A collection from years ago I hope you all like it

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The Watch and Me https://www.blogger.com/profile/08360300604946924721

Jan 23, '09 5:53 PM for everyone

Sep00Michael G Casey email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com  The Watch and Me © By Michael Casey I suppose my love affair with the watch started when I was just a child now 30 years on the passion is still there . I remember lifting up my dad's shirt sleeve to look at the watch on his wrist , watching the second hand sweep around and asking what time was it , not that I really understood the concept of time , I knew midnight was always dark , that was about it really . Oh apart from some special time called "opening time" and "closing time" , our lodgers would pay their rent at the back door before rushing off to the pub , it was a mystery to me . A cousin of ours was to be ordained a priest in Dublin , so dad and 2 of my brothers went off to Dublin for the ceremony . I remember Tony coming back with a watch on his wrist , it had a black strap and had a small face , then at the bottom was seperate dial with a second hand on it , we all thought it was very posh . So being children we now used this dial to see how long we could hold our breath , we'd take a deep breath and pump up our cheeks then Tony waved his hands and we'd start our endurance test . Only stopping when we fell over our faces brilliant red and our eyes bulging . I remember Tony seemed to win this game always , not because he cheated but because he loved under water swimming so had mastered holding his breath . Then we had a contest to run down the yard past the hedge to the bottom of the garden and touch the fence and come back and touch the wall of the house , we were all young and mad then but such simple fun was all because we had a watch with a second hand . Jim was our lodger for 20years , when he'd been with us for 11 years I badgered him for a present , for a watch . if I passed the 11 plus exam. Finally he gave in and gave me his own 2nd best watch , in fact I got it before I even sat the exam . So the watch Jim gave me was my first watch ever . The trouble with leather watch straps is that they dig into your flesh , so you loosen the strap but then the watch dangles , so I compromised by using stretch straps , then you can slide a stretch strap all the way up your arm , until it feels comfortable . I also always liked mechanical watches , it was a night time rictual , taking my watch off and winding it up , setting the time against the chimes of Big Ben on the radio . So you can see just how important a watch is to me . There is just one thing I've forgotten to mention , watches always break . Well when I wear them anyway . For the past 20 years as a computer operator I'm always carrying something and banging my watch on doors or whatever . So they break , leaving my watch in the bathroom while I take a bath was another of my bad habits . Watches steam up on me , or the winder gets rusty and breaks off , or I break the glass , or the glass falls out . Once the glass fell out , so I glued it back again , only to make a mess of the job and glue the hands of the watch together as well . Finally I decided to get a quartz watch , they were accurate , only my sweaty wrist steamed up the face constantly , so I couldn't read the time . On average a watch lasts me 1 year , my sister Mary always laughs every time I show her my latest new watch . A simple Lorex watch was the best one I ever had , its lasted 5 years . However I must confess that it has only lasted me that long because when dad was in hospital after mum had died and he had nearly died too he wanted a watch so he could pass the time , by looking at the watch , so he'd know when his next meal was , the fact that there was a clock on the wall not 2 yards away did not matter . Of course I took the watch off my wrist and gave it to him . he was my dad and I loved him , so if a watch would please him , he could have mine . That was 4 years ago , dad is called the miracle man , by the doctors , he beat death , dad's time was up and the grim reaper made an appearance twice , but dad is still alive and kicking , my watch ticking on his wrist . Or so it was until last month . Jie Jie my Chinese wife bought me a fancy watch for my Birthday so I gave dad my watch , a fancy Esprit model , amd I retired the old one , but I have kept it as a souvenir , we all thought dad would die in weeks , but his heart is still ticking as strong and reliable as a Rolex watch . I think when we all die , if we are not worthy of Paradise immediately God will issue us with a Rolex and we have to wear it for a billion years , until we are worthy of Paradise . God's watch is the turning tides , the movememnt of the stars accross the heavens and rumbling super novas , after all didn't time begin with creation . It is us stupid mankind who try to limit it to a dial on a watch

