The purpose of Poetslife is to promote the art and discipline of American Tactical Civil Defense for families and small businesses and to contribute practical American civil defense preparedness guidance for all Americans through my articles in the The American Civil Defense Association (TACDA.ORG) Journal of Civil Defense and leadership as the volunteer Vice President of TACDA.

8/08/2019

Learning to Believe in Fairy Forts

In the summer of 1975 I hitchhiked through Ireland for 3 weeks on $78.00. I stayed at youth hostels. I wrote this story when I returned. In June of 2019 I went back to Ireland with my family. I rediscovered this story story when I returned. I'll let you determine if this story really happened.

Mr. Finneran was a short man with thick shoulders and large calloused hands from decades of farming. I first met him in Glanmire, Ireland in 1975 when I stayed at the Irish youth hostel he ran.
When I arrived at his hostel, I put my backpack upstairs near my bunk and headed downstairs for a meal. I had walked over fifteen miles that day. Every muscle was screaming for food and drink and then to rest.
The hostel had plenty of foot and drink, but the deep rest I needed would escape me that night.
When I walked into the kitchen, Mr. Finneran was telling a saying to a German family.
″If there is a tree in the middle of a field, you’d best leave it be, for faires live there.″
The father of the German family replied, ″Augh,...surely you don’t expect me to Believe zat one, heah? You Irish tell zum pretty tall tales but zat one is zee best I’ve heard yet?″
Mr. Finneran contained.
″ When we told the same fact to the American businessman who was here last year trying to set up a factory, he laughed the same way ya are right now. But after the fairies were done with him and his family, they didn’t laugh.″
The German winked at his two sons and smiled to his wife and laughed.
My plate of stew, milk, dark bread, butter, biscuits and pudding arrived. I was famished, and sat at Mr. Finneran’s table and began to eat.
Mr. Finneran stared at the Germans and went on.
″That American businessman came here hoping to build some kind of factory. Well, he hired a number of the local boys to operate the tractors he brought in from Dublin. He told them where to start. And where was that?″
″Nothing less than a fairy fort, bigger than any tree in this area, right in the middle of a fine field, sitting right over the very spot where the American businessman thinks he’s going to build a factory.″
″Being smart boys, they knew better than to destroy the home of the fairies and bring a curse down on them and their families. So, naturally, they refused to cut down the tree and told the American so.″
I was half way through my stew and bread and enjoying his story more and more.
But the Germans, to judge by their facial expessions to each other, were skeptical.
Mr. Finneran continued.
″When the boys told the American businessman that they weren’t about to touch a fairy fort. The American businessman starts laughing like some of you are laughing at me right now.″
″Then he says, ‶You people need a lesson in reality!″″
″He jumps on one of the big Ford tractors he brought down from Dublin, starts it up, and starts to head righ for the tree.″
″The boys all began to walk away because they did not want any part of it.″
″Not the American businessman. He heads right for the fairies home, laughing as he does so. He’s calling to the boys they they’re superstitious. He strikes the tree, backs up, and strikes it again.“
″It took him just minutes to push over the fairy fort tree and rip it out by its roots. Well, once he gets done he drives over to Flanagan’s where he knew the boys would be having a pint. He offered to pay for the next round, but the boys all turned their backs to him. They knew what was about to happen, and they didn’t want to be near him.″
″He had a few and got very loose with his tongue. He called the boys backwards and in-bred for 15 generations but the boys just ignored him. They knew he was a condemned man.″
″Will you have some tea, Mr. O‘Brien?″
I looked up to see Mrs. Finneran holding a pot of tea over my mug.
″Please. Thank you very much Mrs. Finneran.″
″And scones, cream and sugar too? ″
″Yes. Thank you. ″ I answered.
Like most hostel keepers in Ireland, she knew, as did Mr. Finneran, that their income was directly tied to the tourist traffic. She provided much warm hospitality and fine and ample food and drink. This national character trait of the Irish ensures that Ireland will never lack for tourists.
