But life in its wisdom has whispered to me that no longer must I carry on,
So I’ll pack up my travelling in hopes that I’ll be, remembered when I’m dead and gone.”
Packie with Mandy Waltham, Fiona Heywood & Rita Gallagher in John Waltham’s cottage in Glenconwell
them, Packie asked for some children’s clothes and dressed up the mandolin, telling the boys that it was a pregnant woman! Jimmy was still of an age where he had little knowledge of the facts of life, and this all came as a shock to the system – and to his mother! The perpetrator’s still laughing about it, 65 years later.
On another occasion, in Packie with Hilary Blythe in the Corner House, Ardara
Inishowen, one of the singers from Clonmany, Charlie McGonigle, looked across the room at Packie and said, “I know that man”. It turned out that, many years before, Charlie had been on the Derry boat for Ardrossan when a drover came aboard with a bunch of cattle he was taking over. There was singing in the ship’s bar as they crossed the stretch of water to Scotland, and the stranger asked if he might give them a song. He sang not just one, but was asked for more so frequently that he sang the boat all the way to Scotland.
Charlie’s never forgotten that trip and Packie’s singing. In fact, many people around Donegal have been singing his songs for years, or have learned them from others without ever knowing who composed them. There have been such occasions when the unknown composer was sitting almost next to the singer.
But Packie’s choice these days is to stay near to home. When I called recently he was listening to a forty year old recording of himself and Bonnie at Leigh on Sea in Essex, sent to Packie with thanks for the pleasure he’d given all those years ago. The circle’s turned, and now it’s Packie who’s sitting back and enjoying the music. He doesn’t play so much now – the arthritis won’t let him play the whistle at all – but he does still manage the harmonica pretty well.
Other things have changed as well. When he first returned to Ardara, he was living in a
The Living Tradition - Page 20 The Living Tradition - Page 20
converted garage; comfortable enough, but coldish in winter; now he has a new bungalow in a quiet development on the Killybegs side of the town. He’s given up eating porridge for breakfast, much to my relief. I got into hot water with him for scraping out his pan many years ago – it had a layer of congealed porridge on it that would have interested an archaeologist, but Packie reckoned I spoiled the flavour of the porridge!
But he still likes strong tea, made with loose tea in the mug and getting stronger as you get down the mug. Delicious! And a taste for whiskey is manifesting itself to a degree that worried my bottle of Jameson considerably! The one lung (a legacy of TB) still works just as well, although he says he gets short of breath and therefore likes chorus songs – “you sing the chorus while I breathe”. He still has stories beyond counting to tell, but a long life fully lived means that stories about Packie are almost as numerous.
“...I won’t die till I get fed up...”
The last verse of the Donegal Traveller seems apposite to conclude:
“But life in its wisdom has whispered to me that no longer must I carry on, So I’ll pack up my travelling in hopes that I’ll be remembered when I’m dead and gone.”
I don’t know how Packie will be remembered, but I’m sure of one thing: he will be remembered, and with a smile. And one final quote: “I won’t die till I get fed up!”
After nearly 90 years entertaining people, Packie’s love of life is as strong as ever.
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