The Shy Girl

Jan 23, '09 5:52 PM for everyone

The Shy Girl © By Michael Casey Helen let herself in the house and shouted hello to her aunt as she dashed up the stairs two at a time . This was usual for her on a Friday night . Once in the bathroom she breathed a sigh of relief , her aunt hadn't seen the carrier bags she was carrying . Helen put the plug in the bath and then reaching into the Body Shop carrier she poured a liberal amount of "enriching body bubble bath" into the bath before turning the hot tap on . Next she hit the play button on the cassette and began to get undressed , she got undressed slowly and deliberatly , just as she had read in Cosmo in the article on how to turn on your man . She'd been practicing for three months now , she was very good at it. Helen was twenty five and three months old , she wore baggy clothes to hide her figure , for she was a shy girl , it was only on Friday night when she reformed her ritual "temptress" routine before she tried on her new clothes that she was truely free . All alone in the bathroom with just a mirror for company Helen could act out her fantasies, now she stood naked before the mirror , she took a bow , she really had mastered the the routine Cosmo had suggested . If only she wasn't so shy if only she didn't hide her bust behind a baggy top and her bum behind a loose fitting three quarter length skirt . Helen took a long hard look at herself in the mirror , she'd look good on any page three , only she never bought the Sun , just looked at it over the shoulder of people on the bus . She always though "tart" every time she got a glance of page three , but if only she could have a thimble full of their brazeness , then she wouldn't be so shy , then she'd have a steady boyfriend . When she reached 25 she promised herself that she'd stop being so shy , and for the past three months she'd being buying things that would show off her figure , next week she was going to get contacts too , after all men never made a pass at girls who wore glasses. The only problem was that for three months she'd bought the nice if not exactly sexy clothes , only all she did was try them on before neatly folding them and putting them at the bottom of her wardbrobe . She really was a shy girl , some might think a frump , just to judge by outward appearences , its just that she was shy , shy shy shy. Her bath was ready so reaching in her carrier she reached for a magazine before getting in the bath . This month the main article was about sex , relationships and why cann't men just be friends , there was a picture from the film "When Harry Met Sally" above the article . Helen started to read , her glasses steaming up already , she reached down for her bar of Galexy taking a big bite as she read . Helen's friends had started to get married and /or have serious relationships , she was beginning to feel left behind , especially as once her friends had a man they had less time for friendship with her . She read the article hoping to find fresh insight into her situation . It was asking how far should you go on your first date , second date and so on , there was even a chart so you had an at a glance guide . Helen thought of her last boyfiend , three months ago in fact , he had assused that as it was her birthday the thing she'd like most would be him ! He's pressed himself against her , and put his hand on her breast , only she'd kneed him in the groin , and his fancy watch with its even fancier watch strap had got stuck on her bra strap , so as she stormed off , she had his Cartier watch dangling from her chest almost like a nurse's watch . She read on pausing for more chocolate , if only men were as nice as Galexy that would be something. She finished the article and turned the page to be met with a picture of agent Fox Mulder from the X files . She sighed , she wouldn't be shy with him that was for sure , mind you millions of woman would doubtless say the same . She spent five minutes adoring his picture before taking another bite of chocolate , and then sinking lower into the bath , yes yes yes , oh yes , this chocolate was something else , or was it Fox Mulder ? There was another article about pets and stress levels , that was quite interesting , apparently you live longer if you have a pet , as you have something to love and it in return loves you unconditionally . if only she could find a man like that . Mind you animals did have one major disadvantage . they were very wanton , very caveman like . If a male animal liked a female it just jumped and got on with it , perhaps she should be wanton , just once , just to see if it worked , could you find true love by being a tart just the once and hoping you'd found the man of your dreams ? She closed her eyes and shook her head before saying outloud , "a tart is a tart , is a tart " . Then she farted , giggled helplessly as the bubbles disappeared . She thought of her friend Vicky , she was like her , very shy and hiding her figure behind frumpy clothes , she'd given herself away , only she'd got pregnant and the lad ran a mile , then her mother threw her out , so she ended up running away to London to have an abortion . Helen closed her eyes and shivered at the thought of it , she turned the hot tap with her big toe , she was determined that would never happen to her . Why she'd even gone on the pill so determined was she . She just wished she'd meet somebody who was gentle and kind who could make her laugh , and above all was not so fast , she wanted to be courted , in fact she wanted to tell him , "you can put your hand on my breast now" , perhaps she was longing for the 50s , even though now it was nearing the millenium . She wasn't looking for a man with a book in his hand all the time and she wasn't looking for a body builder either , Martin was just perfect only the one time he got carried away and had touched her bum with one hand and felt her breast with his other hand , and without asking either . So naturally she'd kneed him in the groin , what else was she to do ? In fact the men at work called her "frigid" behind her back , but she had to have standards didn't she ? It had been the first time she'd ever closed her eyes , normally she'd keep them open so she could keep a lookout for any roving hands , then the first time she had relented and that had happened . Perhaps one day she'd love and trust somebody enough to give into her animal insticts , but she just wasn't ready now . The bath water was getting cold now ,so she got out of the bath and dried herself in front of the mirror , once she was dry she'd try on her new clothes . She had bought some red skimpy underwear , a red knee length skirt and a tight fitting blue top , as she got dressed she began to laugh , if only people could see her now and when she got some contacts she'd be really knockout . Then she sighed , she'd tried lots of bright colours over the past three months , but in her heart of hearts she knew she'd never wear them in public , she just didn't have the confidence besides every time she looked at herself in the mirror the only word that sprang to mind was "Tart" . But she would at least wear her contacts , it was at least a start wasn't it ?So slowly and sadly she changed back into her frumpy clothes , nobody would ever see her at her best . Except the fourteen year old lad named Michael who had been watching through the window from the house next door , for in her rush Helen had forgotten to close the curtains .

