Late night thoughts in Lucca about Sinéad O’Connor

The sounds of Lucca woke me after what had been a poor night’s sleep. I don’t blame my fitful and interrupted sleep on Lucca; it’s simply how my nights are at this point in my life. The occasions when I manage to remain asleep for more than four or five consecutive hours are pretty rare.

When I wake during the night I do my best to fall back asleep, adjusting my covers, perhaps flipping the pillow to the cool side, maybe rolling over to my other side. If this fails to lull me back to sleep, I spend my time thinking.

Last night’s thoughts were about Sinéad O’Connor and the time I encountered her in NYC. It was weeks after she had appeared on SNL and torn the picture of the Pope apart and we both had gone to Sin-é to hear some music. Her presence in the small club created a buzz that could be heard despite her own silence. She departed midset and shortly afterwards I went outside for a breath of fresh air – or at least as fresh as it might be on the lower east side in the early 90s.

Sinéad was sitting alone on a stoop nearby, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. As a person who never has been comfortable or interested in approaching celebrities, I kept my distance not wanting to bother her. At one point, she looked my way and I smiled at her, trying to communicate my admiration and respect wordlessly. She gave me a small smile in return and then looked back down at the street in front of her.

More than anything, I wanted to ask her if she’d like to get a cup of tea. She looked like she needed something warm and comforting. Regrettably, I resisted my impulse and instead followed my creed of not approaching famous people. Instead I smiled her way again and reentered the club, leaving her once more alone.

I’ve thought of those moments many times in the decades since that brief encounter, just like I’ve thought of her brave action on SNL and her lyrics which remain stuck in my head all these years later, sometimes reappearing at specific instances.

As a person who frequently travels solo, I often hear “…you used to hold my hand when the plane took off…,” from The Last Day of Our Acquaintance when the plane on which I’m a passenger begins to gather speed on the runway for takeoff.

Sinéad also opened my eyes to the fact that America doesn’t have the monopoly on racism with her Black Boys on Mopeds. Oh, no, we imported that shit from England at this country’s very inception.

There was always something about You Cause as Much Sorrow that stimulated an array of emotions in me, somehow causing me to think of my forever absent father and the void which that created in my life. After years of hoping and wondering if I would ever meet him, the knowledge that he had died 5 years before I made contact with his our family left me sad in a new way. As this song reminded me, alive or dead, it hurt.

Sinéad O’Connor, from what I’ve read, lived a life filled with suffering and pain, creating lasting beauty while experiencing deep sorrows. I wish I had recognized her first to be a woman of my own age who may have needed a stranger’s kindness, instead of a musical celebrity. I can only hope she is now at peace, with her son and a hot cup of tea.

image credit: The Times UK