Saw Doctors and snooping

I’ve been listening to a lot of the Saw Doctors, and it’s putting me into an unexpectedly homesick mood. The oddness of this will become clear in a moment.

When I first started my research into Dad’s family, one of the first things I discovered about his hometown of Tuam is that a band called the Saw Doctors originated there. Now, I hardly ever buy CDs without knowing more about a band, but I made an exception this time and bought their “Live at Galway” CD. I’m now deeply into them. They write and sing about their hometown and the surrounding land with such love and truth about this corner of the world that I want so badly to know better. It makes my chest tighten slightly with a feeling I can only call longing because, really, homesickness isn’t accurate. I’ve been to Tuam once, ever so briefly, and I was more concerned at the time with the bus schedule and whether or not this cabbie knew where the hell we were going. It costs $1,000 to fly to Ireland and back to Kansas City. $1,000.

I’ve done sporadic research this week on the book front. Tried to interview Dad some more yesterday, and he begged off again. I know this is his story and it’s rather painful to him – the years of loneliness, the secrets kept from him – but it’s my story as well, and he’s a big key to the answers I seek. Mom dug out Dad’s birth certificate and sundry other papers last week, and Dad came in all blustery, “What are you doing in my personal private papers?” He gets this way sometimes – overly theatrical, chest-puffing, man-of-the-house attitude. But I think there was a core of honesty in his affrontery over my interest. He’s not ready to be an artifact yet.