Internet Story

Jan 23, '09 5:50 PM for everyone

Internet Story © By Michael Casey So all I had to do was send an email , and then I’d be a writer , my book in every shop , my face smirking from cardboard cutouts of me holding my book aloft . My book had a great title , so it was bound to sell . A Nation Of Shopkeepers was a great title , if only people could remember their History , were people interested in History , and for that matter my book . It wasn’t a history book , would people think it WAS a history book , and then not buy it . It was a comedy drama , about a street of shops , interconnecting short stories , for all the family , but would people notice the levels , the strands of humour , or would they say it’s a Ma & Pa book , and miss the joke , just as one publisher called did ? I decided to keep the title , though I had a reserve title , The Butcher , The Baker and The Undertaker . Then I realised the US market would rename it The Butcher , The Baker And The Funeral Arranger . You don’t think about such things when you are writing the book , you’re just happy , on a roll , in love with your own intellect , or just surprized you actually DO have any intellect , then you discover that you are dyslexic , you really are dyslexic , thankfully not a really bad case , just dyslexic . As you proof read you see you have put BUT instead PUT , LEAD instead of READ , things like this and other strange things . Sure there are spellcheckers but or is it put , you have to check it anyway . As you read you are surprized at your own ability . You didn’t waste 4years in journalism school , but your writing is GOOD , Did I write that ? Then your chest filled with pride you get somebody else to read it , and guess what ? They think its crap . So now you have to decide , should I give up or should I carry on ? I gave up for as while , while is a unit of years in my case , my life took another path , so the writing was forgotten , it lay dormant for years , then like a phoenix it arose , or more truthfully , like a tortoise awaking from hibernation , sleep still in my eyes I slowly poked my head out , then back in , went back to sleep again , then finally with the pangs of hunger in my stomach I just had to do something . In my case it was eat , as in really eat , then I turned to my old Atari and realised it was not PC compatible , so I bought a new , or rather an old new Atari which was PC compatible . Then I spent a day copying my files so that I could read them on a PC . Then I wrote a few more pieces before I realised I’d get nowhere in England . The chances of being published were 1 in 2000 . So like a bear , I went back in my cave and slumbered . Meeting my wife Jing Jie was a turning point in my life , and not just because it was like Thunder as Jing Jie calls it , it was a turning point because I had a professional opinion on my writing , from a journalist at the very top of the tree . Her uncle is an editor in chief , so his comments were and are like gold , worth more than my first coffee and Cadbury’s chocolate , the pleasure rush I treat myself to every day , his comments really were that important to me , and I really DO like my Cadbury’s , so being better than Cadbury’s is the highest praise I can give . So I knew the quality of my writing , even if others said and say its crap . Getting a modern PC and internet connection was another turning point . Email in our house is like water and electic in any other homes . Jing Jie can “talk” to her mum in Shanghai every day . To friends all over the world as well . Birmingham IS the centre of the universe .So with hope and fear I had to transfer my files from my old Atari to the new PC . The floppy discs were old and battered , several were unreadable , finally my work , my babies were safely on the new PC . Just to be on the safe side I set up a website , so now my work was on somebody’s server in the US , thousands of miles away , safe from fire or theft . I could also put our new baby’s photos on the web site so that my Chinese family in Shanghai and Maimi and friends all over the world could see Annie and Jing Jie and me , they could even read my work too . So now all I had to do was market my work in the US , simple really , soon I’d be doing something useful with my life , making people laugh . I’d be a writing whore , I’d get paid to make others laugh , the best job in the world . So how would I set about it ? I got a list of radio stations from the internet and started sending emails galore . I’m talking in the hundreds now , to radio stations the length and breath of the US .They could publicise my site then eventually I’d get published , or my play would get produced . It was simple wasn’t it . So merrily I went about my business , sending emails galore . Years before I used to send off big heavy envelopes with my work in , with more persistance than hope in my heart .”Thank you for your pieces of paper“was the best put down . I once even met a writer and he agreed to to read my play Shoplife , then he wrote back calling me a plagerist , because it was so good . So I used his note as toilet paper , Shoplife was so good because I had 20years of experience given to me by my sister , I just improved on it , but yet I was called a Copyist , so naturally I was angry and used his note to wipe my bum . I wondered why my strike rate was so low with my emails to radio stations , then somebody casually mentioned , “You do know they will just delete anything with an attachment” . In these days of viruses or worms which I’ve discovered is the new trendy word , nobody can risk their PC , so I merrily send and they merrily delete . I’d been wasting my time , but not my money because I’d got a 24/7 package on my internet from AOL .However one radio station did read Shoplife . The DJ or is it Host , he called it hilarious and he could not stop reading it . It turned out he was an actor as well , though isn’t everybody an actor in the US ? So I thanked him , and quoted him in my future advertising .Humour is a funny thing . The things that make English people laugh are not the same as the things that make Americans’ laugh . We are constantly told by people on tv that English TV is the best in the world , the US material we see is the top 10% , the rest is rubbish . But I know I’d never get my foot in the door in England so I had to persist with my American campaign , so now I pasted in my material , no attachments . Just get them hooked , then paste in a sample then direct them to http://groups.msn.com/michaelcasey Then bingo part2 of my life could begin ,I’d be the man that made America laugh , a naïve sentiment , but it was honest .Only AOL turns things into zip files and some people cann’t unzip your files , its like wanting sex but your zipper is broke and you cann’t get your trousers off . Such a strong urge , but no forfillment . I switched to MSMAIL and pasted in my stuff , things started to happen , my files weren’t being deleted or too zipped up to be read . At least I wasn’t frustrated any more . Now I had an agent interested , and a new magazine , even a theatre replied .All praise to Bill Gates , and to a Christian called Pat Verato who pointed me in the direction of a few good sites .However some of the sites that I trawled through were just , so very American . Hey , you too can be a writer , just send me 10 dollars and I’ll send you my book “How to make 10 dollars” , and he does . Then there’s magazines you can subscribe to , yes you’ve guessed it , just send another 10 dollars “Writing for Beginners” . There’s all these agents too who are so successful , persuading tap dancing bus drivers to write about Tap Dancing For Bus Drivers , the complete self help book , costs 10 dollars . The agent gets 20percent , and the bus driver pays 5000dollars to print 500 copies , then he can boast he’s a writer , not just a bus driver , and guess what if you pay 10 dollars you can learn to tap dance too . As for me , what do I think of all this ? I’d say just keep on writing , stop your selling , or attempts at selling , just write a bit . Add to your catalogue of 3 poems and 2 short stories , then search for an agent . Believe you’ll never be published and then you won’t be disappointed. There is one final thing you can do though , just tell everybody to go to my site http://groups.msn.com/michaelcasey  And help find a publisher for my book , and then you’ve guessed it , just send me 10 dollars ! End this site is my new site 0

