Frank McCourt Story

[tj2001]

My Favorite Frank McCourt Story
http://blogs.cqpolitics.com/davidcorn/2009/07/my-favorite-frank-mccourt-stor.html

But the funniest story was about the time McCourt, who had been a much-celebrated creative writing teacher at Stuyvesant High School in New York City, ran into a past student of his. I'm blanking on the student's name (so I'll make one up), and it went something like this:

One day I was walking down Second Avenue, and this young man stopped me. "Mr. McCourt, Mr. McCourt," he said excitedly. "It's me, Rocky Malone."

"Yes, hello, Rocky."

"Rocky Malone. Do you remember me, Mr. McCourt?"

"I do, Rocky. I do."

"Do you remember I was in your class, Mr. McCourt?"

"I do, Rocky, I do."

"Do you remember I was in your class?"

"Yes, Yes, Rocky. I remember."

"Do you remember that I wrote poetry in that class? Do you, Mr. McCourt?

"Yes, I do, Rocky."

"And you liked the poetry, Mr. McCourt. You liked it."

"Yes, I remember that, Rocky. It was very good."

"And you told me I'd make a good poet. Do you remember that, Mr. McCourt?"

"I do, Rocky. Yes, I do."

"Well, because of you I went on to become a poet, Mr. McCourt....And now I have no money, Mr. McCourt. No money. So, fuck you, Mr. McCourt! Fuck you!"

And Rocky stormed off.

McCourt laughed deeply when he told that anecdote, and he flashed his mischievous smile. He loved his stories. He really did.

[EFerrari]

1. LOL!

To Rocky and to Frank. :toast:

[Historic NY]

2. His story is similar to my families story here...I am going back to the "old sod" in October.

< McCourt, a native of New York, was good company in the classroom and at the bar, but few had such a burden to unload. His parents were so poor that they returned to their native Ireland when he was little and settled in the slums of Limerick. Simply surviving his childhood was a tale; McCourt's father was an alcoholic who drank up the little money his family had. Three of McCourt's seven siblings died, and he nearly perished from typhoid fever.

"Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood," was McCourt's unforgettable opening. "People everywhere brag and whimper about the woes of their early years, but nothing can compare with the Irish version: the poverty, the shiftless loquacious father; the pious defeated mother moaning by the fire; pompous priests, bullying schoolmasters; the English and all the terrible things they did to us for 800 long years.">

http://news.aol.com/article/frank-mccourt-dies/578119

I am journeying back in October not so much to find roots but to see with me own eyes the land my forbearer's left.

[TexasProgresive]

6. As is typical of families

his brother Malachy seems to remember childhood a bit differently. Maybe because Frank was older he took it more seriously.

Edited to add: I am so glad that I went to Ireland before reading Angela's Ashes and that I saw it through my eyes unclouded by Frank's vision. And yes while there saw some signs of distress caused by poverty but at the time (mid 90's) what struck me the most was that there seemed to be higher lows and lower highs in the economic strata. I am sure that this changed with the roaring of the Celtic Tiger and I wonder how it fares for people with the recession.

[sandnsea]

3. lol

I had thought storytellers like Frank McCourt were long gone. As tragic as Angela's Ashes was, the writing was a pure delight. What a treasure.

[Enthusiast]

5. Agree. We all read Angela's Ashes

and Tis, my entire family.

[peacefreak]

4. Rest with the angels, Mr. McCourt.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

[Maeve]

7. And do you know what happened to Angela's ashes?

Frank and Malachy went out drinking with the package that held the remains of their mother. And the next day they had to make the rounds again, to find where they'd left her!

Of course, they did and her remains were scattered in several places, including a bit at the graves of the little ones who died...there were a couple of videos made in '97-98 about the McCourt family (The McCourts of Limerick and The McCourts of New York--found them at my public library) that showed part of that part of the story.