Michael (Mick) Mooney, Ashfield, Ballickmoyler, Co Laois, who passed away peacefully at his home, surrounded by his loving family, on Monday, March 19 had been in failing health since October of last year.
The Funeral Mass of Mick, who was born on July 20th, 1933 at Sidegate, Moneenroe in Co Kilkenny, took place in the Sacred Heart Church, Arles on Wednesday morning, March 21.
Mick was a hard-working family man with a warm and positive attitude to life. He had an incredibly sharp wit and ability to sum up a situation in a few short words.
The life and times of Mick were eloquently captured in great detail by his youngest son Edwin in the following eulogy.
Mick Mooney (1933–2018) – A Eulogy
Sidegate, Moneenroe and Cloneen – your territory from 1933.
Mother Mary Fleming, Father Pat Mooney, 9 hardy siblings – a loving and nurturing enclave.
Horse and cart, milking cows and saving hay. The bushman, the scythe, the billhook.
Hurling, football, table tennis and billiards. Forehand, backhand, smash – Badminton was his favourite or so I’m told.
Bagpipes, accordion, tin-whistle, mouth organ – a dab hand at them all.
Greyhounds, terriers and pups. Hunting for foxes and badgers after Sunday mass – ‘ah different times’.
Work boots on at 14. Off to Flemings Fireclay on your bicycle.
Clay pipes, gullies and Armstrong junctions – a master at his craft.
Hard work and devilment working on the loft.
The bossman Bernard Wheatley, the bossman’s daughter – Kathleen.
Kathleen, Kathleen, Kathleen, Kathleen, Kathleen, Kathleen…
Dance halls, picture halls, bicycles, courting and the Brídógs.
Mick and Kathleen, you started the voyage.
Home in 5F The Swan.
Work hard, save hard, buy your own place – Ashfield in ’67.
Cows, calves and plenty of hardship.
Thatch covered by sheet iron – a fire hazard everytime.
The trowel, the hawk and the spirit level. No problem, new house, new home!
7 th of the 7 th ’77 – a farm accident. A hard knock, a low blow. As he would say himself ‘get back on your feet’ –
‘it’s well to be so well’ – ‘God is good’.
Cows, calves and plenty of good times.
Son Micko, Grandson Aaron, the interest in farming continues – important stuff.
The open fire, the range and the stove – smoke, smoke and more smoke.
The spade, the hoe and the watering can. Potatoes, cabbage, carrots – we never realized how good we had it.
Morris Minor, Ford Anglia or Focus.
Make, model – new or used was not a problem.
Handbreaks, exhausts and room for 9 – were often a problem.
A boot big enough for the shopping, the sheep, the calves, a weanling or two – were often a bigger problem.
Sitting in the passenger seat was always a problem.
Roundabouts, stop-signs, indicators and seatbelts – a complete mystery.
Apple tart, currant cake, ‘a pudding for two’, a sweet tooth was his only downfall!
A million cups of tea, that’s 2 million spoons of sugar – but who’s counting.
Large ones, small ones or smokes – were never his thing.
Kilkenny in hurling, Laois in football, Arles-Kilcruise for the chaps, The Railyard back in the day. ’Rise a row or we’re bet!’
News and weather – as often as humanly possible.
Sport – of any kind.
GAA on TG4 – ‘Who’s playing today?’ ‘Turn it up anyway’.
Volume up to the max – in all cases.
Mass on a Sunday, Holy Hour on a Monday, hymns in English, Irish and Latin with the Rosary everyday.
A gift of deep faith cherished from an early age.
7 children – 5 boys, 2 girls, 21 grandchildren. A lasting legacy.
Mick and Kathleen, you certainly have your own crew.
An ordinary man. Extraordinary memories.
Rest in peace Mick. Rest in peace
‘I say I heard you the first time’.
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