A Winter's Tale

A Winter’s Day
As I look from my window I see the blue blue sky. Birds dive and soar better than any circus acrobat, they are painting a picture with their wings. Tiny tiny whisps of white cloud remain, like left over candy floss on a childs face, like white whiskers on a very old woman’s face.
Curtains are pulled open and windows are inched open too, daylight and fresh air to bedrooms shuttered down against a cold winters night. People stand and yarn and scratch too as they struggle to wake up fully. Then one or two realise they don’t wear any pyjamas so they hurry away from their windows, their wives, their husbands, their lovers laughing at their stupidity. At least old Mrs Jones may have had a thrill.
The sounds of morning, of daylight rise. Slowly the sound of the milk float, the sounds of milk bottles clinking together as the milkman does his rounds, this way and that. The sound of of Mrs Murphy walking her dog, the dog panting in the cold winters air. He doesn’t have a sheepskin coat to keep him warm. He has his own fur coat but this winter is a cold one, so Goldie the dog could do with an extra coat too.
People dance down their door steps to their car, nagging children to hurry up as its cold. Children write their name in the frost on their neighbours’ cars before being told off. John the neigbourhood jogger rushes past, the kids stick their tongue out at him, he does the same, they all laugh, only for John to miss his stride slip on an icy patch and fall to the ground hurting his elbow as he does so. Still laughing the kids get inthe car and are taken off to see grandpa, John is rubbing his elbow and his bum as he gets ups gingerly.
The lads, we are so hard, appear from their homes to noisily attack the day, Sunday is for shouting, but not too loud, as they have headaches and hangovers, did they really chat up that ugly fat girl, but they gave her his brother’s mobile number and not his own. They stride off to the news agent for The News Of The World, just for the sports pages, their mums can read the scandal section and the horoscopes.
One or two black people wearing their Sunday best pass by on their way to church, a throwback to decades before when people still went to church and when people still wore their Sunday best. People used to dress up to go to the theatre too, but now, but now.
I reach for the kettle and have my first coffee of the day, coffee with milk and no sugar, the way English people have coffee, not the American way, just the soft English way. My kids want toast and peanut butter, or cheese on toast, so my 3 slices of toast become one slice of toast as I feed my girls. I nag them to put slippers and socks on, yes we have nice carpet but in the winter’s weather they are always getting colds, so I nag them, I nag them. My wife nags them in Chinese too, or Shanghai dialect. The phone rings, its Germany calling, or rather my wife’s best friend who’s calling from Germany, the cackle or hens, of chickens clucking is the noise these 2 Shanghai girls make, as they talk in Shanghai, when are we coming back to Germany is the message. Cluck cluck cluck.
The sky has changed the blue has changed to grey, will the snow return, its been a snowy winter over here in Birmingham, some parts of the country have had the worse weather in 20years. The children have quietened down, my wife has relented and put a nature program on the tv for them. As for me I was going to try and write a poem but instead you see what’s before you. I’m half listening to Mike and The Mechanics a cd I’ve loaded to the computer, “give me the simple life” he sings, I suppose my life is a simple life too. But if we can see the poetry in life then we enjoy the simple things which make up all are lives. All our lives are poetry if only we take the time to watch and listen, while we’re making toast for the kids.

Afternoon Atheist

I spent the afternoon with my friendly atheist he was condemning God, he thought God existed but only as a bad and evil thing. He assumed a lot about my faith, and was wrong about it and me. Now should I bother to try and convert him? Should I point him in the direction of his local church where he could find himself a nice wife. Do  people go to church to finds wives, now that's  another question. Or should I let him carry on until he  stumbled over his own direction. I did explain how I stood by my fridge and asked God to intervene in my life, my 3 wishes so to speak, its in my essay Padre Pio and Me  on my site. And then as if by magic I met my Shanghai wife. However atheists put themselves in a box, a cold steel box and throw away the key, and they are not Houdini's who can escape, they are like collapsed dead stars deep in the cold of space.
Does family make us believe in God? Wishing for a family was one of my 3 wishes. I got all my luck in one go is what my Kerry cousins say. You ask for anything will do and you get the best, better than all the rest as the song goes.
THe autumn leaves fall and Life will soon die, winter will come and cold will desend, but in the spring there will be growth as Chance the gardener. How to plant a seed where there is forever autumn as another song goes. How do you plant a seed in an atheist's heart does he have to suffer  a dark night of the soul before  like a caterpillar  he emerges as a beautiful butterfly?  Its a difficult question especially when I got my faith at the nipple. Others of many faiths learnt their faith when they were toddlers, the trendy I'll wait till they grow up so they can decide for themselves always strikes me as child neglect of the worst sort.
Christmas  is a happy time full of innocence and hope, perhaps I should drag my friend to Midnight Mass and let him hear carols, silent night holy night. When we sing and remember our family members who have gone ahead. Should I make him look up at the stars overhead twinkling to eternity, for there is always hope. Hope springs Eternal.