Literary Criticism

Jan 23, '09 5:49 PM for everyone

Nov99 Michael G Casey email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com Literary Criticism (c) By Michael Casey I always thought I was a good writer , people told me so , and it was what I wanted to hear , so naturally I believed it . That was until Jee Ji came to live with me . She told me she'd read my stuff , my "rubbish" and give an opinion , her uncles were influential , so perhaps , or just maybe they could help me get published or even produced . Then the world would be my oyster , however I had forgotten one fundamental thing . Jee Ji was Chinese , her English still had a long way to go , and besides which would British humour travel as far as China , or as far as her Chinese brain ? So naturally I gave her my funniest story to read first , the true yet surreally funny Czech story , and what did she say ? "Its boring", if she had been a man or one of the lads from work I'd have punched her , or at the very least called her an "ignorant bastard". But because I loved her , I took the critism like a man and smiled , and that was a revelation in itself , why ? Because I had found somebody whom I respected enough not to curse at when the hated my work , my stuff , my "rubbish" . Love is a strange thing , making you smile , instead of curse . So it at least proved how much I loved her , I had told her that my stories were my children , the product of my love , the only thing with meaning in my life , with value in my life . Until true love came along in the form f Jee Ji herself . So now we could discuss things , with love in our eyes , and my writing was , what it really was , just words on paper. Perhaps someday my simple words would really have great value , but now I realised what they were - words , just words , perhaps never to have any meaning , except to me alone . In the Bible it begins with "In the beginningh there was The Word" , aand after that we have the Bible itself , and the rest is History . So perhaps my humble words would have a beginning , and perhaps my future words would have history too , obviously not as great as The Bible , but I still dream that someday my words will have an effect on people . I don't want to move mountains , just make people laugh , that's enough for me . However humour is a funny thing , I cannot tell a joke to save my life but sopmehow when I put words on paper I can make people smile and even laugh . When I'm really relaxed and down the pub I can actually make people cry with laughter , and I don't know why , the trears of laughter just flow , so perhaps when I write I should just relax aand pretend I'm down the pub and most of all , just don't try to be funny , just let the laughter flow naturally . So much for the theory , the practice is that you write for years and nobody pays a blind bit of notice , then you write one thinmg and hey presto you are recognised as a "writer" , well in your office at any rate . So you are suddenly "world famous" to a group of friends , if you are lucky 30 friends , that's just how "world famous" I became . Offer any other pieces of your "literature" and you are treated like a leper , "Unclean , Unclean" people almost say . I did get one real fan , and I fell in love with her , only she didn't fall in love with me , as she repeatedly said . However I did make a friend for life , which is better than nothing . And I'm use to nothing , so that cann't be bad . Jee Ji revealed her uncles's connections , after I'd already guessed , I was happy but not overwhelmed . I had a play accepted 12 years ago , only it did not happen , so I've given up believing I'd ever be acknowledged as a writer long ago . If a miracle happens and her family decides to help me then that's wonerful , but I have her love and love is the greatest gift of all , so I'm more than happy . World recognition as a writer will never happen , not unless my mother who makes tea in Heaven pulls lots of strings for me , having said that she sent Jee Ji so perhaps helping me find my true vocation is next on my mother's list . "Blessed is he who expects nothing" , so perhaps before I die I will be blessed , and become a writer . So that's how Jee Ji has become my literary critic , if I get 100 out of 100 she will pass on my work to her uncle , but she is the filter . This makes me smile and is the ultimate irony , becuase her English is very good , though her verbalising is not as good as what's in her head , and she still has to look words up in her electronic dictionary . So I have a Chinese literary critic , who is still learning English ! So Igave her another piece to read , it was "Its all in the Stars" a comedy based on me and Louise . This made her laugh and smile , occasionally Jee Ji would look up and ask "What Mean?" and spell out a word and I'd explain and make her look it up in the dictionary . So I'd be smiling as I watched her read my story , and then I'd smile even more when she stopped to ask for explanations of English words . God really DOES have the last laugh , first I have to write something funny , which is hardf in itself, then I have to write in such a way as to please a Chinese girl . Now that is the future which I have to bear in mind . As for my back catologue , I just have to hope that with "The help of God and Two Policemen " as my mum alwasys used to say my old "stuff" will pass the Chinese filter and get 100 out of 100 , and then a Chinese uncle in Maimi or a Chinese uncle in Shanghai will help this Birmingham England boy get his foot in the door as a writer . So I watch from my rocking chaire as she reads , as I watch for smiles I admire her beauty , though I call her ans "ugly mug" as a joke , and as a way of making her realise that beauty is only skin deep . And we both realise too its because we see each others heart that's why we are sitting opposite eacxh other , that's why I have a Chinese critic of my British humour , and yes God really DOES have a truely great sense of humour . If I can do the impossible then I will perhaps finally get my chance to be a writer . Though I must immediately say that my mum does make the tea in Heaven so I'm sure she's bribing Saint Jude , the patron saint of the impossible , "Look , Saint Jude if you want the best tea for all eternity , just help Michael my youngest son , let him make people laugh for 70 years with his writing . But only if he can make his Chinese girl give him 100 out of 100 . And only if its the Will of God." .So basically that's the situation . Simple really , I just sit in my rocking chair and watch Jee Ji smile and every now and then she says "What Mean?" and I explain and she checks it out in her electonic dictionary , then she laughs more when she reads the Chinese translation . I'm sure I can hear God laughing in the background , but I REALLY do believe mum sent Jee Ji to me , so I hope its just a matter of time before I get my foot in the door and I get a chance to be a writer . Having said that perhaps I should add that Time is God's greatest joke , didn't Padre Pio once say something like "The prayers I will say tomorrow will have helped you yesterday ." To finish , perhaps I should just teach Jee Ji more English and then Hey Presto she'll see what a wonderful writer I am . I'm laughing now at my own stupidity , its more likely she'll think even more how useless I am as a writer , however God works in mysterious ways and another thing my mother used to say was "Far Fetched , Like Shit from China." Why ? Because our meeting and falling ion love is so unbelieveable and so far fetched just like "Shit from China" , so the ultimate joke is that it takes a real Chinese miracle for me to find a girl AND get published . Or can I hear God Laughing ? ***** this is a true figure of speech that my mother used to use, IT IS NOT anything else. 0 comments share