She shot Mr. Finneran a look that may have meant for the story to end, but with my interest and the interest of the German family and the others peaked, Mr. Finneran continued.
″One of the boys tried to tell him that if he knew what it was that was good for him, he would go and see Father Ruane and get his help as quick as possible. But the American businessman kept laughing at the boys. He said that he didn’t need a priest to help him build his factory. He said he didn’t try to save souls and the didn’t expect a priest to help him build his factory.″
Mr. Finneran took the measure of his audience. He noticed that the whole room was listening and went on.
″He said that we know more ways of avoiding work than any race of people. He said that he had done business all over the world in some of the most backward corners on earth and had never encountered something as funny as fairy forts.″
Then he added, ″Why I just can’t wait to get back to the States and tell them this one. I’ll have people laughing their asses off for hours. Then he started laughing even louder and said his sides were going to split.″
″The boys had enough and a few wanted to give the Yank a thrashing. I spoke up and said to them, ″Boys, just ignore him. The fairies will settle with him. May God have mercy on this poor American.″″
″The American businessman starts mocking me with, ″May God have mercy on his soul! That’s rich! That’s just great! They all believe this fairy fort nonsense. I’ve got to leave before my sides split.″″
″This same American businessman had bought one of the ruins when he arrived. He bought one of the biggest castles and fixed it up for his wife and two girls and a dog...at least until when he destroyed the fairy fort.‶
Mr. Finneran knew he had the audience with that last line. He was skilled at pulling you in little by little and I found myself listening with the rest, despite how tired I was.
″Now you would think that when the thought about taking down that fairy fort that if he didn’t have any regard for his own head that he would have at least thought of his beautiful American wife, for that everyone agreed she was. His two golden-haired girls were a sweet as any children. Sad to say, but true nonetheless, the fairies killed his daughters first because they knew it would torture his heart, and it did.‶
″The very afternoon of the morning he felled the tree, his girls were down on the beach with their dog playing. The dog runs into the water and the girls go in after the dog. Well, the fairies got their revenge when all three drowned.‶
″The American businessman’s wife had been watching the children from her kitchen window. When she saw them run into the water after the dog she ran into the water after them. As the undertow in that area is very strong, which the fairies must have known, they chose that way to be rid of the American businessman’s family before they got rid of him.‶
″It was an hour later he returned to his castle. People who heard him calling out for his wife and daughters say it took him only a short time to find them all washed up on the beach. When he did they say his wailing could be heard all the way to Westport.‶
″Many of us went over to help but we knew the fairies wouldn’t stop until they also had his home as he had taken theirs. That’s the way it has always been. If you...‶
Mrs. Finneran interrupted him. ″That’s enough of that story Mr. Finneran. Let these people get some rest.‶
Mr. Finneran continued.
″Well...as you can imagine, the American businessman was beside himself with grief. He tried to pick up the bodies of his daughters and his wife to get them back to his castle. As he did, he noticed that were breathing. Because he had never delt with the fairies, he had the mistaken notion they might live. We, of course, knew the fairies were just prolonging his agony in a way only they can do.‶
″Sure enough, they died right there in his arms. With the roads out here and the distance to his castle, it took the emergency services some time to arrive. They confirmed the death of all three. At this point the American businessman wailed and wailed, and at that point I did feel for him. But all I could do at that point was to pray for him and his deceased family.‶
From the  corner of my eye, I saw a mother with four little ones was tearing up.
″But the last day the American businessman was alive was the saddest day I can remember, and I’m old enough and Irish enough to remember some very sad days.‶
″He ran about the town that day begging people for what to do. He went down to the beach where the fairies originally tricked the dog to go into the sea. Without hesitation he went into the waves, the pain of living without his daughters and wives too great for him to bear. As he did, the front door of his castle closed. No one has bothered the fairies who live there since.
″So that’s the story of the fairy fort.‶
Mr. Finneran looked about to see what impact his story had on his visitors. The German father was the first to speak.
