Salty faces and ferocious appetites

St Joseph’s Secondary School in Spanish Point was founded 80 years ago by the Sisters of Mercy and to mark the milestone, a new book, Salty Faces and Ferocious Appetites – A tapestry of stories from a Seaside School, will be launched next week. The title comes from the story told by Sr Bernardine Meskell, mother abbess of the Poor Clare Monastery in Ennis, who was a pupil at the school from 1958 to 1963.
The sea was magic…I particularly loved the rough winter waves and those walks by the White Strand or down the Racecourse Road coming back with salty faces and ferocious appetites. A winding trail of maroon with a hint of blue regularly moved with the coast road. I still cherish the memory of those school walks. Water always held something special for me, even the rain. During the school term in Spanish Point there was plenty of both sea and rain. I grew up in Castleconnell, County Limerick, close to the famous Doonass Waterfall, fed by our very own stretch of the Shannon River.
Such was my love of nature that when the time came to decide on where I should go to secondary school, Spanish Point by the wild Atlantic Ocean was the perfect place. I loved it from day one. Any tugs of separation or isolation from family and friends came and went with the tides and its constant memory has sustained me well throughout my contemplative life.
Mrs Houlihan, our primary school principal in Castleconnell, was the first to suggest Spanish Point. ‘It was an A school’, she said and very highly regarded in its time. As the eldest of eight children, I was the boarding school trailblazer, followed in time by all my siblings, though not all to Spanish Point. Mother and father drove me to the school on a brisk September day in their green Anglia car.
Funny the things you remember – one was the ‘prospectus’- the list of items drawn up by the nuns that a boarder might require. There was the wine box-pleat uniform, crested blazer, a gabardine coat, blue shirts, maroon ties and a boat-shaped hat. Everything was listed right down to our underclothes and on each item was stitched a tiny white label with SP (for Spanish Point) and a school number – mine was 36. Also listed, of those that I remember, was a rug, two synthetic housecoats and a napkin ring. There were others too. But the listed item that has puzzled me most to this day was a pen-knife. I can’t even imagine why it was there or what useful purpose it could serve us girls.
Although I was lonely leaving home, the loneliness was short-lived. The comfort of the fire and the security of our large family was what I missed most. But I had hardly emptied my suitcase, found my dormitory bed or hung my brand new coat downstairs in the long narrow locker, when I met Frances McInerney (Keane) from Tiermaclane. Our friendship was instant, as was Martha Shanahan’s. Frances’s father had died before she was born. I could not comprehend that loss. My instinct was to protect her, to comfort her and to somehow share her story. It may even have been another flicker that fired the flame of my call to a life of prayer and listening. Here in the monastery even today, that memory still comes back to me.
It was always a delight (and sometimes a surprise) when, as boarders, our simple needs were met. Dear old Sr Anne knew my weakness and was always quick to sneak me a couple of sausages before teatime. Mention profiteroles to me and I am immediately reminded of another wonderful friendship. Geraldine Collins (a Mercy nun who is involved today in a special ministry in Glendalough, County Wicklow) actually lived in Spanish Point. Geraldine shared her home treats by secretly leaving a Tupperware container of chocolate-coated profiteroles with fresh cold cream in the ‘bootroom’ of St Joseph’s. That one gesture alone was sufficient to bond our friendship for life.
Hurricane Debbie hit the West of Ireland on September 16, 1961. We were just back from our summer holidays. It began as a tropical wave off the coast of Africa, gathering huge momentum as it stormed a route right through the Atlantic Ocean. Froth from the waves blew on to the windowsills of St Joseph’s and the windows rattled so loudly we feared they would break as we lay in our beds. We were sent to bed early that evening. Newspaper reports told of 11 deaths in Ireland and locally, thatched roofs were lifted and a trail of visible damage lay in Debbie’s wake.
Boarding school life, however, cosseted us from the world stage in those days. Our world was of the day-to-day. I loved the singing, the dancing and the fun. I laboured at the study, the lessons and the class. Standards were very high in Spanish Point. Expectations were of ‘calls to training’, ‘junior ex’ and ‘Sion Hill’. All subjects were learned through Irish, even Latin, and a lot was learned by heart. Irish did bring me to Arranmore off the coast of Donegal in the summer of my middle grade year. I stayed with the Gallagher family, I remember.
Life as a boarder taught us a lot. We learned about responsibility, about accountability and about teamwork long before they were as popular as they are now. We quickly became independent and self-reliant, maybe even before our time. We got every opportunity to study, provided one didn’t get up to mischief, as I did sometimes. But mischief aside, something more profound was happening almost imperceptibly to me. Little did I know, when I travelled from Castleconnell to the school for the first time, the impact it was going to have on my life.
I did have some regrets. We lost out on precious years with our parents, brothers and sisters at a most impressionable time. I lost out on the friends I made in national school in Castleconnell. I remember going home at Christmas actually feeling shy and a bit like a stranger. Somehow my new-found experience created a divide that I somehow never fully crossed again. In my fourth year in school I picked up a pamphlet and read the words ‘Do not retain anything of yourself for yourself in order that you may be received by Him who has totally given Himself for you’. That was it. There was no further searching, digging or doubting. It wasn’t all plain sailing but the map of my life as a Poor Clare nun was unfolding before my own very eyes.
The quote I had retained so clearly in my head were the words of St Francis. I didn’t even know it then. Years later, I read his sentiments echoed by St Clare – ‘Love Him with all your heart, who for the sake of your love has given Himself totally’. I was smitten. They were the first of many inspired words that have given meaning to my life of complete purpose. God’s master plan sometimes makes us smile. The Poor Clare Order came to Ennis in 1958, the same year I went to Spanish Point. My love of nature, I was later to realise, mirrored that of Francis and Clare. Looking back, I can now see how all the apparent unconnected thoughts and events came together so beautifully to create the joyous tapestry of my monastic life.
Monastic life is where I truly feel at home. Sitting on the rocks during school term, looking out to sea or paddling ankle-deep (only) in the cool seawater, I knew I was called to be close to God and nature. Daily mass in the convent chapel brought me an awareness of a very special grace. I must confess, however, to being well tested on the very first night I entered the Poor Clares when music from Paddy Con’s dance hall in Ennis drifted through the cloister windows. The pang eventually eased with the music.
My heart bursts with gratitude today. I thank God for my family, my friends, my community and the wonderful people of the county and the country who so lovingly support us and help us to live this precious life. The same heart still pulses with gratitude when I reflect on school times. In Spanish Point, we were gently taught the values of life. We were encouraged to be honourable, courteous and thoughtful of others and to practice integrity. We were encouraged to attend daily mass and to know and experience the unquestionable power of prayer. I will forever hold five years of happy school memories lightly and tenderly in my heart.
The book, edited by Anne Jones, features 38 former pupils and teachers, representing the eight decades of the school’s existence. It will be launched on Saturday, February 27 at a function at the Armada Hotel, Spanish Point.