What are words for ?

Words are for  what? ©

 

By Michael Casey

 

Words are for  what? Conversation,  a chat, gossip, juicy gossip, a quiet word, a stern word, a protest, a scream,  a shout, a murmur, whispers, a buzz or just plain old prattle.

Today the news is full of the Labour Party, much is being said and not said, how will the future be, will they the brothers  bury the hatchet, do they wish to bury the hatchet in one another’s head. Are they both lying about everything? Or are they both champions of truth. One thing is certain the  Tories  just love this result.

Political reporters just love it too, those politic al reporters are prettier nowadays  too, I remember when I was a child it was just Robin Day in his dickybow  talking to other men about politics. I once saw Robin Day in the street, he was a really fast walker. Now Robin Day was great with words, he could and would call somebody a %%%$$%^&& to their face  but he used such elegant words, it would be an honour to be dumped on by him. Robin Day’s most famous quote was “Some here today gone tomorrow politician.” He said that to Sir John Knott when the Falklands War kicked off, John Knott walked off set. At the time nobody knew where the Falklands were, were they in extreme northern Scotland?

Words though do have so much strength. Hitler knew this, and look what happened. Other evil leaders did the same thing, pick your own despot.

Sometimes all it takes is a word and things can be healed. Sorry is the hardest word to say as the song goes. Kids  play in the playground and harsh words are said, kids are cruel is what any teacher will tell you. “Take it back” is another catchphrase, then you have to say the magic formula of words and all is healed. Or is it? With kids in the playground, or between brother and sister yes, hopefully. But with international relations? Pick your own dispute.

Love songs have so much  power, or certain words can tickle us and make us smile, or make us angry. When I was in Shanghai in 2000 meeting the family at one dinner a 13year old boy was proud to sing a song he knew in English, Michael Row the boat ashore. He grew whiskers on his chinagin the wind came out and blew them in again. The Chinese boy was so proud. It was the same song that my brothers and sisters used to sing to me to make me cry. I think I laughted in 2000. In 2007 at another dinner I met him again, he asked did I remember him, he was now as big as myself. Of course I remembered him, how could I forget that song and the association. I told the Chinese lad to keep up with the English and do Law at Uni. I was  working at a law firm at the time.

A way a woman dresses has a lot of power over a man, it leads to the power of love. The way a man dresses has power over a woman, a fireman for  example. The way a man undresses has power over a woman too, the Chippendales  or The Full Monty…..

But back to words, if they are not matched by action then they are like steam coming off a coffee on a train, just evaporating into nothingness. A  few simple words with action attached is better than a hurricane for blowing inaction away. My last uncle died recently and after the funeral his son in law said “He didn’t say much but when he did it was worth listening to.” He  was a quiet man, but he was  loved so much, and his words were worth their weight in gold.

Cobwebs of Love

Kids need good parents, friends we choose for ourselves, your families you get anyway.

I'm lucky I had great parents. Faith does help, but kids get bigger and decide for themselves if their parents were talking rubbish or were worth listening too.

Kids travel and find their own way home to their faith and their families. Elastic is very important in relationships and faith. If you try to keep things set in stone then you will be in for a fall. Nothing is set in stone, friendships change and alter and our own understandings change and alter.

Have a bit of elastic in your life is my best advice. You are not in an army and getting up at 5am and doing all the marching and so forth. Yes have discipline and rules, but be aware IF you force somebody to do something when they have the chance to rebel then they will. You

cannot chain anybody to you or your faith, brainwashing is a bad idea, listen to the Genesis song Jesus we know him.......

So you bind your family and friends and faith to you by cobwebs of love and nothing stronger than cobwebs of love. Love should be like that its a cobweb of love, also be happy to have a Prodigal Son in your life, happy because you will always welcome them back. If you're lucky you'll never have any Prodigal sons

in your life but I already tell my kids I'll always love them and they can always come home, leave your doors open with cobwebs of love waiting there

Bicycle Removals Firm

The Bicycle Removals Firm © 

By

　

Michael Casey

                 

                Today's blog is inspired by what I saw through the window.

And what did I see? Well you may have all seen The Quiet Man with

John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara. In it a spare bike is "carried" by somebody already riding one. It no doubt takes great skill.

It wasn't that I saw but something much more intriguing, I say a man on a bike carrying a mirror under his arm. Not the newspaper, but a  real mirror, a 3.5foot  one under his right arm. He also had it mirror side out, so no doubt several car drivers would have been dazzled.

Later on as I sat here at the computer I saw him again, this time he had an ironing board under his arm, at least the legs weren't sticking out.  He just pedalled past. I was wondering what would happened next. I was thinking it was nearly time to collect the girls from school when he came walking past carrying a heavy bundle on his shoulder.

