Bring On The Tears

Bring On The Tears ©

By

Michael Casey

What makes you cry? I’ve just wiped a few tears away before I started talking to you. Today in 11th Nov 2010, which is Remembrance day, it is also my dad’s Birthday, he would have been 89 today.

My dad was a man of peace who spent his life in the heat of the furnace,

The District Iron and Steel, Brasshouse Lane was where he worked for 40 years. He came over to England in 1944, he was a blacksmith. My father was a gentle man a kind and caring man, hew spoilt me he always got me an extra ice cream when he was on holiday, my many siblings called me Pet because of it. 

If there was a film on tv and it was touching, my dad used to clear his throat and pretend he  was getting a cold, he move to the kitchen to dab away those tears. Or he’d put the kettle on. My dad was very very strong, after our mum had died he said she was strong, he said mum was as strong as a horse, the highest compliment a blacksmith can make. My mother died in her sleep next to her  husband of nearly 50year. My brother climbed into the bed and cradled her in his arms and tried CPR but she was already dead. Eight weeks later, the same brother heard a noise, it was our dad falling out of bed. My brother laid dad down on the bedroom floor flat and started CPR, he screamed to another brother, 999.

My brother saved our dad.

I wrote all of this down in Padre Pio and Me. The bottom line, I have a Shanghai wife and 2 bilingual daugthers all because of my brother and Padre Pio too.

When we look at an object we have an association too, an object is not just an object its an association too.  The electrical socket for my washing machine is there because my dad put it there, it doesn’t mean I cry every time I do the laundry, but it does mean I smile. I have an old barn chair with the back broken off, my mum  used to stand on it when she washed the outdoor windows, its been in my house nearly a quarter of a century. This reminds me of my mum. In fact I sat on that chair with the old typewriter balanced on a red stool when I wrote my comic novel 

The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, I can even  remember when and where we bought that stool, it was 1973. Simple objects are full of memories and meaning. In Citizen Cane it was Rosebud the sledge  that meant so much when Cane died.

I had a pair of Rosary beads but I felt they were too gaudy, so I gave them to my mum. No doubt she used them well, she really knew how to pray. That may have been 15 to 20 years ago, now she’s gone, but my  brother said he had a spare set of Rosary bead would I like them. So he have them to me, he said they belonged to our mum, and yes they were the very same pair. So love and “objects” had performed a circle. My sister’s house has white lillies scattered all about her front garden, they only appeared after our mum had died. Mum had sneaked up to my sister’s house and planted them with Love. So after she was gone there appeared a reminder of her and her Love.

I have a speaker in the corner of my living room, my brother used to play Cream music on it via a reel to reel tape recorder. So that too has an association. I did in fact meet Eric Clapton when I was working in a 4star hotel, so that in a way was a circle.

There are many things and many lives that touch and connect with one another, such as the lolly pop lady when you do the school run, or the nice dog tied up outside a school waiting for the kids to  finish school.

There are grand gestures too, such as in My Big Fat Greek Wedding the dad buys his daughter a house, right next door to his own. All this is love in many many forms and I’ve just touched the surface. I can remember my mum crying her eyes out over a broken wooden coat hanger, why?

Because her mother had given it to her in 1944 when she had left Kerry for England. Many things Bring On The Tears, but they are tears of Love.

*******

well the 4 photos show the 4 of us, our family

Journalism and All That

Journalism and All that

Well the new look  Telegraph site  is all sleek and “sexy”, though it still stops me commenting in the right spot, so here’s something in the wrong spot.

I read the article about US v UK journalism it was a good read. But as we all know CNN is just a travelogue, I was in Shanghai on a family holiday in 2007 when Iran kidnapped some UK sailors. My only news source was CNN and the coverage was rubbish, and I mean rubbish. Piers Morgan taking over from Larry King, good luck to him, Piers makes entertaining shows, worth a look but still lightweight. Very watchable, but if somebody wants to give me half his resources then I can do better.

From what I’ve seen of US journalism they are all pompous when on tv, and when I used to read the NYT via internet the articles were too long, just as preachers sermons can be too long. Just get to the point. Yes I’ve enjoyed their journalism too, I can also say sometimes in The Daily Telegraph the article is too long as well.

