The things that bind us

The things that bind us

Our Father Who Art In Heaven, these are the words that should bind Christians together. I’m a Catholic for what its worth, and immediately hatred begins. My daughters have both joined a C of E Choir and one will be Baptised there at Easter, even though I though she was already Baptised, this took place at the Chinese Evangelical Church 9 years ago, and I did dab water on her head within days of her birth.

So that’s 3 Christian churches where the family attend, I hope it means our prayers get answered sooner, though if you read Padre Pio and Me on my site www.michaelgcasey.multiply.com then you know I hit the jackpot years ago, spiritually that is, not in money terms.

None of this makes me or us holy, quite the reserve, I am in need of prayer. So its nice that new Muslim friends pray for me at Friday prayers, if any other faith group wishes to pray then I will be very happy to receive all and any prayers. I did write a nice poem which can be seen on my home page, but all in all Prayer for me is a deeply personal  thing. Its like the whispers in the night, its like the star lit sky, its the breeze on a summer’s day, its like the goodnight kiss from a child before they go to bed.

I just read a little about Melvyn Bragg in today’s DT, I wish I had a tenth of his intellect, but I do know that occasionally a few words  come to me which are much greater than I ever will be. Artists create and we struggle to understand what its supposed to mean, struggling with ourselves is the biggest struggle. The interior life is the biggest deal of all, its a never ending journey, sometimes along the way you get a “whoosh” perhaps when on a Pilgrimage, or when you are having a quiet sit-down   in a cathedral, you’re there to rest your sore feet on your lunch hour but then “whoosh” you get a poem or you witness something. I  spent 3 years+ of  lunch hours resting my feet in St.Phillips, its the C of E cathedral, St. Chads was too far away, I joked that I was trying to convert them to Rome.  I saw many things, such as a hugh bodybuilder lighting candles with his wafer thin girlfriend in tow. I was a voyeur while girls cried their eyes out, I just joined my prayers with theirs, a phantom prayer sayer hoping and helping them with prayers, not that they’d ever notice me.

Does all this sound old fashioned and useless, prayer is dead, God is dead, that’s what ignorant people say. So what should I say and do? I’ll just say what my mum always used to say, “God is Good.”

And so are we if we just stop and listen to the prayers on the wind, listen to the stars, beyond that curtain in the night sky.

Day dreaming(c) By Michael Casey

Daydreams © By Michael Casey

Daydreams ©

By

Michael Casey

I was just looking at Rightmove.co.uk, its one of my dream sites, there I have my dreams. What would it be like to own this house or that house, would it be big enough for my growing girls, would I get a bathroom of my own?

Dorine used to say her dad in Normandy was so happy when he had his own bathroom, I would be just as happy myself. I am the only man in a three female plus one household. I bought a new chair from Argos the other day, mine had collapsed after 6 years, thanks to my girls wanting to sit with daddy when films were on, and yes daddy does look a bit like Shrek. So I bought a small 2 seater  which is nice, only my girls have decided its just perfect for them, so I am relegated to the old and cold leather settee, my wife’s laughter is the only comfort.

So I look at Rightmove.co.uk for comfort, only what do I get only sadness, why, because the house of my dreams has been sold, not that I could afford it anyway but its good to dream. Our dad used to say if ever he won money he’d buy us all a house, so the concept no doubt springs from him, but he have us all a home, and that is built with Love so I laugh at myself as I look at the pretty houses. But IF I do win any money then a house it will be. There are lots up by the woods and only cost 3 times more than I’d get for my house, so winning the lottery or finally getting published is the only chance in hell that’ll I have. But strange things have happened in my life, luck and prayer do bring results, like my current job path.

So what’s my latest dream house? Well its up the road about a mile from where I am sitting and only twice as expensive as where I am now sat talking to you. It’s a nice large semi, or rather end of terrace, so by default a semi, with a garage too. So you could extend and make it bigger, if only you or rather I had the money. Hope springs eternal they say, so I hope that one day I will indeed have my dream house, what will it be and where will it be? God alone knows, but I will keep on dreaming, even if I have to wait 30 more years, and then I could be in an old people’s home, and all I’d have left would be dreams.