″Zat is a very, very guud story. Zank you for a very good story, Mr. Finneran. Now Jorge und Hans und Beatrice and I must zay guud night.‶
Then he joined the others who were quietly shuffling out of the kitchen to the bunks upstairs.
Mrs. Finneran shot Mr. Finneran a scolding look. He smiled back impishly at her, making it obvious that this was neither the first nor last time he would disobey her.
Mr. Finneran broke off his look with his wife and stared at me.
″Well, you’re an American. What do you think of my story about the American businessman?‶
I was tired from my long walk that day and looking forward to sleep, and I gave him a less than courteous reply.
″I think that in your mind you believe it and so for you it is true. Being American myself, I have to wonder if you used an American as the protagonist. Had there been more American’s in your audience, maybe the protagonist would have been German. So, I appreciate the tale, but no, I don’t believe it really happened. Good night, Mr. Finneran.‶
            Bone tired, I walked up to the second floor. When I entered my bunk room, I noticed the backpack I had put on my bunk had been moved to the floor. Odd. I grabbed my toiletry bag from my backpack and headed for the shower.
            Despite only cold water being available, the shower was a piece of heaven. When I began to shave, I noticed that Mr. Finneran had entered the bathroom. His look was hard and angry.
            ″Since you didn’t like my fairy fort story much, I have another one for you. One day not long ago this American student was downstairs in the kitchen going on and on about how he thought the time for the IRA had long passed. I told him he should keep his thoughts to himself, but he kept running his mouth.‶
            ″Later that night he went to O’Shannesey’s down the street. He returned with a bruised face and blood dripping all over his nice American clothes. Turns out one of the boys who was hiding at the castle in the story was at the pub and didn’t appreciate the American’s views.‶
            ″Wait a minute, Mr. Finneran. Are you talking about the same castle in your story?
            ″What if it is? The locals know better than to go where they don’t belong. But sometimes some tourists like you pokes around where he don’t belong. You’ve no plans to see our castle, boyo, do you?‶
His eyes narrowed to slits and he placed a knurled hand, strong for a man half his age, on my arm.
            ″Of course you won’t. You might want to hold your tongue when your in another’s country. St. James teaches us that the tongue is the rudder of the soul. Don’t be a disrespectful American. The other Yank met up with some fairies in the middle of the night and that didn’t go well for him. I’ll expect prompt payment from you tomorrow early. Oh, and son, watch your back.‶
            After Mr. Finneran left, I tried to process what he had said, but the fatigue of the day was catching up with me and I headed for my bunk.
            I put my things away and collapsed into the bunk. As I laid my head down on the pillow, I felt a sharp jab at the base of my skull. I lifted my head and suddenly became aware of a large figure next to me.
            He removed whatever had jabbed me in the back of my skull and placed it under the pillow on the top bunk. As he did, he kept a muscular hand on my throat. Even if I had tried to yell, he made sure that my throat had neither the oxygen or available vocal cords to do so. Given my vulnerable position, it was impossible to fight him off as he had me immobilized and held the advantage.
            He brought his mouth to my ear and I noted he was wearing a black ski mask. I could hear his breathing and smell the beer on his breath. When he was sure I wasn’t moving, he began to whisper in my ear.
            ″You should always make sure you are in the right bed. Otherwise you could find something that is none of your business.″
I had traveled through the North and I recognized that he had an Ulster accent.
            ″Your bunk should have been the top one, Yank, but that’s no difference now. I happen to be passing by the kitchen when I heard the way you addressed Mr. Finneran. He was trying to clue you in that Yank‵,s can disappear here. You don’t want to disappear, do ya Yank?“
            I shook my head no with what little latitude of movement I had.
            ″And I’ll thank you to treat Mr. Finneran with the respect a man who has done so much for the cause deserves. You owe him an apology. Mind your manners and you’ll enjoy being with your grandchildren someday, eh?“
            I nodded yes.
            He released my throat and my head fell back on the pillow. I was so grateful to be breathing and that my neck was not broken that I barely noticed how sore my throat muscles were until I tried to move my head.