Articles should have the Goldilocks factor, not too hot, not too cold, not too hard, not too soft, but just right. They should appeal to both the Sun reader and The Telegraph reader, and if I may copy US tv, Michael Casey’s blogs appear in both MySun and MyTelegraph not to mention www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com Happy Reading viewers.

Below are our photos, the modern Adams Family

Football Crazy

I speak as a football naive, I've only been to two matches in my life. It was Villa v Arsenal and Villa v Derby maybe 12 years ago.

But as I said to Barry at the time the crowd was alive, it was like a hugh cat moving and swaying reacting to the play on the pitch. The 1st match I was above the goal very high up. The 2nd match I was with Chris in the middle just a few rows up. Live football cannot be beaten, I cann't really explain how it looks and how it feels. Its like you're in a hugh jelly that you put on the washing machine and then somebody switches the washing machine on, so you wobble and wobble and  you have no control. Thats what a football crowd feels like. So much mass movement, so much excitement, 50,000 people  screaming and shouting, laughing and crying. The grass so very very green.

This is live football and when you have a master, and here you can take your pick from any team, ManU, Villa, Chelsea and all the other teams. When you have a master on the pitch it really is The Theatre Of Football. Act One, Act Two and even a few dodgy acts trying to impress the Ref, all of this is football. Live is always best. We've just moved up to a new big lcd tv this year, the difference to everything and to football is amazing. I imagine Sky's 3D is going to be totally fantastic too. Footballers are today's Gladiators, instead of Nero or any other Caesar raising his thumb  or condemning  to death, now we have Sir Alex, and the other managers raising their thumbs from their honoured position in the stands. It's an old quote but a true one, "is it a matter of life or death?" No its more important than that.

I have a lot to learn about football, but I do know one thing, the game is better when all of the players are on the pitch

in their natural area and not in self imposed "cages" whatever those "cages" are. For footballers  are like lions, they are born free, free as the wind, chasing and ducking and diving, their prey is the football, and the net is their home.

Teddy Bear Cull

Teddy Bear Cull ©

By

Michael Casey

Well we all know about Teddy Roosevelt and how he could not bring himself to shoot a bear while out hunting. Teddy Bear came into existence. Thousands of bears, millions of bears, probably more bears than there are people in China have “Lived” thanks to teddy. I bought my future wife a panda  when we first met, the panda was made in China, just as she was.  In fact she used to say I was her Panda before she changed her mind and called me Panzi which means FAT FAT BOY.  So that panda travelled from China to England and then back to China, and then she brought it back home to England  when she came back to me, that’s 15,000 miles by my reckoning. My daughters have been back and forth a few times, when you marry a Shanghai girl international travel is inevitable.

Girls just love their teddy bears too, my smallest just adores Winnie the Pooh, she was saying a few hours ago she wished she could have a Winnie the pooh bed and carpet and wallpaper, basically everything that could possibly be Winnie the Pooh. My girls have received lots of cuddly toys, teddy bears and all things cuddly. I did a count a while back and I stopped at 40. These toys live behind the settee next to the vacuum cleaner and my old collection of CDs. Every now and then my small daughter drags them out from the 3 Iceland carrier bags and makes them pay attention, she plays teacher and they are her class. She then takes the register before starting to read to them. The cuddly toys sit up straight listening eagerly while she reads to them, she is quite a strict teacher.

Now a while back while the wife was tidying up the plastic bag with the cuddly toys broke open scattering teddies everywhere. So we had  to have a cull, you have to feed fizzy pop gently to the toys until they fall asleep only to awake at the North Pole where Santa welcomes them and makes them as good as new until they become new toys for new owners. We had to have another cull today, my small daughter separated the sheep from the goats so to speak. Then the unwanted toys were placed in an Iceland carrier next to the front door, no fizzy pop for them, just a plastic bag, in the morning they will find themselves in a charity shop soon to have new children to love them. There was one cuddly toy  a hush puppy dog that we had brought back from   Florida years ago neither of my girls liked it, but I do so I have rescued him from the Iceland bag, he can live on top of my bedroom Dab radio. I cannot decide what to call the dog, my new best friend, HushPuppy maybe, or Subway the dog.

