Tipperary by Frank Delaney

Author:Frank Delaney
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781588366573
Publisher: Random House Group
Published: 2007-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

I decided after much thought to resort to what I know best—I began to behave as a teacher. “Master the subject,” I told myself. “Lay it out in a clear and benign way. Make it easy to survey. And to assess.”

To accomplish this, I decided that I would begin by fleshing out Charles's life. In a sense, he drove me to it, by saying, “Be careful about me.” As I began to delve and find relevant material, it became essential to apply it to his text, as a kind of extra commentary, a corroboration of what I had been feeling and observing.

By the way, there is nothing in Charles O'Brien's “History” that gave me any clue to the eventual full story and my place in it. So—how much of my response was instinct? I can't tell. But I do know that once I decided to widen my inquiries, I hoped—with an earnest, arresting hope— that I would end up in possession of a text capable of teaching me something extraordinarily valuable.

And I did. What's that old saying—“Be careful what you wish for?” It's fair to say—and I'm smiling with pleasure and irony as I say it—that nothing I have ever read has changed me so profoundly, or mattered to me as much, as Charles O'Brien's “History.”

Delightfully, that is what I, as a teacher, always sought to do: to improve, to elevate, to matter. I loved teaching. Not only have I always considered it a noble profession, but my heart used to pound with excitement on Monday mornings as I walked to the school.

How could it be otherwise? I taught Shakespeare, for heaven's sake! And the poets of the world. I taught the campaigns of Napoleon, the unification of Italy, the American Revolutionary War, the fall of the Roman Empire—I taught the great events of the universe and the great literary art of Man.

That was a privileged life. How many people gain the permission to earn a living by striding through great works and universal events and pointing out their wonders?

Now—though perhaps not on a cosmic scale—I was going to do it for myself, and I became so delighted at this prospect that I began to feel selfish. But I laughed it off. What could be selfish about it? Nothing! I live alone, I would trouble nobody, and I wanted something to fill my days.

Not for a moment did I suspect that this would become the most astonishing and rewarding thing that had ever happened to me. It brought shock, of course, and anger, and some deep sadness wafted in. But at the end of it, nothing would ever look—or be—the same.

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