I asked him why he had no name many times and what I found out was very interesting. He told me that when he was born he was given a name, but it was just a title and a means of identification. He was of many names and ancestors and he was in fact many people. His ancestors were once fierce barbarians, pagans and then became Christians. In fact he revealed, it is a miracle to be born and live.
He was born and raised in “America” which in the twists of fate almost wasn’t. His Father inherited the family farm in their native land and ancestral home. This is were he would have grown or perhaps died.
The will, rightfully so, was challenged though and the oldest proper “Brother” reaped and then died of this land. This property was once a very sacred place in it’s community and family. On it sits a “Mass Rock,” and today it is hidden in the archives of the past and is almost forgotten.
He has horses but they are “Modern Technological Marvels!” He has had several since he was young and some have perished with time. As he explained to me his “Gaelic” title means “Horseman” and because of his ignorance found it hard to pronounce. He as was his Grandfather, Michael fancies himself as an “Expert Horseman.” His though are “Fire Breathing Beasts,” containing the souls of the humans who created them, like his Grandfather a specific steed for varying tasks.
There is a story of his Great Grandfather, Michael’s three brothers traveling toAmericaand disappearing without a trace. Also, he was working inBelmontParkin his carpentry days, installing a plaque before the “Stakes.” As fate would intervene he met a very “Famous Horse Trainer” who shared the same title. After this meeting he felt this man was definitely a lost cousin.
One time while working and living in Bridgehampton, he took a ride on his prized yellow “gelding,” to hone his riding skills. Fate again, struck the man with no name and he came upon an entourage of people. He met the man who owned, a historic, beautiful property and they conversed. Then he struck out on a rail and smiled with delight. As time passed, he found out the fate of this meeting, which came to him in the wind and is now part of an “unknown” in history.
Finally, I begged him, please tell me who you are! His response elated, puzzled and baffled me. He told me he goes by the name Jim but it is really “Jimmy!” That Pete in his vision and story was very close and only the name was slightly off. Then he rode off into the sunset, leaving and telling me one last thing. Likewise when he was a kid, stood like a statue, could not hear buzzers & bells or see lights flashing. Became part of the machine, played a silver ball, had a subtle wrist and sure played a mean “pinball!”
Author & Poet – Jim McGaughey 4/25-26 2012
Epilogue- This story is a “prelude” of my current work and my first book, which I hopefully will finish soon. In a short story there is no “preface’ so I will explain several things here. This story style is meant to invoke your thought, raise questions and hopefully a smile or a laugh. It is a glance by myself of my own perspective.
My Mother in Law Madeline is the only daughter of “Joe & Gerty.”
The “Modern Technological Marvels” I referred to are motorcycles and have the spirit of many “Ponies and Men.”
The “Famous Horse Trainer” I met atBelmontParkand chatted with, who my Uncle Johnny also once met, was “Shug McGaughey.” The place in Bridgehampton I lived and worked for was the “Atlantic Golf Club, where I was fortunate to find a role in it’s creation. The man I conversed with in the “Hills of Bridgehampton” was Mr. Rubin, who owned the “Bridgehampton Racetrack” and now current “Golf at the Bridge.”
Finally, “Pete” who I refer to is the legendary musical artist, writer and leader of the Who, Pete Townsend. He was the creator of an incredible story and adventure named, “Tommy.” I started playing pinball in a smallBronxneighborhood pizzeria. This historic area by Parkchester is now known as “StrattonPark.”