Richard Hogan: The sign on my daughter’s bedroom is my greatest achievement
And 12 Nolan With Moya His And Sophie, Their Hannah Photograph Wife Erica Lizzie, Richard Hogan Daughters 9, 5,
Blessed is he amongst women! I often hear this phrase uttered to me from some kindly, old smiling passer-by as I go about my important girl-dad business. The youngest in my arms, the other two chirping at me for whatever has taken their interest at that moment. A jellycat or some squishmallow.
Of course the eldest is looking for more credit on her phone, or some new eyelash curler. A ‘spoolie’, I think it’s called. Being a girl dad is by far the greatest achievement of my life. "Would you go again, if you knew you’d have the boy?"
"I’d only go again if I knew it would be a girl!"
That response is generally met with a confused, quizzical look. My wife smiling behind me. I was always destined to be a father to girls. I grew up with two strong women in my life. My mother and grandmother reared me and my brothers. My grandmother was a great Cork woman. Born in 1912. I never felt like there was a gap between us. You could tell her anything, and us three boys often did. She came to live with us after her twin sister died, when she was 74 years old. That’s the age my mother is now.
My mother-in-law was 49 years old when I rocked up with smooth indifference and ripped jeans to collect her daughter for a date at Douglas cinema. I’m nearly that age now! Time's arrow hurtling at warp speed. Ploughing the furrow in my brow.
But I digress. My parents converted the garage into a granny flat, it was her "little shack". That’s what she called it. When my father’s addiction enveloped his life, it was a silent solitude away from some of that chaos. She was much-needed light, in those times of darkness.
When I was in primary school, I’d often sneak into her bed and pretend I had gone to school. "Sure, you know enough," she'd say. We’d spend the morning watching TV together and chatting. And whenever I was in trouble for whatever misdemeanour I had committed, I’d sneak down to her shack, she’d harbour the felon, with biscuits and Barry’s tea.
I spent a lot of my teenage days trying to prank her. There was the time I recorded the Lotto results one week and a couple of weeks later when she asked me to go up and do them for her, I played the numbers I had recorded a few weeks previously. I came back pressed play on the VCR and watched as she believed she had just won the Lotto.
She came running out of her shack, "we’re rich!". She didn’t speak to me for a few days after that particular one. When I got older, after a night's revelling in Cork City, no matter what hour, I’d go through her side entrance and she’d sit up and ask me "how did you get on boyeen?"
"Did you meet any nice girl?"
We’d sit there together in the half-light, eating chips and chatting about life. She’d tell me all about the dances at The Arcadia and Mick Delahunty and his show band. It seemed a wonderful world of dancing at crossroads and long summer evenings of friendship. The boys out threshing, while the girls prepared the food. A different time. A different world.
I have always loved hearing people's stories, those moments when something small irrevocably changed the course of their life. My grandmother often told the story of how her friend called for her one evening to go to some ball. She wasn’t in the mood, but her friend flicked a coin, heads to go, tails to stay in. It came up heads.
She was with us when my parents separated. She watched her daughter build her life again. My mother cared for my grandmother while she dealt with all that was going on in her personal life. That is strength. Even in those difficult days, my mother was always there in the rain to collect us. Fire lit, dinner ready, love in the meal-bin.
Those small, everyday things that you don’t see because you are so close to them. That’s where love is. My mother loved her boys. She was good fun, too. Singing and dancing around the house. Our sense of humour is shaped by those two strong Cork women. My mother often dropped me to the Rocco disco. "Be respectful." she'd tell me.
Friday is International Women’s Day. I have been blessed in my life by the great women who have been a part of it. My mother and grandmother shaped my early life, and my wife and children have shaped my adult life. Being a dad to girls is the best part of my life. The sign on my daughter’s bedroom is my greatest achievement - "No boys allowed, except for dad".
March 8 is a day to reflect on all the important women in our lives. The colour they bring to it, and the strength they instilled in us. Blessed is he amongst women. Blessed indeed!