Two Sundays ago I bumped into an old friend from primary school and she told me that her brother was gravely ill. Only six days later I heard he was dead.
Joe was a few years older than me and at school, I thought of him as one of 'big boys'. I remember him teasing me because new to television, I thought that different makes of TV sets showed different programmes.
I have another memory of Joe when he was a teenager. I was going to my Granny's shop on an errand and he was on the other side of the road swiping the heads of dandelions with a stick. Why this stays in my mind I do not know. There was something fierce about him that unnerved me.
Joe left Tannaghmore when he was a very young man and I rarely saw him after that. Until I went to work for a homeless organisation. This organisation was new to Northern Ireland and there was to be a convention in Belfast. A lot of people would be coming over from London, Liverpool and the South of England. My manager, Anne Henderson, mentioned that one of the people from London, the chair of the organisation, hailed from my neck of the woods. His name was Joe McGarry.
Joe's story was extraordinary. He came to England in 1971 and worked for more than 20 years working as a labourer, often sleeping rough and eventually falling into alcoholism.
My own brother left Ireland for London when he was in his teens and did the same sort of labouring work as Joe. He told me stories of daily hirings and the lure of the pub at the end of the day. Eamon said there were middle-aged men, staying in stinking digs and the pub was a home from home for them. It was there that the site foremen paid out the wages. Little wonder that so many of them stayed there, in the warm, in familiar company, spending those wages rather than go back to their dank lodgings.
My brother was lucky in that he had sisters living and working in London who provided emotional support and, occasionally when times were tough, a place to stay. Joe was not so fortunate. In his own words in Ireland's Forgotten Generation (23 minutes in) he was seven years homeless, sleeping rough or in derelict buildings and still got up in the morning and went to work.
Eventually, Joe moved into Arlington House in Camden Town. He was still drinking but eventually, his life turned around. He became involved in the Aisling Project and after a trip to Co. Donegal in 1995 he found the inspiration to quit alcohol.
I didn't know any of this when we met in Belfast. Anne and I gave Joe a lift back to Tannaghmore and we stopped at the Ramble Inn for something to eat. He spoke about his alcoholism. He was so articulate and well-spoken and came across as such a thoroughly decent man.
Afterwards, I followed his career. He went on to found Novas Ireland and set up projects in Limerick, Tralee and other Irish cities. I'm going to link to Joe's friend Alex McDonnell who'll tell the story better that I ever could. Alex also gave a great eulogy yesterday at Joe's funeral.
Joe McGarry was a truly remarkable man. I'm glad I met him.