My daughters have vowed they’d visit me in the home, and one  has even offered some numbers for tonight’s lottery, so on that note I’ll just pop out to the shops and see if I can make my dreams a reality, good luck everybody.

Treasure for my Girls

Treasure for my girls © 

By 

Michael Casey

My sister was having a clear out prior to having her bedroom redecorated, so she was throwing away years of treasure and assorted rubbish. I had myself throw out an old armchair as we were having a new one, normally Sky Burial takes my rubbish away, however after 2 days nobody has taken my old chair away. 

There was a screech of brakes, my sister’s car came to a halt, she jumped out and hurled her rubbish onto my old armchair, with a wave she was gone. Monday is her choir practice so she had no time to waste, her tonsils were revving and ready to go, so she was gone. My daughters, her nieces dashed to the armchair in anticipation of treasure.

Once back inside our house, the pirates shared out the hoard, and what a good hoard it was. Clip on earrings in a variety of sizes and colours, necklaces of gold and silver, not forgetting broaches galore, one of which I recognised as a broach from an Irish Dancing shawl from 45years before. I could remember the jiggling and so forth, aunty had even won 4 medals, and when she had quit Irish Dancing the shawls were converted into curtains for the bathroom windows, our mum was a whiz on the sewing machine.

My girls shared out the treasure, singing the praises of the best aunty ever, so much treasure and it was all for them, not forgetting all the educational books you always get when your aunty is a teacher. Then my girls opened up shop as shop girls selling earrings and the like. Educational treasure that feed the imaginations, as well as the spirits, it could have been so easily thrown in the bin, but now it would have a new lease of life, thanks to the best aunty ever. 

My Dad My Best Friend

My Dad My Best Friend ©

By

Michael Casey

My dad was my best friend, no I’m not boasting, he really was my best friend. How can I say that, well it all started with having a 2nd ice-cream when all my brothers and sisters only had one. When you buy 8

ice-creams for your family buying another 8 is expensive, even in 1960s England. I got an extra one and my siblings called me the “pet” as they were jealous, to tease me they sung the song Michael Rows The Boat ashore, my dad used to say “leave the boy alone.” 

I suppose it was because I was the 5th child, the 5th child in 8 years and they were not expecting any more that I was spoilt a bit, and yes I did enjoy it. Dad always seemed to wear an old sports jacket and when he came back from his weekend trip to the pub after his week of being in the furnace, he always brought us back cheese and onion crisps in the blue bag. Dad really really loved us, as mum did too, I don’t know about other families but we knew we were loved, it wasn’t said and we didn’t hug loads, we were loved and we knew it. The sky is blue and the moon shines at night, it was as certain as that, we were loved.

I spent a lot of time talking to my dad, I was the penultimate one to leave home, we spent hours talking every night, we were both news junkies, or should I use today’s language, we love current affairs. We both  loved Sir Robin Day the journalist, I still love journalists, we even have one in our Chinese family. Simple perhaps naïve pleasures, these bond you, glue you to your family. My dad also encouraged all of us to save, he wanted all of us to have a good start, we had lodgers and most loved drink too much, so leaning from their bad example we all saved for our futures.

“What’s a bit of food,” said dad as we stayed at home, modestly downplaying his influence, his role, his love for us.

“Do what you like but do your best,” was his simple yet sage advice when I asked what subjects to do at 3rd year split. His children went to the best universities in the world, they worked hard, we followed his example. Dad would and could work 16hours a day, he even worked 7 days a week at times, perhaps even for years. A Kerryman will walk into Hell for his children and for 40years that’s exactly what he did. I hear people complain about this and about that and it makes me smile, people should try working as hard as my dad did.

