Surrender: 40 Songs, One Story

by Bono

“Do you remember youse used to get a lot of break-ins? Back in the early ’80s?” “Yes,” I answered, looking at Jon, his face suddenly a little paler. “What of it?” “It was just a few bob, tellies, a stereo, and I remember once a kettle. Oh yeah and a jeetar. Was it your jeetar?” “No, it was my brother’s.” “The leather jacket. Was that your brother’s?” “No, that was mine.” “Some reel-to-reel tapes, never listened, were they your songs?” “No.” My blood was starting to boil. I was doing the maths on the various outcomes of this conversation if the situation melted down, if I melted down. Then out of the blue a poetic thing emerged, something I’ve never understood but never forgotten. “You know, we never made a mess?” he asked, looking at me with dignity as well as defiance in his eyes. “You know, we never smashed up your da’s place, and on a point of fact on one occasion we made a cup o’ tea and we fuckin’ cleaned up. Washed and dried the fuckin’ cups.”