Go on! It’s okay to complain

WE had meant to eat outside, it was the middle of August, and it had been a glorious day. But at half six in the evening there was a slight chill in the wind, and the sun was too weak to warm it.

My mobile rang; the couple we were meeting were already inside. After hugs and hellos, we sat down, and as we did there was a collective sigh of relief. Feeling the curvature of the chair caressing my back and soft padding beneath was so pleasure- full, I think I made another soft sigh.

No one mentioned it, but we were definitely relieved to sit down. I almost did mention it, it was kind of funny, but in this day and age we are supposed to pretend that we are well able for everything, aren’t we? No whining, no moaning, be a good sport and just get on with it. It’s a way of self-control that I have seen being practised in America for decades. It was important to laugh at things and to keep things sunny.

When I first returned to Wexford after three years of exile as I awaited my green card, I noticed this difference in the culture. When my mother complained about someone constantly bragging about her son, I chastised her for being negative.

It was confusing for her, she knew that complaining wasn’t a great trait, she was generally very positive, but was she not supposed to say if something annoyed her now? Had I unknowingly brought back the etiquette of the new world?

My mother had prepared for my Americanisation; she had bought hot dogs and peanut butter to satiate my supposedly new diet.

She anticipated that, but not my change of attitude. And likewise I had not prepared for the possibility that some of my new attitude was suited to the biggest city in the world, but not necessarily to rural Ireland.

Some New Yorkers wanted to laugh at everything; it was like being on the set of ‘ Happy Days’. Irish people tended to save their laughter for what really made them laugh, in between laughing and crying, they were entitled to do neither.

Looking back now, I realise that Ireland felt very different to America, it wasn’t just the materialistic stuff like central heating, it was the way people moved and thought; they were more porous, events didn’t deflect from them, they were absorbed and consumed whole.

Irish people were listeners, they had all the time in the world for a good story, time was slower, and in fact there was more time.

Time was scarce in New York. Work began in the early morning and you were never supposed to leave, no eleven o’clock break or lunch at your desk, and if you left at the supposed-to time, you were not a team player. A story had to be pared down to the snappy parts, and it better be funny. Complaining was not acceptable and the word ‘no’ was not to be uttered to children. New York was tough, sharp and snappy. Wexford was soft, round and quiet.

Now all four of us sat down after our long timeless day, a seamless day of non-stop action in 2019. If there had been a vacant minute, we had the computer right there waiting to fill it.

Our bodies had sighed with satisfaction at the pleasure of being seated; we dared not mention it for fear of allowing ourselves to complain. I wonder did we pass up a moment to wallow in commiseration, and then to laugh heartily at ourselves.

New York was tough, sharp and snappy. Wexford was soft, round and quiet