My first interaction with the American political and military machine came not long after my fifth birthday.
For a few months, the quiet skies above my hometown of Ballinrobe were shattered by the presence of men in long overcoats and expensive sunglasses. Back then, Mayo didn’t do designer eyewear or expensive raincoats. It didn’t do big green helicopters either, but I can still recall looking out the school window as these stunning pieces of hardware flew low above our town and down onto the Green, the big public park which lay at the back of my house.
The visit of Richard Nixon to Ireland in 1970 is one of the great forgotten Irish presidential visits; dwarfed by the emotion and protests of the Kennedy and Reagan visits. First Lady Pat Nixon had her ancestral home in the farmlands outside Ballinrobe and while her husband fulfilled obligations in the capital, she was to come west and sample tea served in delicate china, and eat even more delicate ham sandwiches in a country kitchen.
Princess Grace had driven through our town in 1961 en route to Newport; but the Nixon visit gave the town a collective boost. Stages were erected, streets were cleaned, and we were all given little star spangled banners and tricolours to wave enthusiastically at the petite Mrs Nixon. The school band played, the town’s dignitaries gathered to pay homage. For a week beforehand, the military helicopters came and went; and on the day while Mrs Nixon was out shaking hands in the place her ancestors had left over a century before, some of us were given a quick spin in a chopper.
Up we went, rising above the trees, seeing the stretch of the River Robe and the lakes and the Partry Mountains away to the north. It took a spin over the streets for a few minutes and then we were brought back down to earth. An hour later, they were gone again and to this day, a US military chopper has not landed in Ballinrobe, even though Ballina got its fair share of them two years ago when Joe Biden came west.
Because of the many familial and commercial and cultural entanglements we have with the US, there has always been a fascination with its political machinations, right from the Kennedy era, through to this week, when we watch with bated breath the choices of the American people.
By the time we next speak, the voting in the US presidential election will be complete; the implications will be becoming clearer; the consequences will be mapped out, and the transition to a new President will start to progress.
I’m just back from the US, staying just around the corner from Times Square which contrary to Donald Trump’s claims did not seem to be overrun by Venezuelan crime gangs. In my time there, I got to meet many Irishmen and women who surprisingly have an admiration for Trump. In fact, much more than gave their backing to Harris. I am sure too that even by this time next week, the wranglings over who won will be continuing.
We might bemoan the loss of civil rights if one or the other candidates is to prevail, but then it is hard to align that with the human rights of all the innocents being killed in the hostilities in the Middle East at the moment, and wonder if this great western democracy to whom we all look to do the right thing is doing enough of the right thing to stop this.
It is a depressing time for the world at the moment, a Hobson’s choice in every corner. There is a stress about it all, as we wonder what will be the outcome of the poll and how it will impact, not only on ourselves, but on the more vulnerable caught in the political and actual crossfire.
In a month’s time, we will be going to the polls ourselves in Ireland, and even with that prospect, there is an apathy among voters. Perhaps it is only among the media and the candidates that there is an appetite for an election before Christmas.
The events of the last five years have damaged our faith in the old certainties...and alas, backwards seems to be the trending trajectory.
