The Pub on Trinity Street

By Steven S Walsky

Life is a series of days; sometimes the days we want to forget, remember us. January 30th, 1972 was a Sunday, and the Pub on Trinity Street, in the southern port city of Baltimore, Maryland, was open for business; playing host to the normal Sunday in winter gathering. At approximately four o'clock Greenwich Mean Time, 3,278.56 miles across the Atlantic from the Pub, in a place referred to in the press as Londonderry, Northern Ireland, shots were fired. The news of Bloody Sunday reached the Pub one hour and fifteen minutes later. The lights would stay on long after Sam yelled 'last call'; with a handful of patrons now lost in thought; silently contemplating their beers. Just no one could have known how long before the glow from those lights would go out in the lives of some of the contemplators.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven S Walsky
• Release date: Mar 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370798483

Steven S Walsky

The writings of Steven S. Walsky have been described as a ‘voice of the urban South’ flavored by his travels; ‘a painter with words'. In addition to novels, his short stories range from serious views of life to pure whimsy. Steve’s poetry is primarily free verse and free form. New short stories, poetry, and both serious and humorous writing support items (painting with words) are posted on his Wordpress writing blog "Simplicity Lane". Steve has another WordPress blog, "Words to Love By"; inspirational thoughts on life and love as a Christian (personal quotes, poems, and photography). Steve can be reached through his two blogs, or directly at [e-mail].

Book preview

The Pub on Trinity Street

Life is a series of days; sometimes the days we want to forget, remember us.

By Steven S. Walsky

Copyright 2013 by Steven S. Walsky

Smashwords Edition

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The Pub on Trinity Street is a work of fiction; there was no Pub on Trinity Street, and the characters and the events perpetrated by and participated in by them are fictitious.

—////—

Chapter One

Gaven Divete liked to drink. His best mornings, afternoons, and evenings were in an establishment, drink in hand, and dispensing his viewpoints on subjects ranging from the price of coffee beans, to why dragonflies have problems reproducing in south London. Gaven Divete, pronounced de' vae', was, in the classical sense, an abstract mind lost in a world of drunk. And, as for the others, they were mere witnesses.

The assembled listeners would put up with Gaven because life is too short to pass up a fine Irish story, and Gaven could spin a tale with the best of them; even if he had never been to the Emerald Isle. Born and raised in East Rutherford, schooled at UCLA, married in New Mexico, divorced in New Jersey, and he would never see Ireland first hand. Let's face it, the closest Gaven would get to the ancestral homeland was a vacation brochure from the local AAA office; which he probably entered mistaking it for an AA meeting. The fake Irish brogue? The Charles Street Spotlighters.

Thus, on January 30, 1972 it was not unusual that we find Gaven, a regular patron, at The Pub on Trinity Street. Sitting next to him was Bill, another regular. It has been said that life is but a series of days; sometimes the days we want to forget, remember us. And Gaven was just the kind of antagonist those 'thankfully that was yesterday' days would require to remember Bill; however Bill is not aware of this as our story begins.

January 30th, in the Year of Our Lord One Thousand Nine Hundred and Seventy-Two, was a Sunday. The Pub, in the southern port city of Baltimore, Maryland, was open for business, playing host to the normal Sunday in winter gathering. A few dart players in the back; one or two alcoholics sequestered at the far end of the downstairs bar, addressing the numb from the cold with the numbing of the soul; and, Gaven, Bill, and three other regulars seated at the middle of the downstairs bar, caring less about the drinks, than someone to talk to. The Milwaukee Bucks would top the Baltimore Bullets 116 to 112; which meant the after game crowd would be arguing the outcome at the smaller upstairs bar, over pints and the smack-clang of the shuffleboard. Don McLean's song American Pie was in its third week as Billboard magazine's Hit 100 Number One. And the Sunday paper said that Steve McQueen was dating Ali MacGraw.

At approximately four o'clock Greenwich Mean Time, 3,278.56 miles across the Atlantic from the Pub on Trinity Street, in a place referred to in the papers as Londonderry, Northern Ireland, shots were fired, ending the quiet. Within 40 minutes, thirteen humans would be dead and fourteen would be injured; one to die later. The world would wait thirty-two years to hear that none of those killed were armed. However, the Lord Widgery Inquiry is future tense; as is the apology for the killings made by British Prime Minister David Cameron on June 15, 2010, What happened should never have happened.

The news of Bloody Sunday reached The Pub on Trinity Street one hour and fifteen minutes later. The lights would stay on long after Sam yelled 'last call'; with Gaven, Bill, and a handful of others lost in thought, silently contemplating their beers.

Just no one could have known how long before the glow from those lights would go out in the