There but for the grace of God go I

THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF GOD GO I

In mid July, my husband and I took a short break to beautiful Killarney in Co Kerry. This would be about 150 miles from our home. About half way there, we took a break and had dinner in a large irish town. We then sat by the river which flowed gently through the town centre.

Badly needing a haircut my husband decided to visit the barber. I enjoyed the leisure of sitting by the river watching the ducks in the lovely July sunshine, the very first day without rain for weeks.

A neatly dressed gentleman, just accross fom me played lovely tunes on an accordian. He belted out some great 1960`s songs, and had a unique melodious voice. One could tell he had lots of talent. He looked about forty. His dark hair was tied back in a ponytail. With mustach and bushy beard, one could barely see his ruddy cheeks and dark brown eyes peeping through. Placed at his side was an empty bottle, and one almost full. The contents seemed to be red wine. Before him on the ground was his hat, and he looked so happy each time he heard a coin drop in. Many people stopped to listen, for the music was spectacular.

A young girl, thin and fornlorn looking, around about twelve stopped, with a blonde haired boy of about six years old. "Here dad" she softly said, handing something tinfoil wrapped. He stopped his music, and began to chat with them. "Daddy please come home" she pleaded. Mammy is so sad and we are all so unhappy". He threw his eyes to heaven and took a great swig of the contents of the bottle. Tears streamed down her pale face. "You promised dad, you promised" she cried. He stroked their heads and smiled, "Run along now, I`ll be home soon" he promised and returned to his music.

With her young face sad and heartbroken she turned and slowly walked away, her long dark hair falling in on her tearstained cheeks. She held the little boys hand, as he held his head backwards, his eyes totaly focused on his father.

With the bottle almost empty, he sang to his hearts content, though his voice now was getting a little slurred. Many passers by lingered and listened and gave contributions but some looked on in utter disgust. I thought "There but for the grace of God go I".
My husband arrived back from the barbers. "Sorry I was so long, a few before me " he blurted. So carried away with the music, and taken aback with what I had witnessed, I hardly noticed he
was gone so long. We sat a little while by the river, listened to the music and fed the ducks.

Just as we were leaving to make the rest of our journey, I was delighted to see the man empty the coins into his pocket and perhaps go home as promised. He opened the tinfoil and nibbled at some food.

As we passed to our car, he came out of the off-licence with yet another bottle. Placing his hat on the ground, he picked up the accordian and began to play again.

I felt so sad as we continued our journey. That night I prayed for those people, and for a very special friend whose life was destroyed by alcohol many years ago.

There but for the grace of God go any of us, indeed

Story ID:	2523
Written by:	Kathleen Blanchfield (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Story
Writers Conference:	$500 2007 Family Memories Writing Project
Location:	Kilkenny Eire Ireland
Year:	2007
Person:	My husband