As we walked home I told my girls what I'd noticed, I always try and teach them to be observant, such as seeing the new trendy sign over the help the aged charity shop today. And as we walked home why the policeman had got out of the panda car near the bank, to go to the cash point and then

go to Subway for his sandwich.

I explained to my girls  that the  man on the bike must be moving house,  but he didn't have a car so  he was DIY moving with the aid of a bike. My mother once put on all her clothes and then walked home to Cromane Kerry because she had no suitcase so she wore everything. Her mum had belted her for her stupidity, this would be in the 1930s. I encouraged my daughter to use the bike man as a  story for her next English lesson, she said it was  not her style.  Then as we closed the front door, who did we see? The man  on his bike with a mixing desk under his arm, my daughter laughed, but her  little sister had the last laugh, she'd found the chocolate biscuits.

So what can I say, I hope that if ever we move house, if ever I sell my 3 books then I hope we can at least have a van to transport our things. Or perhaps I could self upgrade from a bicycle removal service to a  bus removal service, I do have a bus pass after all.

www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com

Would Cardinal John Henry Newman Agree with Me?

Here in Birmingham England the Pope will tomorrow announce that John Henry Newman is Blessed, if you've watched the TV coverage so far Catholics are very happy.

So that made me think of an old post which I'll paste in below.

                What is Prayer ? What is Love? ©


                             By


                       Michael  Casey


What is Faith? We are told in one Bible passage that if a man can do many things yet there is no Love then man has achieved nothing. I remember this being read at grammar school at the morning assembly. . Sorry if I cannot quote it verbatim. I'd come home from work and my dad would be sitting down in the living room his dinner on a chair so he could watch the news,he'd have the first bite raised to his mouth. I'm not hungry he'd say and offer me his dinner. This is love. Another time, another shift pattern. I'd come home at 11p. Dad would wait up to see me before he'd go to bed, he'd be up at 5am for his work the next morning. This is the standard I'm used to, I'll do the same for my own children. Its normal, it’s obvious. To me anyway.
My mother used to watch Dallas on tv after she'd fed all her children, one hand in her apron as she watched tv. Only the hand always jumped in her pocket, she was saying the rosary while she watched tv. Very Irish,very motherly. Very normal, the standard I got used to. Countless mothers the world over do the same. They may be Christians, they may be of a multitude of different Faiths, yet one thing in common. Love, love of God, love of family, love of children . And do we thank our parents for this love? If we didn't and now our parents our gone, then do we live with regret all our lives . No, this would be folly. We can thank our parents and our God by being good parents, by trying to copy the good example shown to us . I met my wife in the retirement home where my dad lived after his near fatal heart attack, which happened 8 bare weeks after my mother died in her sleep. My dad lived long enough for me to meet/marry and have a granddaughter. As I gaze on my daughter's face I often say "thank you". Thank You to God for allowing me a wife and for having a daughter. An extremely beautiful daughter,healthy and funny. I have to show the moon to my daughter because she thinks its so pretty, she loves stars too , not yet 22months old and she knows the wonder of creation . As I look upwards and see the cold beauty of space I know how lucky I am. I know how lucky I am. Lucky enough to cry, which I do on occasions. My tears are my humble thanks and praise of God. I have a family. July 96, mom was gone 2 months, and dad was  now given 1 week to live. So after 3years of constant visits to the seniors home I met my wife, my Shanghai China. So yes I cry in the dark of the night as I look up at the stars . I am a lucky man, because I had good parents, I know I did . I hope everybody could be as lucky as me .....

well I hope this reads ok , I couldn't think of any poetry , I just hope telling it plain catches the spirit , the spirit of love . One word, one look, one sigh, one flicker of the eyes, each of these is a prayer, a deep prayer . A prayer of hope, pray, hope and don't worry is a motto I try to live by that’s all the advice I can give

michael

www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com 

My New Computer Part 2

A new home computer is an event. You think how quick it will be. You prepare by backing up your files, but you have so many of them. Then you have email accounts and  favourite sites and so forth. You think you've thought of  everything but you haven't. BUT you do have a safety net, you've emailed your important files to yourself, in fact you have a couple of email accounts so your stuff can be safe. Only you forget the passwords.

I'm sure we've all done it. Luckily the nice folks at Google can help. But then there is GMX can they fix it too? 

Then you get 60 day trial of software  from Norton which features an online backup, so your files are safe on a server in the USA. 

So I had loaded our family photos  to the new PC and then deleted them  from the memory stick thing. 

So that was ok, only I then lost them from the new PC. So I have to rely on Norton, only there's a glitch, I can see my files on their  Server but I cannot restore them to my PC. It may just be I need to click somewhere I cannot see. So I send an email to Norton, thats a couple of hours ago,  but I'm  sure those guys are just as nice as Google. 

Have I learnt my lesson. Yes, buy 2 memory sticks and don't delete anything.

Footnote I first used a computer back in 1978, DEC PDP 1170s but then computers were as big as washing machines and dealt in megabites and tape decks were as big as wardrobes.