Telling our children the truth about gay marriage

The renowned stylist Gok Wan was on television over the weekend. As soon as he appeared, my nine-year-old son asked me if the man on the telly was gay.
 
I hesitated for a moment before responding, truthfully, that as far as I knew he was. What had made him think that?

"He seems very happy," came the reply, at which point my seven-year joined in the conversation.

"Well, maybe that's why he's called gay because gay also means happy," he reasoned.

Children today are no fools. I had once explained to mine that the word gay meant happy. They quickly informed me that gay also means a man being in love with another man or a woman being in love with a woman. 

Sure all they have to do these days is look at an episode of 'The Simpsons' to hear the word bandied about. That's why I made the decision to cut the pretence. By trying to 'protect' them from the reality of the word, was I fostering prejudice by giving the impression that there was something wrong with same sex relationships?

When I was growing up the word gay was used in a pejorative way. If something wasn't good, it was gay. If you didn't like something, it was gay. If somebody was different in any way, they were gay. It was a word favoured by the schoolyard bully. You got a hiding off them if you were deemed to be gay in any of its guises.

Ireland has belatedly grown up since then and some of us like to think we are more liberal and worldly now. We now realise that gay men and women are to be found in the most prominent positions. We have gay business people, gay television presenters, gay sports stars and gay politicians.
 
Many of them rightly choose to wear their sexuality openly and proudly. It's there for all of us to see. So what exactly are we protecting our children from by telling them that gay simply means happy?

In my view it is far better for a parent to teach their child the values of tolerance, inclusiveness and diversity; that to discriminate against a person on the grounds of their sexuality is as wrong as being racist.

The debate on marriage equality has got off to an unsavoury start after the Panti Bliss/Iona Institute affair (not that they're having an affair, just in case their lawyers are reading this!). Our children are going to hear a lot of talk about gay rights on television and on the radio in the coming months. The issue will be impossible to avoid. Inevitably there will be innocent questions asked. Whatever side of the debate you're on, at least try to give your kids a positive answer.

Kenneth Egan is a champion choice by FG

I was always a bit suspicious of political parties recruiting celebrity candidates in the run up to elections.

On the face of it, it smacks of desperation. Why should a big name have the right to serve as a public representative on the basis that they are well known? What about the hard-working party activists who have cut their teeth in political activism at grassroots level over the years?

These are the men and women putting leaflets through your doors at election time or organising local fundraisers for the party. Some of them may harbour political ambitions of their own and have a justifiable expectation that they can put themselves forward at a selection convention.

There have been some worthy celebrity candidates over the years, chief among them RTE's George Lee who romped home in the Dublin South By-Election in 2009. Unfortunately, it seemed that Lee had unrealistic expectations in terms what he could achieve as a TD and it wasn't long before he quit and returned to Montrose.

Not all celebrity candidates - despite their impeccable credentials - connect with the electorate. Chernobyl children's champion Adi Roche didn't do the business as Labour's nominee in the 1997 Presidential Election. Similarly, that party's decision to put former RTE journalist Orla Guerin on the European Elections ticket in 1994 didn't pay off, largely due to the resistance of Labour's officially selected candidate, the formidable Bernie Malone.

Celebrity candidates are back in the news. Olympic boxing hero Kenny Egan is to run for Fine Gael in the Clondalkin ward in the local elections in May. I am largely supportive of this decision for a number of reasons.

•Kenny Egan (centre) pictured with Paddy Barnes and the late Darren Sutherland after their victories in the 2008 Olympics. Photo by Darren Kinsella

I don't believe that big name candidates have the right to represent us in the Dail without having first served as a democratically elected councillor at local level. Many of our senior politicians started as members of a local authority and celebrities should be no different.

The fact that Egan is willing to stand in front of the electorate at ground floor level is admirable in itself. If elected, he will have to sit through mundane meetings about planning applications, road improvement schemes and council budgets. If he has the stomach for this, he may decide to put himself forward as a candidate in a future general election.

Moreover, Egan will be standing in an area that has seen its fair share of social problems, where young people are often exposed to drugs and crime. Many of them have zero interest in politics and feel alienated, disillusioned and disinterested.