Padre Pio and Me a true story

Jan 23, '09 5:47 PM for everyone

Padre Pio and Me © By Michael Casey It’s a contradiction in terms immediately , how can I copyright a Saint . A brand new saint at that . I first heard of him through some Religious reading I did . I feel embarrassed to admit it , but I am a practising Catholic , its not fashionable to have any Faith but its mine so I admit it . Immediately the prejudice begins , but if I WERE A Jew or a Muslim , it would be the same . I do feel that my catholic tastes have given me a broader outlook on life , as has my eclectic tastes and rubbing shoulders with a wide variety of people . But I want to talk about Padre Pio . I had a crisis and was reading about him at the time , so I said my prayers to him and the way forward was revealed . Though Padre Pio always says go Higher , he is just a stepping stone on the way to a better place . What is so hard to understand about Padre Pio is how he suffered . He had the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune . Condemned by his own superiors , made to be quiet for a decade and so forth . Science Fiction teaches or rather amuses us about Time Travel , but with Padre Pio it really happened , he wanted to share in Christ’s agony so he thought , what if he too could have and suffer the wounds on that day of Crucifiction . So it came to pass that he suffered for 50years . He had the indignity of medical examinations and of being thought just to be a mental patient , but his work and life proved his holiness . So it’s nearly 1990 and I hear about him and read a few books , its hard to understand the value of suffering in this age of quick fix pain killers and the lets have a fix , whatever the fix might be , sex, drugs and rock and roll or whatever . Its like suddenly studying again after years of lying fallow , the learning curve is enormous . So too is it with Padre Pio , the idea behind his life is enormous , but so too is the capacity for love and help . My favourite story is how Padre Pio explains that The Wedding Feast at Cena happened because Jesus could not refuse his mother . Very Italian , or Irish or Spanish and so on , but could any of us refuse our mothers? So I thought more about what Padre Pio said , and his motto of Pray Hope Don’t Worry became my own . Carpe Diem is another good motto but perhaps this can be used by any Hedonist , or other kind of selfish person .Padre Pio reminds us to pray and that pray is not wasted , its perfume that is never wasted is a phrase I like . My mother always used to say that if you couldn’t sleep you should say the Rosary , and she was right . Though in todays world an hour on the Internet or with MTV might do the trick . So why the devotion to Padre Pio , I’ll cut to the chase. My mother died suddenly but peacefully in her sleep , my brother tried CPR , but she was gone . Imagine the angusih amongst her 6 children and her husband of nearly 50 years . All except me , my mother had said no tears when she go ,so I never cried , I was the odd one out .I know how prayerful she was , so I had no need of tears . Eight bare weeks later my brother , the same brother heard our dad fall out of bed , so he ran to his bedroom . My brother was facing the exact same situation , he tried CPR , the ambulance was called , an injection was given straight to the heart . On weekends there is a doctor in the ambulance , so Luck , if that’s the word was with us . The next day 4 of my brothers and sisters came around to tell me the news . When my sister had come around 8 weeks previously I knew somebody was dead but I assumed it was my dad , he’s die first we all thought . So now 8 weeks later it was his turn to die . At the hospital dad was given 1 week to live , I cried like a baby , worse than a baby , but I loved him , so I told he he should go to our mother and not hang on if he didn’t want to . The next day I was in my sister’s house crying , we picked hymns for his funeral .Yet my father survived , 19 patients on a heart ward , 18 died my dad survived . Padre Pio was beseiged by my prayers , I put Padre Pio’s photo under his pillow . Dad lost his mind , he was in Dudley Rd for 3months , 12 weeks , more than half of them all tubed up . His life hanging in the balance . At the same time somewhere in Florida another man was at deaths door , he was a totally stranger to me , I didn’t even know his name , I’d never met him , he was give 24hours to live , a Chinese man from Shanghai was at deaths door . The Chinaman survived .My dad’s memory was totally wiped , he did not know who I was, I’m your son was greeted with , am I married . I was the favourite son , he did not even know me . But still we prayed , it’s a feeling in your guts , just like when you are nearly killed as you cross the road , its in your guts and in your heart , Jesus save my dad , Jesus save my dad , Padre Pio help !!! This goes around your head like a merry go around or a kaleidascope . Finally dad awoke . He said that he can remember hearing the doctor say to wheel him down to the end of the ward , because he’d be dead soon . At that moment my dad awoke, and the doctor dropped his cup of tea in shock . No not an instanteous miracle , but as Dr Singh had said if he were 30years younger he’d have a heart transplant because dad’s heart was rubbish . Now , when I told my brother that dad was reading a newspaper he was shocked . His memory had come back . He knew who we all were .Every day for three months I walked the corridor at Dudley Rd , the longest hospital corridor in Europe , 1 kilometre long . Finally he left the hospital , my sister had found a good home for him to live in , he was far too weak to live in the family house . For 3 years dad survived , like a Godfather with all his children making constant visits . Finally I met my future wife . It was her uncle who had miraclously survived at the same time as my father . It was her uncle who encouraged us in our love . From Shanghai to Birmingham .These great men , her uncle and my father never met , but I know Padre Pio must have helped both of them . Further prayer was needed to bring me and my wife permanenetly together . A Chinese miracle happened . Now we are wed , we have a 2year old and please God a healthy second baby in the Autumn . The improbability of our meeting , plus the fact that both men HAD to live for us to be married and have a family , this may be a coincidence to some but I know a miracle when I see one. A miracle is something that makes you feel humble , it makes you know that God has whispered your name . When I look at my wife , I feel humble . Seeing our daughter laugh and play also makes me humble as will our new baby. Then you can look back and know that prayer is like perfume that can never be wasted , your life has led you to where you are now , yes at times sad and terrible , but be humble in the sight of God means something , not just for me , but for all Believers . I once stood by the fridge and said to Padre Pio , I give up , you take over , all I want is to be married , and perhaps have a family , and do something useful with my life . That was just before my eyes were opened to my wife . I used to say that I got 2 out of my 3 wishes . Perhaps my current occupation is my 3rd wish , or a more outstanding miracle is waiting in the wings , but as Padre Pio said ,always ask for the big Grace .Perhaps we have to be humble enough to deserve it , because I believe it to be a fact that , truly great people are humble because they know just how little they really know.

Crawling Like a Worm in The Dirt, humbled by a photo copier.

