Salvage a smile.

Published Meath Chronicle 28th January 2015.

Some of the worst things in life had happened to him between those sweaty walls. But like the others he kept returning. Every time he entered their veiled faces acknowledged him, at once promising everything yet always disappointing, each one reflected the others dull failures until today was yesterday and yesterday could have been tomorrow.

This morning, the bar was different; a new drinker with a bag at his feet, propped up the woodwork surrounded by the usual posse.  There were two ways you could ingratiate yourself with the early boozers - court them with tales of drunkenness or buy your way in. Given the early hour he decided this guy was a high-roller and that meant free drink. He ordered a scotch and started on the periphery to worm his way in.

Far off, the man appeared well dressed but now up close the blue suit had seen better days. The sleeves were threadbare and the shiny patches on the trousers reminded him of our brittle Irish sea. Mulling the thought along with his third whiskey, he returned to the action. “So, what do you do mate?” the local interrogated the stranger.

The pained expression spoke volumes. But it was already too late, he´d opened a can the morning crew knew only too well - the well-paid job, the fancy car, the private schools, then the crisis and after, redundancy, banks, bankruptcy and divorce. By the time the man had finished his dirge, the other drinkers had drifted off and now they were only two. Guilt at the question and no money, the local stayed put. “What´ll ye have mucker”, the new boy chirped up having now unburdened himself.

He rummaged and pulled out a last crumpled note. Unable to hide his disappointment the local lashed down his juice while the suit smiled and slurred, “In reality, all I have left of any value are these” pointing to his teeth and smiling broadly. So perfect and white were they Michelangelo could have carved them from Italian marble. “Jaysus mate, with teeth like that you should smile more often!” They both laughed until the drink was gone.

“If ye want more drink follow me mucker”, the visitor picked up his bag and they left. It was bright and clear outside. “Where are we headed?” the local staggered in the wake of a man on a mission. He ignored the questions until they were deep in the estate. “We´re on a salvage job”, said the suit, finally stopping outside a smart, detached house. Before the next question he´d jimmied the door and walked in. “But isn´t this illegal?” he stuttered as the stranger closed the door and then proceeded to take a crowbar and shiny hammer from his satchel.

With surgical precision he sliced and tore up the entrance wall exposing the wiring then neatly extracted it from the connections. Together they pulled it out and bunched it up. From room to room, they team-worked until the bag was full of balled-up copper wire. When they´d finished in the attic the local finally broke his silence, “This scrap will buy us a load of drink mate but don´t you feel bad for the owner?”

“No, mucker”, replied the suit, “This is my house”, and he gave his new friend that perfect white smile.    

Dr Don Mac Auley.

Spinning a jig.

Published Meath Chronicle 23th April 2014.

If, in public, you´re used to flipping your nipper bottom-up to sniff his latest offering or your “wheels on the bus go round and round" all the aisles of the local supermarket then you could be accused of baby bliss; that complete lack of self-awareness parents wear with such ease, as if your little one had infected you at birth. And often to reach out to him you too regress to being an infant, squeaking, gurgling, thrumming and fee-fi-fo-fumming. You develop your act, first in private, on the bed or sofa until you take it on the road. Before you know it you´re just another street act, with a captivated audience of one. One that will smile and laugh while others whisper and stare.

But don´t take your unique fan for granted as research now shows that even newborns, despite their unfocused eyes and lack of coordination, have built in body awareness and can even learn in their sleep.

At the University of London researchers showed that when healthy newborns were shown a video of another baby´s face being stroked by a soft brush, at the same time as their own face was stroked by a similar brush they showed interest. When the video was played upside-down or the stroking was time delayed, the newborns were less interested. They concluded young babies have the ability to differentiate themselves from others - when what babies see in relation to their own bodies matches what they feel they can empathise just as adults do. Another study looked at sleeping infants just 1-2 days old. Scientists played a musical tone followed by a puff of air to their eyes 200 times over the course of a half-hour. Rapidly, the newborns learned to anticipate the puff of air upon hearing the tone by tightening up their eyelids.

So what does this mean for your distracting performances? Well, you´ll have to find new material, better routines and like every entertainer gauge the audience´s reaction, as unpredictable as it may be. For example, the other day I thought I´d brighten up the baby´s mood by showing him his reflection in the mirror; it had always worked with the dog who barked and threw mid-air tilts. At first, the baby really stared as if he didn´t recognise himself, then he put his hand up to his chin like an auld boy rubbing stubble between chubby fingers. Still looking in the mirror he wasn´t rubbing, I realised he was cleaning. The rediscovered carrot was off his chin and in his mouth before I could scrape my own chin off the floor. He gave me one of his big, thoroughly entertained smiles.

“Hey diddle diddle” seemed hollow after such a humbling experience. Like half of Ireland I had the DVD somewhere so I´d have to dig it out. Twenty years was a long time ago, worn legs and tired shoes, but it would really blow him away. It may also explain why you see your dentist jigging his Riverdance between the aisles in Tescos!

Dr Don Mac Auley.