What Eamon did

You never miss the water until the well runs dry, and you don’t miss Eamon Phoenix until he is no longer with us. His death has prompted a tidal wave of admiration for him and what he did for so many decades. And the suddenness of his demise has shaken many.

What was it about this mild-mannered man that attracted such attention and admiration? For a start, it was always clear that here was a gentleman and a gentle man. You would not find him locked in heated debate, you would not find him abrupt or dismissive, you would not find him other than generous with his time.

Like all good teachers, he knew how to make his subject understandable and appealing to ordinary people. Very often, in that slightly breathless way of his, he would throw in a detail about the appearance of a historical character, or something he/she had said on a particular occasion. He knew the power of story, and he could present a key moment in history in a way that engrossed those reading or listening to his words.

The thing that perhaps impressed me most was his ability to dance through historical issues in a way that offended no one – which is quite a feat in our own dear stateen. He presented the facts of situations, the words of historical figures, and left it to the listener to interpret what they’d heard and decide for themselves where applause or blame was merited.

History is an area that can guide us or gut us. It can lead us to build on what has gone before, or collapse  helpless under the crushing weight of past events. Eamon Phoenix never sugar-coated the past, but somehow managed to pass on his wonderful appetite for what had happened.

The history he presented had colour and style, even as his suits and ties had colour and style. It’s as if a light has gone out in NEI, and the landscape from now on will be that bit dimmer and grimmer without him.

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.