A sample of my essays.
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Essays And Plays ©
By
Michael Casey
This is a collection of Essays and Plays.
The Dead and The Living (c)
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 existence 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 theirbeautiful or even ugly
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
The trouble with Technology (c)
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 you 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
thatI'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 theyare
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 .
End
20/4/2001
Michael G Casey
Email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
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 cut--outs 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 inHistory ,
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
myplay 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 can’t unzip your files , its like wanting sex but your zipper is broke and you
can’t get your trousers off . Such a strong urge , but no fulfilment .
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
werejust , 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
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 theworld
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 canactually make
people cry with laughter , and I don't know why , the tears
of laughter just flow , so perhaps when I write I should just relax and
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 thing 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 can't be bad .
Jee Ji revealed her uncles' 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 wonderful , 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 , because her English isvery 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 I gave 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
hard 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 catalogue , I just have to hope that with "The help of God and Two
Policemen " as my mum always used to say my old "stuff" will pass the
Chinese filter and get 100 out of 100 , and then a Chinese uncle in Miami
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 chair as she reads , as I watch for
smiles I admire her beauty , though I call her and "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 each other , that's why I have a Chinese critic of my
British humour , and yes God really DOES have a truly 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 peoplelaugh 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 electronic 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 unbelievable 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 ?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 deliberately , 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 truly 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 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 brazenness , then she wouldn't be so shy , then she'd
have a steady boyfriend . When she reached 25 she promised herself thatshe'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 wardrobe . She really
was a shy girl , some might think a frump , just to judge by outward
appearences , it’s 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 can'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 assumed 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 asnice 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 out loud
, "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 mybreast now" ,
perhaps she was longing for the 50s , even though now it
was nearing the millennium . 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 . EndSep00The 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 separate 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 itbefore 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 ritual , 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'stime 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 , and 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 movement of the stars across 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 .
EndThe Light from a Candle ©
By Michael Casey
I watched as the candle's life ended, smoke spiralled 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 reared 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 can'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
*****
well Tinnitus continues to kill me, its the worse thing ever in my life
and yes I've had much pain and sorrow
that's why I face the other way and do Comedy
or my version of it
It's self therapy
Now go out and make at least one person a day smile
and no there are no naked photos of
ME ,
i'm more like the Elephant Man covered in scars
thank you for the card Martina in Kerry, and hello to all the Casey Clan too
I'd email you all if I had an email address, but 40 first cousins and with the next generation
we are talking 100s of Caseys and I never forget the family farm too
Dan Casey and Willie looked after you, with Maggie Ralerty next door neighbour
and. before I forget hello to the other side of the family in Cromane and Ballyheigh
1973 Christmas, me and my dad did the tour with Delia
and in 1977 and 1978 Christmases me alone ,I taught you the Dying Fly Dance
such great memories, which are like a candle the dark
making me so so happy
teach your kids to fly..
