MEMORY LANE: "I sat, enjoying the Indian summer sun, in my brother's garden in Ballinamore recently, and was told by my young nephew, Brian, that I was sitting on part of what was the old narrow gauge railway track. This to me was holy ground and brought back many pleasant and lasting memories of the '30's, when I was a youngster living in Cannaboe in sight of the railway station, that played such a vital role in our young lives. The "buzzer" at the station awakened us with its booming sound at 7:30 every morning. It was steam operated and I presume it was a signal to the workers to be on the job. The shunting of the train at the 'White Gates' as it go ready for its morning journey to Dromod, always fascinated me. The steam engine puffed and blew, spluttered and steamed, as its big wheels turned round and round getting the carriages ready for take-off. On Sunday afternoons we often went to the station and had great fun running up and down the carriages and sitting on the plush seats of the 1st class compartments. It was our only chance to sample that luxury. On a visit to the Transport Museum in Belfast, I was delighted to see one of those carriages in a very well preserved condition. I remember, too, when we went for our Sunday walks on the railway tracks, it was a quite tiring feat for our short legs stepping from sleeper to sleeper, but we enjoyed it. Sometimes, I was sent to the goods store to enquire from Jimmy McTIERNAN, if there was 'anything for us,' like boxes of boots or shoes from DWYERs of Cork, bales of leather, beds, mattresses, bicycles, machinery from PIERCEs of Wexford, etc. To look around that store and examine its contents and smells was an experience in itself. All human life seemed to be there. In those days we had to provide for our own entertainment and we were experts at that. We had the occasional visit of DUFFY's Circus, Anew McMASTER, a play or a concert in the town hall, but that was not sufficient to satisfy our appetites for creative activities. We were a very inventive bunch of youngsters and we frequently set up our own circus and plays in McTIERNAN's quarry. We erected our tents with poles and canvas bags, composed our own scripts, designed our own costumes, got our own make-up, auditioned our own cast. Admission was one old penny or near enough to half of a 'new' penny, paid at 'the opening,' as we had no door. We really did entertain our audience as well as thoroughly enjoying our own performances. A favourite Sunday haunt of ours was the courthouse. We went into the courtroom there and many a good case was fought and lost or won by us in that room. The judge presided from his seat of honour, the jury took its place, the poor unfortunate prisoner was in the dock and the audience in the gallery. We were real experts in the law and I'm sure that noble profession lost a few good barristers in some of us! Fair days were very special to us. As the fairs were held on the streets, we had a free day from school and we certainly made the most of it. From early morning, the jobbers and the farmers converged on the town from all directions - some farmers driving cattle, others sitting smugly on carts or walking beside them, with little squealing bonhams under canvas wondering where they were going, or why they were subjected to such treatment. We enjoyed listening to and watching the farmers and jobbers making bargains and hearing: 'come down another few pounds' and 'split the difference,' 'what luck penny you give me' and then clinching the bargain by spitting on their hands and clapping palms. We loved to move through the fair - in and out between the mooing cows, avoiding the whish of their not too clean tails, fearing a kick from a cross bullock, and keeping far away from grunting pigs and sows. We loved to peep into the carts at the squealing, wriggling, pink piggies. We pitied those little captive creatures. Meat stalls were taken out of the market yard for the day. GREENANs, LOGANs, and HARVEYs sold the best Leitrim beef, mutton, pig's crubeens and spare ribs. Many a happy farmer went home with his parcel of meat under his arm to enjoy a fine meal - a well earned treat for his long, arduous, but rewarding day at the fair. The meat stalls were returned to the market yard after the fair. Many times we played on those stalls - jumping up and down. Alas! our fun came to a sudden end one day when Maureen McDONNELL was killed, as she fell off one of them. That was a sad day for us and for the town and put an end to our visits to the market yard. We were educated by the Sisters of Mercy and the convent was very special to us. In the primary school we were taught the 3 R's, the rudiments of English and Irish grammar, history, geography, knitting, sewing, music and singing and above all we learned the Penny Catechism 'by heart.' During our school-days, we did not appreciate the hard work of the good Sisters, but in retrospect, we were very grateful to them for their dedicated work in trying to make scholars out of us. Indeed, they can be justly proud of some of the now famous pupils who passed through their schools. I must mention two of the many lovely memories I have of those convent days. At lunch time, one of the sisters brought big slices of lovely fresh white bread, covered with plenty of homemade rhubarb jam, to the school yard. I always envied the children who qualified for this treat and on many occasions came to school without my lunch, in order to get the convent bread and jam. It was simply delicious! On closing day in summer we were brought out on a picnic to 'The Hill' in the convent field on the banks of the canal. I remember, especially, the big tin of canned sweets and how much we enjoyed them and the other goodies. Mother Catherine was a legendary figure in those days - everyone knew her. She operated from the 'back parlour' in the convent. On Saturdays, she brought a group of boys and girls to the parlour to teach us Latin, French, spelling, music and singing. To us this was an ordeal we dreaded, but she, being a true Sister of Mercy, was giving of her time and talents in order to help us to foster potential vocations to the priesthood and religious life. She succeeded very well. Very many of her pupils have ministered and are still ministering in convents and in parishes in Ireland, England and even abroad. We would need her around today! On our way home from school, we loved to visit Tom RODDY in his forge and to watch the great skill with which he plied his trade. It was great to see Tom shoeing a horse. We winced as he cut the horse's hooves, fearing the horse was hurt. Tom shaped the shoe on the anvil, with sparks flying all around, made the holes for the nails in the shoes and completed his job by nailing the shoes on to the horse's freshly pared hooves. The horse and farmer then made a proud exit from the forge, the owner thanking Tom for a job well done and the horse a little bit awkward in his new shoes. Ballinamore was unique, in having a town crier - Paddy DOONER. All heads popped out of doors when Paddy's bell was heard clanging out. Everyone was eager to know what was coming to town. His loud, sonorous voice, announced the coming of a circus, Anew McMASTER, a play or a concert in the hall, an auction, or any other important event. We loved to run after Paddy, or walk with him, hoping to get a turn with the bell. Paddy did a good job and did it with style and conviction. The day before I entered the convent, Carmel CONLON and myself paid a visit to O'NEILL's pub. We went into the snug - a small apartment reserved for ladies who wanted a quiet quick one. We ordered our minerals and enjoyed our first and last drink in the privacy of a snug. We just wanted the experience and the feel of the snug, before we turned our backs on it all. Carmel entered a few months after me as Sr. Isidore and has since gone on to her reward, may she rest in peace. As I release these memories, the past blends with the present. The old railway station and its buildings have been replaced by St. Phelim's fine secondary school for boys; the old cruciform church with its ancient galleries is gone and a new church dominates the centre of the town; the old sluggish canal has been transformed into an active, vibrant canal, bringing cabin cruisers on its deep waters from the Erne to the Shannon. Incidentally, it was my brother, Colm MARTIN, an engineer with the O. P. W. who drew up the original plans and costing for this Ballinamore/Ballyconnell Canal. Everything changes but all is still the same in 'the town I love so well.'" -- Sr. Finbarr MARTIN, "Leitrim Guardian" 1998 yearly magazine.