under decidedly unhappy circumstances—and I was absolutely devastated. I found it near impossible to imagine that all that humor, talent and energy was just gone. I was living in my thatched Irish cottage at the time, and recall going into into shock.

I adored and admired the man, and feel fortunate to have known him—albeit for such a relatively short time. I don’t think I have ever met anyone else who encompassed all his talents. Was he flawed? Of course—he was human—and his wit could sometimes be cruel; but the good far outweighed the bad.

One should be able to take death in one’s stride. It is both natural and certain. Nonetheless, I have never been able to become entirely reconciled to the deaths of either my grandmother or Alfred—and the sight of his photo makes my heart ache. Such a loss; such a waste; such a tragedy.

Then I remember the good times—and there were so many—and have to smile. Above all, I associate Alfred with laughter.

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 182

WARRIOR AND SON—STAFF SERGEANT SEAN KEOUGH. A SALUTE TO HIS MOTHER, MRS. KRIS KEOUGH

MY APOLOGIES FOR AN OMISSION

When I wrote about Staff Sergeant Sean Keough’s courage some time back—which resulted in his being awarded a Silver Star—I made a major omission. Sadly, his parents are now divorced, and I forgot to mention his mother. My mistake, and one I regret deeply.

The achievements of a son reflects well on both parents. I was reminded of this truth when his mother, Mrs. Kris Keough, wrote to me to thank me for honoring Sean (whom I have known since he was a difficult teenager). I guess the word “difficult” is redundant in such a contest. Let’s put it this way: He was showing character and promise in his own idiosyncratic way—and he certainly delivered.

I have scant idea how to compensate for my errors in judgment. Arguably, the best thing I can do is repeat his citation. If you think about what was involved, and over such an extended period, his conduct was, indeed, awesome.

Acts of courage are always praiseworthy, and should be admired, but courage over a prolonged period is in a league of its own.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Army Ranger of 2nd Battalion Receives the Silver Star

In a rare public appearance for a tightly-knit special operations unit, awards were presented to members of the 2nd Battalion, 75th Rangers, home based at Joint Base Lewis-McChord in Tacoma, Washington.

One Ranger, Staff Sergeant Sean Keough, received the Silver Star for action against Taliban insurgents during a raid on an enemy compound last autumn.

Leading his squad, Keough saw one of his fellow Rangers shot and fall wounded, still under fire from the enemy. Keough placed himself between the fallen soldier and the enemy, returning fire in order to provide cover for other members of the unit who administered aid and retrieved their downed teammate.

Keough and another Ranger shot an insurgent who attacked them, but he received a gunshot wound to his arm. Despite his wound he remained in place, still delivering effective fire at the enemy while his squad radioed for a medevac.

The attacking force regrouped but Keough refused medical aid that would interfere with his mission, and directed and participated in attacking and overrunning the enemy compound eight hours later. He also received the Purple Heart for his wounds sustained in action against the enemy.

The award was presented by Lieutenant General John F Mulholland, commander of the US Army Special Operations Command. In addition to Keough, the battalion received two Valorous Unit Awards for operations in Iraq and Afghanistan in summer 2005. Seven Rangers received the Bronze Star Medal (‘V’) for actions in combat, and five received the Soldier’s Medal for heroism in a non-combat role for rescuing two stranded climbers on Mount McKinley (Denali) in Alaska, in addition to 17 who received the Purple Heart, among other awards. During this latest deployment, four Rangers and an attached junior officer were killed in action, and many wounded, including 30 as a result of the explosion of an IED.

Since October 2001, the battalion has deployed 14 times and conducted over 2500 raids. It is preparing for its 15th deployment.

Posted by Nicholas Darkwater at 12:09 PM

The figures quoted in this citation are worthy of both consideration and admiration. They reflect an intensity of combat that is practically inconceivable. “14 deployments—2,500 raids?”

Consider the stress and violence of just one.

I am a professional writer, and I just do not have the words to pay adequate tribute to such ongoing courage. Let me salute the entire Keough family.

 

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 171

THIS PHOTO OF MY MOTHER IS SO LIKE MY DAUGHTER, EVIE—AT A COMPARABLE AGE—IT IS REMARKABLE

My much loved sister Lucy keeps on pulling family photos out her mysterious horde—which begs the question as to where they are coming from. I thought I had the main repository—and mine are all in store. Yet Lucy keeps on issuing such photos on Facebook. Time for me to ask, I suspect. Either way, I’m delighted. I had thought some of these were lost.

My mother—an only child—was brought up in Newtown House, Termonfeckin, Co. Loth, Ireland—a place large enough to be an institution. It now is one—and has been so for many decades. It is the headquarters of the Irish Countrywomen’s Association, and seems to be mainly used as a training center. It is now called An Grianan.

An Grianan Adult Education Center (Termonfeckin (Tearmann Feichín))

The ICA purchased what was then known as Newtown House, in trust for the benefit of the people of Ireland. In October 1954 An Grianán was officially opened by the then President of Ireland, Mr. Seán T. O'Kelly. It is now open all year for a wide range of Adult education classes. Open to pubic for visitors. Garden center open.

My mother was educated by French governesses up to her mid teens. My much loved grandmother meant well—such an upbringing was the norm in her privileged world—but the results were disastrous. My mother felt oppressed by the governesses, missed the companionship of other children, and eventually rebelled completely.

When she was old enough, and WW II broke out, she took off for London and enlisted in the WAAF as a radar operator—and otherwise had what they call “a good war.” Men and women lived as if there was no tomorrow, because all too often, there wasn’t. Civilians died in their tens of thousands in the Blitz. Soldiers, sailors and airman died wherever they were sent. It wasn’t called a World War for nothing. They died throughout the globe. Meanwhile, when on leave, they did what young and frightened people do. They threw caution to the winds and sought comfort in each other’s arms.

I was one of the results. I, too, rebelled. It seems to be something of a family tradition. Children are one of life’s greatest pleasures—and worth every second of dedication—but difficult. And they don’t remain children. Such is the nature of the human condition. I don’t expect it to change.