'and, when he shall die - Take him and cut him out in little stars And he will make theface of Heaven sofine, That at all the world will he in love with night. ' These words from Shakespeare's tragedy of Romeo and Juliet are how many of us will remember Denis O'Sullivan who died just before Christmas in the shadow of centenary year. They were quoted by the homilist at his Funeral Mass in Dualla Church. The preacher saw a place amongst the stars for his life-long friend, Denis O'Sullivan of the Buildings, Ballinure. "Larger than Life" is a phrase that is used frequently, but it was never more apt than in Denis' case. He was a born leader in Ballinure where I grew up, a towering figure with a huge personality, which singled Denis out of any group of people. He figured prominently in the social, political and agricultural circles of his time. The ill-fated Juliet of our opening lines, would probably have fared a lot better with our own Buildings Romeo who was undoubtedly tc the manor born! But then poor Juliet would have had lots of competition from would-be Juliets from Ballinure and its surrounds and more especially from the scheming Mother's-in-law to be with their eyes firmly fixed on the Buildings. But that was all before Joan Fanning of Shanballa entered the scenario! Ach sin sceal eile! The Cross of Ballinure: My memories of Denis O'Sullivan really begin in Ballinure, the village in South Tipperary where I was born and raised. The Cross was the focal point of the village, it was the axis around which our lives revolved, our exit to the outside world and the forum where men gathered in the evenings to discuss politics and horses, the price of cattle and pigs, the weather and the crops. They gathered at Din Dwyer's frontage and across from them, on the windowsill of Bulfin's, sat the three patriarchal figures, Mickey Bulfin, George Tutty (who was coachman to the Armitages of the Big House) and Joe Max, the local Blacksmith. Whilst the adults engaged in their deliberations, we children played hand-ball against the smooth surface of Mick Dwyer's store or skittles on the nearby plain patch where we awaited the arrival of our man of the hour, Denis O'Sullivan. We revered Denis as someone who came down to our level and told us stories of bygone days, eerie stories of ghosts and banshees and most of all, his own personal memories of the Troubles as a nine year old. He told us of Mickey Bulfin and his family having to get out of their house at three hours notice to make way for over fifty Black and Tans who occupied the premises for four months. At the same time there were twenty RIC men in the Barracks across the road. He remembered the Black and Tans playing soccer at the crossroads and was really chuffed when they sent the nine year old to retrieve the ball from a nearby paddock. He never told us if he had accepted a reward for his efforts. Brother against Brother: Then came the truce and the fratricidal Civil war that followed! "It is all terribly sad", Lady Gregory wrote in her diary in June 1922. A Tan stepping on to a boat at Kingstown, soon to be re-named Dun Laoghaire, is reported to have shouted to the crowd, "So long, I'll be back again to separate you!" For Denis, Gaellc games offered opportunities to put aside the horrors and the venom of the Civil War. Hurling and Gaelic football, which had made a vital contribution to national self-determination, were unifying forces in a divided country. In the heady days of the sixties, Denis and I would make our annual pilgrimage to Croke Park, picking up Tom Hayes of the Middlepiece on the way. I can still see Denis on his feet in the Hogan Stand, egging on Jimmy Doyle, Liam Devaney and Donie Nealon as they wove their way through rugged Wexford and Kilkenny defences before spread-eagling Ollie Walsh in the Kilkenny net. Magic moments that were re-captured and re-lived that night in the weekly card-game in the Buildings. Of course there were other occasions when we came home with our tails between our legs, such as the day when John Doyle was seeking his ninth All-Ireland medal and Wexford put a stop to his gallop. Of course I was blamed for this mishap. Fr. Jack Graydon was saying the nine-thirty Mass in the Cathedral so that I could get away to Croke Park. Prayers of the Faithful had just entered the Mass Liturgy and before going out on the altar, Fr. Jack turned to me with a sly grin and said "That he may get his ninth - Lord Hear Us!" This story spread as far as John himself. On a recent visit to hospital, John looked at me from his sick bed, grinned and said "Remember the time you done me out of that ninth All-lreland medal!" Denis' interests in sports were many and varied, from his first experience as a nine year old playing soccer at Ballinure crossroads to his final weeks of life when he followed the fortunes of Loughmore in winning the Munster Club Championship. He went to Musgrave Park in Cork to see the All Blacks and later exulted over Munster's historic victory over the visiting New Zealanders. In an interview with Graham Mourey - the captain of the All Blacks, Mourney said that he didn't relish going to the local creamery in Tararaki and getting a roasting from his Irish colleagues in the farming community. When eventually he returned to New Zealand, he was confronted by the