To see a sporting role model such as Kenneth Egan stand for election may encourage younger people to engage with politics and local issues. Egan has also openly spoken about his former battle with alcohol and is happy to share his experiences with local youth.

Kenny Egan is proof positive that you can overcome the obstacles life throws at you. This is a powerful message to be able to convey to the youth of Clondalkin and young people at large. As celebrity candidates go, Egan is a solid and sensible choice.

The scene inside the Stardust as fire took hold

Tonight marks the 34rd anniversary of the Stardust fire. In this edited extract from the book 'They Never Came Home - the Stardust Story', we recall the scene inside the doomed nightclub as the blaze took hold.

•The Stardust nightclub pictured after the fire

The excitement in the Stardust was reaching fever pitch. Hundreds had gathered around the dance floor to see who would win the disco dancing competition. Albert Buckley joined his sister-in-law, Christine, on the floor. Together they watched Albert's younger brother, Errol, going through his moves. He was getting the loudest cheers from the crowd and easily stood out from the other competitors taking part in the final.

Just after 1.30am, DJ Danny Hughes stopped the music momentarily to announce that a boy and girl had been selected as the winners. The Buckley brothers were ecstatic when Errol was announced as the best of the men. The girl chosen from the three dozen hopefuls was 15-year-old Paula McDonald from Coolock.

Errol had brought the house down with his fantastic dance routine to the Patrick Fernandez disco hit, 'Born to be Alive'. He punched the air as he stepped up onto the stage to be presented with his prize by Hughes - a £25 K-Tel record voucher. The winning couple were invited to perform a victory dance on the stage and the large crowd of onlookers gathered to clap along to the song. Another DJ, Colm O Briain, took the microphone and encouraged the audience to join in on the dance floor. Hundreds took him up on the offer and danced to what was to be one of the last songs of the night. It was now 1.41am.

At the western side of the ballroom approximately fifty people were sitting or standing around five tables. Behind them was a roller blind made from a PVC-coated, polyester fabric. Split into five sections, the curtain was lowered to partition off an alcove of banked seating stretching to and along the side wall. The west alcove itself was the smaller of two such sections in the the Stardust. It measured over seventeen metres in length and ten metres in depth. There were eight tiers of seats, with each tier containing fifteen units of double seats. Some of the regular patrons of the Stardust remember being surprised when they arrived at the disco that night to find that the west alcove was sealed off and the larger north alcove was open. Usually the reverse was the case, with the north alcove only opened if the numbers warranted it.

Some of the people in this area were standing on tables and chairs to get a better view of the disco competition. A couple of girls stood on the ledge where the curtain came to the floor and were resting their backs against the partition. While the attention of most people was directed towards the dance floor, those standing against the curtain started to notice the smell of something burning. Linda Bishop was sitting at the first table in front of the blind, next to the main bar. As she was watching the end of the competition, she noticed a sudden rise in temperature. This surprised her because she had spent most of the night feeling cold. She mentioned to her friend, Sandra Hatton, that she thought the management had switched on the central heating. They both wondered why anyone might have done that, considering it was close to the end of the night. The girls shrugged their shoulders and got up to dance to one of their favourite songs, 'Lorraine', by Bad Manners.

Those remaining at the tables also started to smell smoke and they, too, felt a surge in temperature. Moments later, others sitting or standing in the area noticed a glow behind the curtain. Jacqueline McCarthy, from Kilbarrack, had just returned to her seat when she caught a strong smell of smoke. Suddenly she felt a blast of heat. More curious than her friends, Jacqueline lifted up the curtain beside her to glance underneath. What she saw filled her with instant dread. She ran past groups of people and rushed towards the main door. She grabbed the arm of a bouncer standing inside the foyer and shouted at him: "They've started a fire up in the corner."

More people peered behind the curtain as the glow behind it intensified. On top of three seats in tiers seven, eight and nine of row A, they could see a small fire. One girl described it as "quite small". An eyewitness later told police that the back of just one seat was on fire and "it could easily have been put out if somebody had thrown a coat over it". Gerard Quinn said he thought there was something in the shape of a coat lying on the seat in flames. By now, most of the people sitting in this area could smell what they would later describe as "burning tyres". While hundreds still danced away to the music, people standing at the side of the dance floor sensed a commotion and turned around, thinking that a fight had broken out behind them.

