Lighten Up: Auld Lehane... On the ground in New York City
America is a wonderful place. A place populated with a people who are full of fun.
I went to New York during the week. I had a fabulous time.
It was on my bucket list for years, so eventually I had to go. I had to obey the call of the bucket. For if there is one thing I am loyal to, like any good farmer or beast, it's buckets.
I didn't get where l am today in farming without buckets.
Anyhow, New York is a glorious and very busy spot. It's like Macroom on a fair day, only multiplied by 10.
But alas, unlike Macroom, New York doesn't have an outstanding cattle mart to whet the appetite. However, it does have almost everything else.
Anyhow, one day while staring up at the Empire State Building and marvelling at how the big monkey King Kong had once scaled the thing, I heard my name being called.
"Don't I know you, buddy?" a man I had never met before cried aloud into the cool New York air. He put out his hand and was as friendly as be damned.
A New Yorker born and raised, he had recognised the face of Auld Lehane from the farming pages of the .
He then went on to say that he was a scientist working with NASA and that America's return to the moon was imminent. I was delighted, of course, to hear the good news, but wondered what it had to do with me.
Eventually, he got to the point, which was a relief, for my toes were starting to freeze. Next month, a NASA rocket will fly around the moon at a speed that can hardly be comprehended.
"As you are probably aware, our rockets don't do handbrake turns," says he, "the swing around the moon at high speed will be tough."
"Have you any suggestions?" he then asked, in all sincerity. "In the name of God," says I, "What would I know about rockets to the moon? I'm a farmer from Kilmichael."
"Well, yes," says he, "I know that, but I was only wondering, for I once heard that nothing would faze a west Cork farmer."
He was talking sense, of course, and feeling sorry for him and NASA, I advised the following,
"If I were an astronaut and needing to swing my rig around the moon, I'd use the side brake. And then I'd pull on the steering like devil himself, while keeping the shoe to the floor.
"I'd head to the moon and around it at high speed. I'd go around the moon, the same way I'd go around a contrary field with my haybob attached. Full throttle all the way, my friend."
"But we don't have a hand throttle or a split brake on our rockets," says he.
"Well, you'd better get an agri mechanic to fit them so," I advised. And he promised that he would.
He then took a few more notes from me on my thoughts regarding land reclamation and suggestions I had in relation to hauling cows to the moon. Everything I said impressed him greatly. I was nothing short of a revelation.
"Be sure and watch the take off in February," he then said, with all his problems now solved. And I promised him I would, if I wasn't too busy on the land.
And with our conversation having turned to farming, I wondered if he might by chance have a copy of the , for in my hurry to pack, I had left my back home in Ireland.
Well, as luck would have it, didn't my New York pal have a copy, and better again had it read from cover to cover. "Take my copy buddy, enjoy it and your stay in the big apple."
And you bet I did, because my trip there had just been made complete.
America is a wonderful place. A place populated with a people who are full of fun.
A people who can look to the moon with ambition, while still having their feet firmly planted on the ground.