O'Briens, Flemings and Walshes sporting car stickers which read "Munster 13, All Blacks 0". The Creamery Forum: Like New Zealand, the Creamery Forum was a forum where the farming community gathered in the days before bulk buying and there was nothing Denis liked better than to natter with his friends and colleagues. He was chairman of Knockavardagh, Killenaule and Ballinure creameries and he was also the first chairman of all the united creameries of South Tipperary. The creamery was a great place for meeting people. Take the Higginses for example. Tom and Mary Higgins of Colleagh, they and their ten children eked out an existence on just over three acres of marshy land on the fringe of the Bog of Allen. My father used often recall the day the Higginses came to his school in Ballytarsna. All nine of them walked across the bog in transfer from the Ballinure academy. When my father asked them to state how many of them were there and asked for their names "Well, Sir"! said Paddy after a quick survey of his siblings, "There's meself, thats wan and there's Jack and Chris and Jimmy, thats how many that's four". He continued ticking them off with his fingers. "Then there's the three girls, Ciss, Kitty and Lizzy. That's - again - he silently computed - that's seven! That |eaves only Mick and Dan, isn't that nine? Sir!" It is Higgins" my father replied, "Any more?". Well, we have another on the road", said Paddy. My father always maintained that the Higgins pupils had a higher IQ than the average family in the school and that it was a sin crying out to Heaven for vengeance that they were denied the education that would have lifted them out of the poverty trap. He used to rage at the inactivity for close on fifty years of self govemment, especially when he saw Paddy Higgins at election time canvassing for the politicians who denied him and his family the education which was their human right. Not one of the Higginses ever emigrated. Only three of them married and now there in none of them left. They missed out on Donagh O'Malley and his free Post Primary education for all with free transport. A Prince of Politicians: Denis O'Sullivan during his lifetime, unlike many of his modern counterparts, adorned the role of the politician. Is it any wonder that a politician of the status of General Richard Mulcahy, Minister for Defence in the first Free State Government and Army Chief of Staff, should recognise Denis' unique qualities and pay a special visit to the Buiidings. Coupled with Dick Mulcahy, I would include a friend of Denis, John Maher of whom Shakespeare wrote: "The friends thou hast and their adoption tried, Grapple them to your heart with hoops of steel". The Sunday Night Card Game: Next to sport, the card game on Sunday night was everything to Denis. It was that indefinable thing Muintearas. It brought people together - first of all his wife Joan - the true love of his life. Joan was from Shanballa in the neighbouring parish of Moycarkey. One night around the card table, Denis was about to shuffle the cards when Joan suddenly said to him, "Denis stop shuffling the cards and listen to me, Denis, there's not a day passes that I don't pray to God that he'll take you before he takes me, because if he takes me first I don't know in God's name, what is going to become of you". The Lord in his own good time took Joan first. Denis would outlive her for eighteen years. His sister Ciss and her husband Con Dowling and his brother Pat were the inner circle of the nine. The others just came in order of their coming. His close fnends were Tom Bulfin, Jack Fenton, Frs. Tom Hogan and Jimmy Feehan and Paddy Higgins. On the night that they brought his body to the Buildings for the last time, his sons Larry and Eddie took a count on all that was left of the card school - and the eyes of all present turned to me. I was Oisin in Dhiadh na Feinne. The Family Man: In order of their birth the children of Denis and Joan have been a tower of strength to them, Larry, Eddie, Teresa, Will and Paddy. Each of them has played his/her part in honouring Denis but each of them has asked me to pay a tribute to Eddie and Sheila. They were a God send to him, as were their children. What began as a quartet of Joyful Mysteries had now mushroomed into a veritable dynasty of grandchildren and great grandchildren. Like the patriarchs of old, he has seen his children to the third and fourth generation. A Haven of Rest: Denis spent the best part of four years in Acorn Lodge Nursing Home. During part of the past year I was privileged to spend four weeks in that Haven of rest which is Acorn Lodge. I have witnessed the caring love which Denis received from Mary O'Connor and her wonderful staff. When the mortal remains of Denis were taken to Dualla Church for the final obsequies, the Matron and staff of Acorn Lodge were there in large numbers and seldom have I witnessed such palpable and heartfelt grief. Thank God for the gift of tears. I am reminded of Shakespeare's words at the death of Hamlet. As Horabo cradles the dying Hamlet in his arms, his words could well apply to the death of Denis O'Sullivan - "Now cracks a noble heart, Goodnight, sweet prince, and flights Jangels sing thee to rest". Courtesy of the Tipperary Star 12 January 2008 Tweet

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