OPINION: Castlebar holds no promise for the young

THERE’S a great sense of happiness in our home as I write this. Our first-born has just informed us she has booked flights home for Christmas. She will be back in Mayo just in time for Santa to deliver her gifts, and we’re bubbling with excitement. 
At the moment she lives on the other side of the world. Almost three years ago, she flew out of Dublin Airport to spend two years living and working abroad. We were heart-sick, but happy that she would see other parts of the planet, experience diverse cultures and have lots of fun along the way.
Today, she has a very good job, works hard, has great friends, kicks ball with the local GAA club, goes on adventures almost every weekend and is making a telling contribution to the society and community in which she resides.
We FaceTime her every few days and a flurry of news travels in both directions as we discuss the happenings at home and abroad. Seeing her face brings a sense of warmth and love that brings varying emotions to the surface. We adore her, we’re very proud of her, we’re happy that she’s achieving so much, and we love hearing about the weekly adventures and the great social life she enjoys. However, we’re sad that we can’t hug her, we’re sad that she’s not part of everyday life here at home, and we’re sad that time is passing and she’s on the other side of the world.
In recent months we told her how much we missed her, but that didn’t initiate any talk of her returning to live in Mayo. Now, we’ve decided to go on a charm offensive and push the positives of coming home and setting up life in her home town.
Our girls grew up in Castlebar. They were part of the very fabric of society. They cultivated their dreams in and around the county town and imagined a really bright future in the place they call their own.
Therefore, we’ve decided that when the plane touches down in Dublin on Christmas Eve we’ll be subtly (or maybe not very subtly) selling the positives of returning to live in Castlebar. However, it may take some work.
We’ve been evaluating life in Castlebar and what it has to offer talented, expressive, hard-working people in their 20s. Unfortunately, it doesn’t tally well under such a spotlight. 
Of course, the town is populated with the very finest of people. It is teeming with hospitable, welcoming, decent men, women and children. It has really good schools. It has a great variety of sports clubs. It is one of the best shopping towns in the region. 
On the other hand, Castlebar dies a death at five past six every evening. Apart from betting shops, fast-food outlets and the few pubs that still survive, there’s very little happening. The two or three really good restaurants are doing their very best to stay alive, but they’re fighting against the tide. The university is simmering away in the background when it should be the beacon of light envisaged by my aunt Maud, and the small band of people who worked so hard to bring it to Castlebar in the first place.
Throw in the fact that the town looks abysmal with derelict buildings, dirty buildings and boarded up buildings (and that’s just Main Street), and you begin to understand how hard a task we face in encouraging our daughter to come home.
Castlebar has elected Enda Kenny, Pádraig Flynn, Lisa Chambers and Alan Dillon to Dáil Éireann in the past 50 years. All of them had and have the finest of intentions. All of them did or do their best for their constituents. But the stagnation of Castlebar and the actual state of the town that’s supposed to be the leading light of our proud county is an absolute disgrace, and some of the blame for that has to be left at their doors.
In my view, Castlebar has more potential than any town in the country, but red tape, lack of ambition and foresight, small thinking and the absence of a sense of adventure has left our county town in a shocking state.
It’s not good enough. Of course, we will be swamped with promises and pronouncements about the plans for Castlebar in the run-up to the general election. A few people may be fooled yet again. I won’t, and my daughter won’t. Why should she come home? What is there to come back to, other than a dreary-looking town where it’s almost impossible to rent or buy a home? A town where nightlife is a thing of the past and buildings are allowed rot?