flashback

Saturday 14th July 2015.
Out of the blue, Byrno the artist contacted me this morning to meet for coffee.
Haven't heard from him for a year.
We met up in the Costa Cafe at the White Water Centre.
The news today was that his father had died. Their relationship hadn't been great.
The father had been committed to a care facility against his will fourteen months ago. The justification the family used was that they were afraid he might strike the mother.
I told Byrno today that regardless of how bad he thought the relationship was, losing his father would be a big deal.
Byrno said: "I'm over it."
"No," I said, "you're in the middle of it. You are on a pilgrimage whether you like it or not."
We talked about God for a bit.
A year ago he'd insisted he didn't believe. Now he was more open to the possibility.
Suffering does that.
As does the awareness of evil in the world.
We start to wake up.
At one point Byrno said: "The young people aren't being taught religion in the schools. They need something. Maybe philosophy could do it."
I thought this was a quirky enough reflection from a guy who says he's an atheist.
While we talked the Costa Cafe swirled with life.
One of the White Water Centre security men strolled in and out of the cafe a few times.
He stayed in the environs for about half an hour.
Every few minutes he unleashed a few sonic whoops from a hand held alarm device which he held in the palm of his right hand. He seemed most amused by the process.
I wondered did Byrno notice.
I mentioned the harassment I'd been dealing with.
Byrno said: "Have you still got that website?"
I said: "I have."
He said: "Take it down."
I said: "I can't do that."
He said: "James it's your own fault. If you want to fight crime, join the police. You can't fight those guys on your own. It's not your war."
I grinned and said: "Right this moment we're like Saint Thomas Moore and John Howard talking about Henry The Eighth. John Howard is warning Saint Thomas that the anger of the prince is death. Saint Thomas is saying, why then the only difference between you and I, is that I shall die today and you shall die tomorrow. It is my war Byrno. And it's your war. All you nice family guys think you can escape by keeping your heads down. Oh they'll probably kill me first. But they'll get round to you. And before that they'll addict your kids to their drug poisons. Or they'll stalk your kids for sport. Or they'll kill your kids at a whim. I assure you this is your war."
He said: "Shut down your website. It's all you can do."
I said: "And if you created a work of art with one of your paintings, I mean something you knew you had been born to do, something really good, and then some drug gang, or IRA gang, or deviil worship gang, or corrupt cop or serial killer Larry Murphy, or some other such piece of crap, came along and told you to destroy it, would you do it? Would you give in to them?"
He said: "Yes I would. If my  life or my family's life was at stake, I would."
I said: "I don't believe you."
Of course the real question should have been, would he do what they said if they told him to destroy not one work of art but everything he'd ever painted over the past twenty years.