On stage, the assistant DJ was sifting through the record collection to select the final track of the night. He put a popular Adam and the Ants song on the turntable. The attention of some of the dancers facing the stage was now drawn towards the curtained-off area to the right-hand side. At first, all they noticed was a small flickering glow behind the curtain. However, as they turned around to get a better look, some light smoke appeared to slowly rise over the partition and drift across the ceiling. Most of them thought it was just a special disco effect that the DJ had set off to coincide with the end of the competition. They ignored it and continued on dancing.

•'They Never Came Home - the Stardust Story', by Neil Fetherstonhaugh and Tony McCullagh, was originally published in 2001 and was reprinted as an updated edition in 2006. The book was adapted for the award-winning RTE two-part drama, 'Stardust'. Limited copies still available on Amazon http://www.amazon.com/They-Never-Came-Home-Stardust/dp/1903582636

©Neil Fetherstonhaugh and Tony McCullagh

Why I was wrong about Garth Brooks

In the interests of full disclosure I should first declare that I am a self-confessed music snob. I'm of a generation that revered the classic double albums of the 1970s and treated the release of a David Bowie or Pink Floyd record as if it were some sort of second coming. I'm a handy man to have on your team in a pub quiz, if only for my encyclopedic knowledge of music trivia. In short, I'm a bit of a bore; an anorak, if you will.

•Garth Brooks pictured during his 1997 Croke Park show. Photo by Darren Kinsella

Music snobs have a nasty habit of looking down on the personal tastes of others and I'm no exception. For two decades I have derided the rise and rise of the boy bands, from Take That and Boyzone to Westlife and One Direction. I also despise musicals, be they of the classic Andrew Lloyd Webber variety or the risible 'Mama Mia' kind.

Last month, the world's forgotten musical cowboy rode into town on his trusty steed (well, it was a private jet actually). Garth Brooks was on the comeback trail. And where better to kick things off than Croker, the scene of his triumphant concerts in 1997. I struggled to remember more than two of his songs - the jokey one and the serious one. I almost recalled a third before realising that 'Achy Breaky Heart' wasn't actually his song. But you can understand my mistake.

The sight of Garth back on our shores triggered traumatic flashbacks of line-dancing, the evil first cousin of country and western music. Back in the late '90s we were on the cusp of economic salvation, courtesy of Bertie Ahern and his merry band. Peace in our time was just one year away in Northern Ireland. Things were looking grand. Sure what could possibly go wrong?

We are older now; hopefully a bit wiser as well. Fianna Fail helped screw the country and most of us can't afford the price of the bus fare to Croker, never mind a concert ticket. I smugly predicted that Garth Brooks would struggle to fill the stadium for one night; two at a push.

But then something extraordinary happened. So-called friends started to express their love for the country crooner on social media sites and bemoaned their failure to secure a ticket. Honestly, you think you know someone. It was like suddenly finding out that your mates had been members of a secret sect for all these years. Friends in low places indeed.

As I write, the feeding frenzy to secure tickets for a fourth concert on July 28 has just ended and a fifth date has been announced. A fifth! How foolish do I look now? I had posted a snide comment on Facebook just a few weeks ago that Garth Brooks was "music for people who don't like music". My wife told me it was a disgraceful thing to say. She had seen Garth Brooks chatting to one of the TV3 Xpose girls and he seemed like a lovely fella.

And therein lies his appeal. He is a very affable, likable, inoffensive chap. He also comes across as humble. We like that too. But more importantly, he likes us. Irish people like to be liked, particularly by Americans, be they presidents, actors or country music superstars. For some reason it makes us feel good about ourselves. Perhaps it's our post-colonial insecurity or something.

And if going to Croker to see a 51-year old in a stetson perform his back catalogue helps lift the mist of post-Celtic Tiger misery, then who am I to judge? Just don't expect to see me there.