The General

While we were in Bantry Bay and preparing to eat at The Snug, we found ourselves reading about the near French invasion of Napoleon. I said near, because he never actually was able to invade for the gale winds blew and prevented his men from landing. Every army has its leader, and since we are talking about an army, that person typically is referred to as the General. Well, if an army has has to have a general, then why wouldn't every family? Well, I know one family who did, and allow me to tell you what I remember of "the general".

The general that I knew was a quiet man and who at first glance, might remind you of "Popeye". He came and went from the house, always on foot, and often returned with something that was rolled up under his arm. After taking off his overcoat, he'd either retire to the kitchen to unwrap his package or find his way to the front room for a smoke. That was the what I remember most, his smoking. Sometimes, especially when we were in Canada, he'd let us help him roll his cigarettes. They never had that store bought look, but I guess they served the purpose. I tried to get him to stop this habit many times, but to no avail. One day when he returned home I happened to be in the kitchen, and I saw him open his package. Evidently, in his travels, he would stop by the market and pick up fresh fish, smelts mostly. He'd add them to the frying pan on the stove that he had used dozens of times before, sometimes just adding them to the leftovers. He then might have a cup of black coffee or tea, while I would grab a carriage covered glass from the cupboard and fill it with milk and Ovaltine.

Once, when my mother ventured off to Canada with my 2 younger brothers and me, the general came along to keep us company. We went as far as Bar Harbor and took the Blue Nose over to Digby in Nova Scotia. It was a foggy trip and the car ferry pitched the entire time. I think there were a few sick passengers on that crossing. Finally, after arriving at Uncle Willy's, the general would assume his usual resting spot on the couch in the kitchen. That was his spot, and everyone knew it because he was, after all, the general. If we took a trip into St. John and wandered through the market, what would the general come home with? You guessed it, smelts wrapped in the wax paper just like at home.

Later in life, he assumed his position on the couch, but now it was at our house, first in the living room and then in the kitchen. He had a short stay at one of the local rest homes after he had fallen and broken his hip, but eventually returned to his domain in the kitchen once more. When I was about about 13, after having spent the night with my younger brothers at some dear friends, I received a call from my father. He informed me that the general had passed away. After a few minutes and having shed several tears, I was able to tell my 2 younger brothers.

Yes, he was the general. I can hear my father referring to him as the general, as if that was his given name. No, he was the general because he was one of 3 Johns living at Bristol Road, the general, Uncle John Flaherty, and his son John. How else could anyone keep them all straight, unless there was some nickname to properly identify each of them. From what I have been told, it was my Grandmother who actually nicknamed him the general, and why, I do not know. He was a quiet man, and to the adults, my Grandfather was known as "the general". But not to me; to me he was and always will be Grampy McNeil. In this case, the general was quite possibly the original "Quiet Man"!