Jan 23, '09 5:45 PM for everyone

Crawling Like a Worm in The Dirt, humbled by a photo copier. This is one piece from my www.positivethoughts.com essay/blog postings, I type fast so excuse any mistakes. Well this is my 100th post, I had hoped I could think up something nice or even spectacular. This is what I've come up with. I'm laughing now as I type. Yesterday 5minutes after I started work I bent down to fill up the copiers. I filled one, then another, then I did a third. I then screamed, I had straightened up too fast and had ricked/strained my back on the right hand side. So these past 27hours have been a lesson in pain and humility. I felt such a fool at work, the girls I work were both sympathetic and funny. Somebody came by for some coloured paper , I bent down to look under our shelf and I was racked with pain, one girl told me to crawl away out of the way so that she could find it instead. I hobbled away, out of the way. The rest of day I moved about like an 80 year old, rather like my own dad. I hoped that on my lunch break while I sat for 30mins in the cathedral my back would be restored. We stand all day in our print as some of you may remember me mention. Prayer and rest for 30mins no doubt aided my soul but not my back. I went back to work and hobbled about for a couple of hours. Then I decided I really had to go home and rest. Getting home I got off the bus and had to walk only 300yards, a crippled Charlie Chaplin kind of walk, though I look more like Oliver Hardy. I was home 2 hours earlier than normal so the family were surprised. I told them I was fired as a joke. Then I sat down on an old chair and then I could hardly move. Standing up again was an impossiblity. Last Friday we had a drama with my youngest, this Friday,Friday13th it was my turn. My girls all laughed at me,just as I would laugh at them if the tables were reversed. Night came and knew I could never climb the stairs to bed, but at least our bathroom was downstairs. So I tumbled onto our sofa and got ready to spend the night there. Only we have a glass coffee table in front of it and I was afraid of falling off onto it. So at 1am I staggered up the stairs like a drunk with locked joints, then I rolled onto my bed, screaming as I did so. I did sleep, but in the morning I had to slither out like a snake sliding out of bed on my belly. Some positions were possible and some were not. My wife laughed till she cried my youngsters did too, as for me, I laughed and cursed and laughed again. My wife went to see the pharmacy man for advice and a spray for me. The pharmacist laughed too, he's an old friend. When she got back I was all sprayed up, the old spray and the newly bought one drenching me and my room with the stench of a bad back. I slithered in and out of bed, crawling around as I couldn't stand up straight. As for getting down stairs that would be an impossiblity. My wife went shopping, stopping first to steal my debit card, laughing she left me in my bed of pain. When she returned she gave me yoguart and orange juice. Later I just had to go downstairs, but I couldn't walk. I slithered off bed like snake, then made it to my hands and knees, then an inspired idea. I bounced down the stairs one step at a time, on my butt , one step at a time. Then I crawled across our living room and pulled myself up onto a chair. I did notice that we needed a new carpet after 20years our carpet does need replacing. I then rewarded myself by stealing my wife's pork she'd just made. Later after some movements like belly dancer of 120 years old, I managed to straighten up. I do walk as if I have a full diaper though. I made it too my big chair in front of my computer. And that’ s how I got to write this 100th post. The moral of all this? Well I am a very bad patient. Health is the most important thing in our lives. I rejoice that my girls have a good sense of humour, even if I am the butt of it all. Last year when I had food poisoning they had plenty to laugh about then. And I do laugh at that memory. We are all worms crawling in the dirt. It is God's love that lifts us up, as does our family life. Sometimes it is only though pain and adversity that we learn such truths, sometimes we learn mundane things, but they too have meaning for us, even if its just the fact that we need a new living room carpet. This is one piece from my www.positivethoughts.com essay/blog postings, I type fast so excuse any mistakes. Well this is my 100th post, I had hoped I could think up something nice or even spectacular. This is what I've come up with. I'm laughing now as I type. Yesterday 5minutes after I started work I bent down to fill up the copiers. I filled one, then another, then I did a third. I then screamed, I had straightened up too fast and had ricked/strained my back on the right hand side. So these past 27hours have been a lesson in pain and humility. I felt such a fool at work, the girls I work were both sympathetic and funny. Somebody came by for some coloured paper , I bent down to look under our shelf and I was racked with pain, one girl told me to crawl away out of the way so that she could find it instead. I hobbled away, out of the way. The rest of day I moved about like an 80 year old, rather like my own dad. I hoped that on my lunch break while I sat for 30mins in the cathedral my back would be restored. We stand all day in our print as some of you may remember me mention. Prayer and rest for 30mins no doubt aided my soul but not my back. I went back to work and hobbled about for a couple of hours. Then I decided I really had to go home and rest. Getting home I got off the bus and had to walk only 300yards, a crippled Charlie Chaplin kind of walk, though I look more like Oliver Hardy. I was home 2 hours earlier than normal so the family were surprised. I told them I was fired as a joke. Then I sat down on an old chair and then I could hardly move. Standing up again was an impossiblity. Last Friday we had a drama with my youngest, this Friday,Friday13th it was my turn. My girls all laughed at me,just as I would laugh at them if the tables were reversed. Night came and knew I could never climb the stairs to bed, but at least our bathroom was downstairs. So I tumbled onto our sofa and got ready to spend the night there. Only we have a glass coffee table in front of it and I was afraid of falling off onto it. So at 1am I staggered up the stairs like a drunk with locked joints, then I rolled onto my bed, screaming as I did so. I did sleep, but in the morning I had to slither out like a snake sliding out of bed on my belly. Some positions were possible and some were not. My wife laughed till she cried my youngsters did too, as for me, I laughed and cursed and laughed again. My wife went to see the pharmacy man for advice and a spray for me. The pharmacist laughed too, he's an old friend. When she got back I was all sprayed up, the old spray and the newly bought one drenching me and my room with the stench of a bad back. I slithered in and out of bed, crawling around as I couldn't stand up straight. As for getting down stairs that would be an impossiblity. My wife went shopping, stopping first to steal my debit card, laughing she left me in my bed of pain. When she returned she gave me yoguart and orange juice. Later I just had to go downstairs, but I couldn't walk. I slithered off bed like snake, then made it to my hands and knees, then an inspired idea. I bounced down the stairs one step at a time, on my butt , one step at a time. Then I crawled across our living room and pulled myself up onto a chair. I did notice that we needed a new carpet after 20years our carpet does need replacing. I then rewarded myself by stealing my wife's pork she'd just made. Later after some movements like belly dancer of 120 years old, I managed to straighten up. I do walk as if I have a full diaper though. I made it too my big chair in front of my computer. And that’ s how I got to write this 100th post. The moral of all this? Well I am a very bad patient. Health is the most important thing in our lives. I rejoice that my girls have a good sense of humour, even if I am the butt of it all. Last year when I had food poisoning they had plenty to laugh about then. And I do laugh at that memory. We are all worms crawling in the dirt. It is God's love that lifts us up, as does our family life. Sometimes it is only though pain and adversity that we learn such truths, sometimes we learn mundane things, but they too have meaning for us, even if its just the fact that we need a new living room carpet. 0 comments share