Christmas is coming so the smaller cuddly toys have been saved and will decorate our house one Christmas gets nearer. For now my daughter has  arranged them on top of the piano, looking over my shoulder I can see, Winnie the Pooh(of course), Tigger and another Winnie the Pooh, a snowman with bells, a cat from Shanghai who’s chasing Minnie Mouse along the keys, it sounds like Jazz and finally there is a smiling teddy with Christmas hat and gloves on. Well I hope the toys find nice new homes via the Charity shop, as for me I hope HushPuppy/Subway hasn’t left any messages on my Dab radio.

Terra Cotta Army not in China but a copy in Germany near Frankfurt/Wellburg

I was there in 2008 its well worth a look

From Fireworks to The Grave

From Fireworks to The Grave ©

By

Michael Casey

The girls were singing at  a Wedding Yesterday morning, they came home telling us about the bride and groom. They also heard that there was a fireworks display that night. They  asked could they go, so I said yes if they behaved.

They behaved all afternoon, so at half past six I nagged them top put on full winter gear, hat, coat, scarf and gloves. They wouldn’t believe me that it would be that cold outside but I explained it would. So reluctantly they put all the layers on. The witch as we call my wife drove up to the firework display. It was behind the church where they had been singing a few hours earlier. My wife, or the witch said she’d collect us a few hours later, she said I could ring her. Only I had forgotten to bring the mobile phone, I have only acquired a mobile phone this year and I don’t really know how to use it, an I don’t really want it either, its for emergencies, its on the Asda tariff because that’s the cheapest. Its my wife’s 1st phone. Anyway we said goodbye and we went to watch the firework show.

Only there was a problem, the price to attend was too much, I have to watch every penny at the moment and I didn’t think it was worth it anyway. So we stood on the pavement in front and to one side of the church. From that vantage point we enjoyed the fireworks display, a bit like watching tv though your neighbours window. There were a  few other families who did the same. So we watched the fireworks while my 9 year old filmed it on our old digital camera, she was very pleased with her efforts. I promised them we’d buy sweets and pop to make up for not seeing the fireworks display officially. My girls understood and after 20mins of illegal watching of fireworks we started to walk home. As I had forgotten the phone we’d have to walk and not get a lift from mum. But I do know how to improvise, it’s a gift I do have.

We stopped at the 1st sweet shop and they roamed around, but girls being girls they could not make up their minds, so they left that sweet shop with nothing. Now from the church to our house is a good 25min  walk and is twisty and curvy and runs alongside the woods at Warley Woods and golf course. So as its was the Eve of Haloween I asked them did they want to walk through the dark woods. No they  both said, but I knew they would like it so we crossed on the crossings which cross the race track of a road. The boldly we went a few yards into the dark dark woods.  We were only there for a minute but it was a good thing to do so close to Halloween. Then we crossed back to the safer side of the road. My smallest daughter wanted a rest so we stopped at a bus stop  and sat on the plastic seats, I told them that I had a bus pass, would they like me to leave them there while I jumped on the bus.

After a couple of minutes rest we resumed our trek back, were we like the Von Trapp family, no Swiss mountains for us, only the long and winding road. The kids could see the retaining wall of their school, from that point on, even in the dark they knew their way home. Spirits lifted I had an idea. My big daughter’s friend lived just down the road on a side road. So when we were outside her friends house we did ghostly noises, just like in Michael Jackson’s Thriller. I thought I made the best screams. Sadly no lights went on in the house, not unless we had given her nan a heart attack.

Further down the road by the light of a front room we could see a child in a witches 

Hat he was pretending to be a witch. It turned out that he  was a friend of my other daughter,  this was too good an opportunity to miss, so again we made ghost and ghoul noises. The child inside lifted the curtain to check was the devil outside, no it was only us. My big daughter laughed and laughed when she say his face appear, she hid beneath the high retaining front wall and then ran laughing to use further down the road.

