"The 18th century, English lexicographer, critic and essayist, Dr Samuel Johnson used to tell his readers that 'The love of life was a prerequisite to the vigorous prosecution of any undertaking.' My late father used to say, 'If you do anything, son, always do it well or not at all and you will feel much better for it.'
I know for a fact that my dad who left school and started work at the age of 13 years in County Kilkenny, Ireland never did read Johnson. I doubt he even heard of the man, but it just goes to show that it doesn't take the wit of a scholar or the language of a wordsmith to say something plainly and say it well. It was as if my father inwardly knew that simplicity is the ultimate form of sophistication and that there was no point in using big words for small matters which can be plainly spoken.
My father was one of the most modest men who ever came out of Ireland. He was a man who believed in work more than education and the only book I ever saw him read was a cowboy book. Like his favourite film star, John Wayne, he never apologised (seeing it as a sign of weakness), and his two most common quotes were from two films he loved; 'Custer's Last Stand' and 'The Quiet Man'. He'd frequently remind his children in Custer's own words, 'The first is first and the second is nobody!' His quote from 'The Quiet Man' film (that has been compulsory Christmas viewing in every Forde household ever since), were the words spoken by John Wayne to Maureen O'Hara when he brings his brother-in-law home for an evening meal towards the end of the film. John Wayne enters the cottage, flings his hat across the room and bellows towards his wife for an Irish brew, 'The tae, woman! Go mek the tae!'These are the words that my father, along with every other Irish man who saw the film, regularly tells his wife to do after he returns home from a hard day's work!
I was baptised and registered as William after my maternal grandfather, but I was always called Billy by every family member in both my childhood and adult years of life. My father insisted on calling me by that name in honour of his brother Billy, and the title stuck. I am known today to my friends as Bill, and occasionally, I will be given my Sunday name of William, but only my family members and my wife call me 'Billy'. Interesting, but when I'm in the company of my brothers and sisters, my wife will call me Billy, as they do, but when we are outside the company of my siblings, Sheila calls me Bill.
My father rarely expressed his view outside the home. Where 'conversation' was concerned, he held the view that most present company would be better entertained if they listened more to what the other person had to say before speaking themselves! I suppose that he discovered early on in his life that even a fish wouldn't show itself up if it kept its mouth shut. One of the few sayings I can recall my father telling me was, 'Don't ever argue with a fool, son, and if you do, then make sure that they aren't doing the same thing as you!'
At the age of 11 years, I was a very good footballer who was advanced enough in my skill on the football field to play in the adult team at 'St. Patrick's Roman Catholic School' in Heckmondwike. This meant that my teammates playing alongside me were boys who were three and four years older than me. At that time I genuinely believed that I was one of the most aspiring footballers on the planet, I thought it to be only a matter of time before I'd find myself in great demand by the professional clubs across the land. Little did I know at the time, that six months later, while playing football on the Third Avenue on Windybank Estate where I lived, I'd be run over by a large wagon, unable to walk for three years and never play football again.
Being the eldest of seven children from a materially poor family, we couldn't afford to buy the new green and white checked team shirt when it was offered for sale by the school. It cost two pounds and ten shillings. That amount was a quarter of my father's weekly wage down the pit. I knew that the team shirt might as well have had a price tag of £50 on it as I would never be able to afford one. So, I did what any other poor boy in my circumstances would have done; I got a clean green t-shirt to wear and prepared to set off for school.
As I went out the door that morning, dad called me back and said,' Put this on son. It is green and white. It'll be a bit big for you, but it's better than that old t-shirt you've got to wear.' That was the very first time I learned that in his early twenties, my father had played professional football for the county of Kilkenny where he was born, before going on to play for his country. He had played in the Irish National soccar squad and had even captained the National 'B' Team on a couple of occasions.
Although the shirt my dad had given me to wear that day stretched all the way down past my knees, I was never more proud as I was that day to have played in my father's football shirt; the very shirt which he had played for Ireland in! I think St. Patrick's RC School lost 7-1 that day, but to tell the truth, it didn't matter; nothing mattered. Nothing could spoil that day; one of the most memorable days in my life!
In the words of Aesop, 'When all is said and done, more is said than done!' and through his simple action, my father made me the happiest boy in the school soccer team that day and the proudest of all Irish sons. God bless you, Dad, I love you. Your eldest son, Billy." William Forde: December 1st, 2017.