Technology

Jan 23, '09 5:43 PM for everyone

The trouble with Technology © By Michael Casey The trouble with technology is that we all use it , now if we just left it all alone then we all have no problems . Simple really but we all just cann't leave it alone , we all just have yo use it . In the beginning if we wanted water we'd fetch the bucket and drop it down a well . My mother was born just 30feet from the sea , but they were fortunate because they had their own well , so they went outside and dropped the bucket down the well and then they had water . Then technology comes along and we just turn a tap and we have clean water instantly . We have hot water too , at the turn of a tap . In one generation so many changes . However technology then works against us , because we assume it will always work and that there will be no problems We don't even know where the stopcock is , so our homes flood and then we discover we are not covered by our insurance . My mother grew up with an oil lamp hanging above , no luxury of gas lamps for her , as for electricity , that was just a dream . Nowadays how could any society manage without electricity , its impossible to believe life without electricity . No tv , no radio , no freezers , no street lighting , no traffic lights, the list goes on and on . As for indoor plumbing , the luxury of a hot bath , the WC in the home . My mother grew up with no indoor plumbing , if you needed the bathroom as the American's say , then you'd leave the house and pick your spot in a field with the cows gazing on , as for toilet paper you had a blade of grass to wipe your %^** . As for me we did not have such hardships , we had an outside WC , which we did not have to share with any other family , just 8 Caseys sharing our outside bog/toilet . There was a yard light to illuminate the way and a light in the toilet too . Which was sheer luxury compared to my mum's and my dad's childhoods . My dad would always come home and immediately switch off the yard light because it was wasting electricity . Then a shout would go up "Put the light on" , and my dad would always say "I didn't know" . Then there was the indignity of running out of paper . My brother Tony had a very good sense of humour so it was always the case that I'd shout from the yard "More Bog Roll" which is the English slang for toilet paper . Tony was kind so he'd always bring out a fresh supply of paper , only he liked to tease so he'd push one sheet , just one sheet of paper under the door and say that's all there was in the house , and that mom said I'd have to use my finger . Then he'd go away laughing . He always left a full roll of paper on the doorstep , much to my relief . Simple technology , we all take for granted , water and electricity . What does all this technology do for us ? It gives us independent comfortable lives , we have clean water , hot water , light and warmth . Then with the miracle of TV we can all watch the world go by , from the comfort of our homes , or the local bar whichever is our true home . We are now a global village as has often been said , but then we become anti social as its easier to watch tv than to interact with real people , we'd rather watch fiction on tv than have a real life . But with technology we can send an email to our neighbour across the road , with pictures and video , rather than leave our castle homes , rather than going over for a coffee and a bar of chocolate .That's one view the optimistic view says that we truly can break down barriers by using the miracle of email to keep us connected though we are thousands of miles apart . I have to hold my hand up and admit that I am an email Junky , I did send up to 5 emails a day to my friend in another part of the office , because we were both having fun . Then when I fell in love with my one true love it was ONLY because of the miracle of email that our love survived .I sent my girlfriend long long emails everyday for 6 months . She was in Shanghai while I was in Birmingham . My heart was breaking with love and hope until finally she came back to me . I'd come home from work at 3am and hit the keyboard , with luck because of the time difference we'd actually be live and talking almost in real time .You cannot imagine how heart rending it was to come home to an email , to get up in the afternoon and read an email before going on night shift .I think whoever invented email should be made a saint, without email our love would not have lasted . An exchange of letters takes 14 days from Birmingham to Shanghai , so thank God for email and God himself KNOWS just how much I mean that , Sainthood is not high enough reward for the inventor of email .Is it Saint Bill Gates ? The telephone is fantastic , but too expensive , I know my phone bill reached 4 figures , but an email can be read over and over again , and even printed off , so it is a letter. So I confess email is the most important leap in technology of the 20th Century , as far as I am concerned . The next stage in the technology story are mobile phones that send/receive video and tv , so we are literally wired up where ever we are in the world science fiction becoming science fact . We all used empty match boxes to pretend we were Captain Kirk communicating to the Enterprise but now they are here for real . If you have been in a theatre,church,hospital and these things bleep you have to decide for yourself are they useful or just a real pain in the *&^% . On balance they are good , but people have to be a lot more considerate , nobody else wants to hear their conversations if they are in church or at the theatre or even cinema . I remember a conversation I had at dinner on Xmas Eve just gone , the guy sat next to me happen to design mobile phones , he was very very good at his job , but I did warn caution about saturation point being reached . Then today 4months on , I am proved right , the mobile giants are in trouble , why , because of saturation point now being reached . I don't want to end on low note , so I'll tell another anecdote , we all remember when we had our first colour tv , how wonderful it was and how we all marvel and the colours . The BBC started showing snooker because of the colours , and now tv without snooker would be unimaginable . Then remote control came in , so we'd try different positions and even outside the house and through the glass into the room where the tv was . Technology makes us all like children , its supposed to be a triumph of engineering and technology but really its our greatest toy , and our greatest joy . On Saturday my dad will come out of the old peoples home to spend the day with me and my Chinese wife in our home . I'll be able to show him the internet and I hope I can bring tears of joy to his eyes as I show him County Kerry on the computer monitor . Sitting in my living room in Birmingham he can read the Irish newspapers and see his homeland where he started as a blacksmith in the 1930s . This is how we should be using technology 0 comments share

About Journalism about us.

