John
McGonigle - Class of 1974
A tribute by Billy Tate.
No sorrow can them now annoy,
Nor weakness, grief or pain;
No faintness can abate their joy,
They now in life do reign.
(John Bunyan)
During the 50s and 60s my father walked the six of
us to Edenderry Presbyterian Church, every Sunday without fail. No
matter how inclement the weather he accepted no sick-notes for church
parade. The one person who later absented herself, as we reached our
teenage-years, was my mother and that was unusual because she was
devoted to her family and church.
We 'Blackmouths' lacked the warmth and friendship of her beloved St
Mark's Church of Ireland. When her children were old enough, she
returned to the mother church of her youth. She was always quoting from
the sermons preached by the Rev McGonigle and sharing with us his
all-embracing brand of Christianity. Mother and father now resting in
Drumcree, the 'Blackmouth' forever a son of the parish.
The good-reverend-gentleman had all the virtues that the Irish people
are famed for across the world. He was a most gregarious
man-of-the-cloth and his wife was a lovely lady. My first sight of
Barney has remained imprinted on my brain, as he strolled down our
street on his way to see 'Lofty' Ballantine, the local cobbler in Thomas
Street. My mum spoke to him and he told her that he was going to
leave-in a pair of shoes for repair. To be truthful, I am not sure if
she called him by his given-name Alan or Barney, the name by which he
has been known to me for over forty-years. What I do recall was that he
was in his Boy Scout's uniform and he was whistling loudly, very much at
ease with life.
When I started Portadown College I was aware of Barney but time
conspires to play a trick on me because I cannot remember exactly when
we became friends. However, I was privileged to go through school and
Stranmillis College in his company. My wife stares quizzically at people
who can see my likeness in one of my sons or daughter. I am sure that
Mrs McGonigle would glare at me if I said that Dad, Barney and John all
looked very much alike to me. Three-peas-in-a-pod!
John was the younger brother by a couple of years but from an early age
in school he had a presence that all the McGonigle men possessed. They
had a magnetic personality and a willingness to help their fellow-man.
No matter where I met him, he always had a smile and a kind word to
share. He was an amusing lad who enjoyed a joke and that mop of blond
hair made him stand out in a crowd. I am sure that if John was alive
today that long hair-style would bring a smile to his face.
It was in a crowd that he belonged and he could charm his way
into-and-out-off any situation. He was very good at reading the mood of
his friends. When John spoke to you he always demanded your total
attention; what he said was worth listening-to and he made you feel
refreshed. What makes this so unusual is because he was the younger
brother, an extremely difficult role to play in any school. Two years is
a life-time at school and younger siblings tend not to make an impact
with the older brother's friends.
I watched him progress through the rugby teams and he was determined to
emulate the achievements of his older brother. His school rugby
photograph of 73-74 does not quite capture the smile that transformed
his whole countenance, one that is implanted fondly in my memory, but it
comes close. If John were here today, he is the sort of lad that I would
want teaching in my school. He had something that was worth passing down
through the generations.
However, John chose to enter the hospitality industry and this was a
natural choice for his talents. Hospitable is what he was and I am sure
that he would have risen to the top in his chosen profession. John
Douglas told me of John's untimely death. JD kindly offered me a place
in his car, to travel up to Magherafelt and pass on my condolences to
the family. 'Sorry for your troubles,' words this father, who greeted us
at the door, had heard many times that night. It is only as a father,
that I can come a little closer to an understanding of what the loss of
a child might entail. However, there will only ever be one John and that
sad experience can only be shared by Mum, Dad, Ruth and Barney. Only two
peas remained in the pod.
As we drove up north, I reflected on the last time that I saw John
before we lost contact. I was walking through Ballymena, near the old
hospital, when I heard someone calling my name. Across the road was
John, hand in the air, waving frantically and that smile lit up a dull
winter's day. He told me all about his new job in Scotland and he was
brimming with excitement. The boy had become a man but he still looked
so young. A moment of friendship, as hand-clasped-hand, sealing an
eternal bond and instantly frozen in time.
In my private moments that farewell image has returned to me almost
every year since that day and it is one that I enjoy. It does not bring
sadness to me but delightful memories of a charming young man who
brightened-up some of my school days. I often wonder why God calls home
young men like John and the answer to that question has tested my faith
to braking point. However, John was a gift from God to loving parents
and I know that they have made their peace. The time will come when I do
likewise.
Among life's precious jewels,
Genuine and rare,
The one that we call friendship
Has worth beyond compare.
(Unknown)
John is 5th from the left in the back row.