            The next morning when I awoke I noticed there was no slump in the bunk above me. As I cautiously worked my way out of my bunk and looked around, I saw no trace of the large figure from the night before.
            It was all so strange that it occurred to me briefly, as I packed up my backpack, that perhaps it had all been a dream. The soreness of my throat muscles told me otherwise.
            I picked up my backpack and went downstairs.
Mr. Finneran was sitting in the chair where he told his story the night before. His panther gaze locked on me and he watched me carefully as I approached him.
            ″Mr Finneran, I’m sorry for the disrespectful way I spoke to you last night. I’m nineteen and in college and think I know a lot more than I do sometimes. I hope you will forgive my rudeness last night. I’m very sorry for everything I said and for being disrespectful to you.“
            His gaze grew softer and he answered.
″It was nothing, son. But in the future, be more careful about what you say and who you say it to. All is forgiven and today is a brand new day in God’s good creation.‶
            A gleam came to his eyes as he said this.
            I was obviously not he only person whose opinions he had changed over the years.
            ″I wish you could have been here to meet my grandson,‶ he said.
            ″He looks like you, only a bit bigger I’d say. It’s ever surprised me the way the Irish from America look like our boys here, but that’s to be expected I guess.‶
            ″I hear told this morning that he was here but I did not get to see him. His business keeps him on the move often.‶
            ″He spent part of his youth across the water. ‵Tis not often I get a chance to talk with him, though Ireland being a small country word always reaches me about how he’s doing. He took a liking to fairy fort stories himself when he was a wee one, and he’s never tired of hearing about them since that time.‶
            As he said that, he winked at me mischievously.
            ″Well, I best be tending to the animals now. Say hello to all the Irish in America for me when you return, and enjoy the rest of your holiday.‶
            After Mr. Finneran said this, he went across the kitchen and exchanged a few words with a large man who was sitting there drinking coffee and reading the local newspaper.
Although the rest of the kitchen was crowded with tourists, this man’s table was empty but for him. After Mr. Finneran finished talking to him and left, the man got up from his table and walked over to me.
            ″Mr. Finneran tells me you’re an American. I hope you’re having a good time in Ireland. ‵Tis terrible the way the Troubles have been scaring visitors away these past few years. As you yourself can see, Ireland is more peaceful than most countries. Safer than America, actually. Must be all those fairy forts protecting our people, eh?‶
            His eyes smiled, and I saw that same black liquid pool in them that I had seen up close the night before. Although I may have been risking my life to ask it, I had to know if he was the same person who had his hand on my throat last night.
            ″How do you know I’m an American?‶
            ″What?″ He looked perplexed.
            ″You just indicated that I come from America. How do you know that?‶
            ″Your sneakers. Only an American would wear those sneakers.‶
            A huge smile moved across the map of his face. It was the smile of a man who knew when his lies were good enough to be defended if challenged, the lie of a man who know how to tell a lie on demand.
            ″I’ve got to see some business associates. Hope you have a fine stay. Remember to speak of us kindly in America.‶
            He held out his beefy hand. I took it cautiously. He squeezed my hand until he was sure I heard my cartilage crackle, let go, laughed, and walked away.
            I have never heard anyone else mention fairy forts since that night in Glanmire, Ireland in the summer of 1975 when I met Mr. Finneran and what may or may not have been his grandson. But if I ever again encounter someone who believes in fairy forts as strongly as Mr. Finneran, I will immediately agree with them that, yes, there are many things in this world that are too unusual to understand, but that makes them no less real.
            Even now, over 40 years later, whenever I see a tree in the middle of a field, no matter how busy I am, I manage a prayer for the American businessman, his sweet daughters and his beautiful wife.
            Although once I used to think about it for days, I still do not know if it was human or spirit hands that ended their lives so suddenly.
            Not do I care anymore.
            For I have learned to respect the inhabitants of fairy forts and to pass them quickly, careful not to disturb whatever spirits, human or fairy, that might live inside.