Jan 23, '09 5:40 PM for everyone

As we sit in our armchairs watching the news , do we care what is going on over there , in some place hot , to hot to think about , or too cold to bear , ice and snow everywhere . Are we just waiting for the sports report , are we waiting to see was the battle hard or a walkover , did our favourite player score a home run , or 10 touchdowns , were the crowd , the audience behind him , did we win 100dollars from the bet we had on the side . In the interviews after the war was won , were we just watching to see the design on the teams shirt , is that a new logo , is that the same logo spruced up . Or is it a new logo entirely , does it make any difference in how the team played , or just another million dollars in the owners pocket , paid by us the audience , the fans , just so we can all look so identical . The reporters are screaming loudly , half excited and half in fear , they want to watch , they want to cover their eyes , but they are there so they must report . Are they in some arrid desert , or in some cold cold place , pain and fear and hope etched on their face , are they in some war zone , or at the stadium , if all we heard were just their words , could we tell the difference , do we care , so long as we can switch it all off with our remote control 0 comments share

The Dead and the Living

Jan 23, '09 5:38 PM for everyone

The Dead and The Living © by Michael Casey I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old ,my father said not to worry as the dead are the same as the living , only the laughter has left them , the sparkle has gone from their eyes , the worry has been lifted from their shoulders , and their voice has vanished to eternity . In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the twinkle of the stars , the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter . I treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living , though I find the deceased are always more polite . My father also had a few words to say about the living . He said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul , yet they think their existance is everything , that they know everything because they experience many things with their senses . What the living don't acknowledge is that their time is short and when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls continue without them , without their strong , without their weak , without their beautiful or even uglg temporary form , to where I cannot say , only that it is a better place . Percy the undertaker placed the lid on the coffin ,the soul was free THE BEGINNING 0 comments share

The Tears I Shed are for Me

Jan 23, '09 5:36 PM for everyone

A family friend died today, just 42, 2 infants and a wife left behind. He only found out he had cancer weeks ago and now he's gone. The tears I shed are for him and his kin. The tears I shed are for myself too. Our ages were close we both have/had toddlers too. We connected though he was a Chinaman and I was from Birmingham. He always wanted a family and I had said just hold Annie and you'll soon be holding your own. He held Annie and 1year later he was holding a daughter of his own. I was so happy for him, his name was one of the few I could pronounce and remember. He went back home to Bejing from Birmingham , he had a second daughter. He held a Phd , but he talked and behaved just like you and me. Now in the night gave up the fight , his life on this earth is over. His 3 girls he leaves behind. I have 3 girls too, his plight has deeply touched me, we are just leaves blowing in he wind. Our life is short , treasure your girls, no matter which way the wind blows. Kiss them goodnight, kiss them goodbye as you fly out the door, for one day you will see them no more. The tears I shed are for me, for all family, we must love our family as we love our God, there is no certainty in this life, just remember to love your wife. 0 comments share

Valentine's Poem

Jan 23, '09 5:32 PM for everyone

Michael G Casey email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com You're Never Alone When You Are in Love © By Michael Casey Love is being together , Love is a smile , a Look , A Touch Or Just A Sigh , Not really knowing why you chose one another . Yet Together Till You Die Love is a Kiss soft and gentle on the cheek which warms your heart and makes you glad you chose one another . A Kiss can lead to more but I'll leave Passion locked Safely behind a bedroom door Passion spent you'll not give up each not even for Lent . You'll just lie in warm embrace and remember you forgot to say grace . Whispers and Promises are made , plans for the future and if she put her hair this way , Do you think it would suit her ? Then giggles and more embraces , Till the Night is over and with a dig in the ribs you make him move over . Then your oneness complete , you have to put up with his cold feet ! But when you are apart your hearts are still one , Thought half is absent you are still one . His socks under the bed , and after what you said . His "toys" scattered about , and the clout you'll give when he returns and the warmth of your body he yearns . His cold feet to chill you after he thrills you , are absent yet the thought makes you smile , at least you have the comfort for a while. His grins and leers , which makes you smile at least you'll have peace for a while . But his heart is still with you , the love is always there - as bright as your fair hair . Close your eyes and he is still there , Remember the embrace as he played his fingers across your face . Let your dreams go and remember the whispers in your ear , warm kisses on your shoulder before he gets bolder . The warmth of love that soars through your blood . Dream long , Dream deep , your Man toils while you sleep , though you are apart you are still together whatever the weather , for you are never apart for he is locked in your heart . Though sometimes he can be trying , there's Never any need of crying for your love is Undying. Always remember he fills your heart even when you are apart End Its almost that time of year again so here's this 0 comments share

The Light from a Candle

Jan 23, '09 5:24 PM for everyone

I watched as the candle's life ended, smoke spiraled in the air. I tried to see where the smoke was going only it just disappeared into nothingness. Another candle came to an end,but suddenly it rared up a final flicker of flame then it was gone, black smoke twirling into the air. I strained to see where the smoke was going only it was no use. I'd need a magnifying glass, binoculars, a microscope or a periscope, smoke just could not be followed. Another candle went out again I strained to see where its life had gone, but it was no use, the trail disappeared into nothingness. The candles were going out randomly, I had to jump from one to another in a vain attempt to see its moment of death, so that I could observe what was happening to them. In all 7 maybe 8 candles "died" as I watched from my position sat next to the candle rack in the cathedral on my lunch break. That was all yesterday, and today the process was repeated.Each candle is a hope,a wish, a prayer. Just as Jazz music is music turned into smoke, that weavers and sneaks its way through an audience, a candle and its smoke is a living flame of hope and love which we all hope will touch God's spirit and let him hear our prayers. The smoke from a candle is like a ballet dancer doing the most intricate of dances, its like girl dancing with a ribbon at the Olympics. Only the candle and its smoke might say more for us when we cann't think of the right words to say, God Help Us, can be all we can say, but if said from the heart then it is enough, For Faith Moves Mountains. And candles are more than flickers that end in smoke, they remind us of the Light and Warmth of God's Love.  0 comments share

Let there be Light

Jan 23, '09 5:22 PM for everyone

Let my tears be my words Let the candle light be my eyes Let the flowers in bloom be my lips Let their scent be my blood Let the wind be my breath Let clouds be my mood Let childrens laughter be my hope Let widows sighs be my conscience Let a strangers prayers be my delight Let the bees be my wisdom Let the trees be my strength Let my patience reach to the stars Let me be always remembered in your prayers THE CORRECT LINKS ARE INSIDE MY BLOGGER PROFILE https://www.blogger.com/profile/08360300604946924721