Our lucky day, Kerry ! Just to establish a little perspective - eight years difference in age doesn't mean much when you're in your seventies or eighties, but it does affect one's perception of the events we lived. Mick, my eldest brother, left home in Westbourne St, parallel to O'Meara St, the other border of the five-acre property that was Michael O'Meara's backyard, limited by Anglo Square, the front yard being limited by Princes Highway, when I was four. He was ordained in 1951. Jim was ordained in 1956 and I was ordained at the minimum age of 24 in 1961. Mick died of Alzheimers at the young age of 67. Jim died when he was just a bit older than I am now. They took with them many of the stories - and legends - of our family history. To my own amazement I am at present the Patriarch of the clan.
In my book, the first of the three brief autobiographical chapters, "Bred and Buttered at Botany Bay", tells of the fifteen years I lived at home before leaving to become a Franciscan (!). As my self-published book had what I would call, in a gross understatement, a limited distribution, I decided to publish it in my blog (blindfaithblindfolly.wordpress.com). You will find this first chapter of my life-story in the Archives, dated September 28, 2015. Check out the posts of that same year, September 27, September 28 and 29, October 22 and October 23, as well as October 26, for the rest of the autobio material. The rest of the book consists of 227 Reflections for Believers on the Brink. My blog, which is the continuation of the book, already contains nearly 900 posts. Recently I decided to publish in the blog the book's Reflections, beginning with the post "God Could Care Less", the first in Chapter 4, and I am presently publishing the twenty or so posts on Darwin which constitute Chapter 5, the latest being "Intelligent Design or Progressive Adaptation". You doan hafta read this scandalous, perversive material, which I am making available to the world at large. But in case you wanna, it may answer your question about why the hell I became an atheist.
To my shame, when I visited Ireland for the first (and last) time some years ago, I passed thru Toomevara, taking in the church and the pub that like practically everything else in our ancestral town is still run by an O'Meara - but missed out on meeting any others of the clan, including the famous farmer Matt, well-known to my brother Jim and another member or two of the Kogarah O'Mearas.
How's that for starters, mate ?
Frank O'Phile