We went to Thimbermill and got our chocolate and Dr Pepper, we had had some fun after all. My small daughter had said when we were in the dark dark park that she had

Seen a cross, we were in a graveyard. I think it was the support posts for a sapling, not unless it was….

Finally home we decided to scare mum, our resident witch, so my big daughter did her big scream and she managed to scare the neighbours over the road.

but mum had the last laugh, she was sitting in dark watching a Chinese movie on the internet so when we entered the house she scared us.

Well that’s how we enjoyed our Saturday night. Tonight 31st Oct 2010 we had several trick or treats at the door, so I just screamed back I’mdead,” followed by my best Vincent Price scream/laugh. But the kids and parents weren’t impressed. Today does mark an anniversary, its 11years since I was made redundant from CAN    been a few varied years, and best of all I have two daughters whom I can stroll in the dark with

Don’t tell anybody though, my witch is more like Bewitched

My Armchair

I did actually bust my armchair the other day. My kids do sit on the arm rests with me while we watch films, Camp Rock, High School Musical etc for the zillionth time.

My wife used to sit on my lap in my rocking chair, the rocking chair lasted 18 years. So the current armchair may be 6 years old. I was lucky with the rocking chair because it was part of a suite, in fact it was the only reason I bought the suite.  As  for the current armchair it was part of a suite too but the customer did not want it so I picked it up cheap for £45, yes only £45. All my girls do squeeze onto it while they watch Phoenix TV, now the bottom has fallen out of the chair, we've had to put a big cushion under the seat of the chair. So that'll do until we can save up for a new armchair. I had a quick look in two furniture shops and its £200 plus just for a single armchair. I will go back to the same furniture shop where I picked up my bargain 6 years ago, but I'm not holding my breath.

Rocking chairs are great and I'd love to have another furnished rocking chair, perhaps I could be a rocking chair tester, or the NHS could send me one of their new vibrating chairs. A good chair is a thing of beauty in itself, and the rocking is very soothing too, and with a nice drink in your hand then that is poetry in itself. Cue Queen's Song We Will Rock You.

When our dog long ago broke its pelvis he was saved by the vet, and we placed him in our dad's old armchair when the dog came home. When our dad came home from the steelworks the poor dog got out of the armchair because he knew it was dad's chair, I remember it so well. Our cat used to enjoy an armchair too, soft and cosy, she'd fall asleep purring like a Jaguar car.

So the point of all this musing? Enjoy your armchair, because your kids and wife and finally grandkids love that chair too, in one object you capture the word family.

p.s. cross your fingers so I find a cheap replacement

Michael 

www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com 

The Simpsons are modern Shakespeare

The Simpsons are modern Shakespeare ©

By Michael Casey

I just read a piece in this morning’s DT it was about the Vatican’s newpaper and the Simpsons.

The DT comment button did not work so I’ve written this piece instead.

Shakespeare touches all of us, once we learn or are taught how to understand it. It may mean a West Side story experience. It may mean Shakespeare in Love or a  modern version with Leonardo di Caprio.

But it is all Shakespeare, yes I know the literati  will moan as the always do, but underneath it is Shakespeare. It’s the universality of it, www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com for my stuff, more like an Ealing Comedy. But back to today the Vatican/Jesuit take on the Simpsons. My girls tease and say I’m like the dad in the Simpsons, I tell them I’m much much slimmer. Comedy pokes fun and draws us closer together as we laugh at what’s happening, and a big part is laughing at others’ suffering, PC people will spin in their  graves, and the sooner the better.

There was  a really good series on tv about Shakespeare and how he could have been a secret Catholic amongst other things, not to mention his eclectic background, he could touch bases with so many things because of his life experience. So the Simpsons touch bases with us because it highlights the worst in us all, and then we laugh at ourselves, there is no “I couldn’t possibly  be like that” because we ARE like that. I suppose in the New Testament the common touch in the language/life draws us towards the Divine, The Simpsons could it be called the common man’s Bible? I don’t know, you’ll have to read more of the Bible and watch more of the Simpsons. And ask the Jesuits who write the Vatican newspaper, me I’m going to find my deck of cards you may remember the song.