My father survived a “fatal”  heart attack   back in 1996, I’ve written about it in Padre Pio and Me, he even found me a wife and perhaps even a job, then he had his last breakfast then he died. I did visit him every single day for over 3 years, then I met my wife. Dad lived long enough to see me marry, only today we found a photo of him holding my daughter in his arms; 8 months later he died, he died 5 days after I’d found another job after a long bleak spell. 

Do I miss him? No. The day he died I wept and howled like a tortured dog, but that’s normal. When my mother died  I did not shed a single tear, I’d been ordered not to cry years before, so when mum died I shed no tears, she was in Paradise so I shed no tears. And what of now ? Dad’s in Heaven too, no doubt wearing a big thick coat, when you’re used to a furnace anywhere else can be cold, I hope he’s enjoying watching his 4 grandchildren growing up. I also believe he’s now met the Chinese side of the family and together they drink tea, both Chinese and English while they debate just how Irish or Chinese my girls look. The Chinese grandfather and the Chinese great-grandfather watch from Heaven and both will have to admit having some Irish blood is not a bad thing at all, at all at all.

The End Of The World As We Know It

The End Of The World As We Know It ©

By Michael Casey

The Earth shook and our lives were changed forever.

The Water came and washed away all our hopes

Leaving us only with Fears.

The power station was thirsty for water, but there was none there.

Our people fled orderly, our  homes were gone, our roads were gone.

Washed away, Washed away.

We don’t deserve this, we don’t deserve this, the Emperor went on tv.

Our friends came to help us find our families, but they were gone,

But they were gone.

Our friends were gone, our homes were gone, the sea had come

But now it too was gone.

And what was left  behind?

Broken houses, like broken matches spilt all over the place, 

Nothing was the same, we awoke to a living nightmare, our beautiful country  was smashed.

We had run in fear, now we were scattered around our land.

Slowly slowly the dragon had climbed Mount Fuji, the dragon had roared across our land.

And what of  now?

Nagasaki and Hiroshima the nightmares from before had now returned as shadows to haunt us.

Our country lives on Satan’s fire, our beautiful Japan was now paying the price for its location.

Yet we still have love, Japan loves her own, our friends had come running to answer our call.

With Love we will again climb Mount Fuji, slowly slowly we will climb Mount Fuji.

Japan is a place of Love and Harmony, we will return, we will return.

With Love Japan will return, and again we will invite our friends for tea,

Because We are a Japanese Family.

King James Bible and Spike Milligan ©

King James Bible and Spike Milligan © 

By

Michael Casey

Well I was just watching Melvyn Bragg  and his King James Bible stories, previously I had watched the Spike Milligan  tribute. Now they are odd bedfellows, Spike in bed with a King but Spike was a friend of a future king, so it’s not really an odd combination.

Both have a love of words at their core, one the love of divine words that move and should guide to the right path; the other nonsense which makes us laugh, but laughter is a divine gift and if you can make people laugh I feel that is a gift from God.

People steal God’s words and corrupt them to their own corrupt cause, how often do people of no faith say that religion is the cause of all evil.

This can be a feeble argument by feeble people who just could not be bothered to allow themselves to be touched by any God of any faith. So that is sad and tragic even, its very hard to shift them from the God/faith/religion is the root of all evil. Words are weapons:-

Words have meaning words have power

Words are nothing but hot air

Words mean this words mean that

Words can set you free

Words can send you to jail

Words can be sprayed on a wall like cat's pee

Words can be printed on a press and sell millions

Words can be illuminated one at a time by Monks

Words are lies words are truth

Words can send you to war

Words can bring peace

We are Words

In the Beginning was the word

But what is the last word?

And what of Comedy? Spike touched a generation, they say he was the grandfather of modern comedy. His nonsense inspired a new generation, nonsense poetry that Edward Lear would approve of was his forte. Is God in nonsense? Yes I think he is, our existence is such a mad mad mad thing, in Melvyn’s programme it took firm believers to investigate our place amongst the stars, The Royal Society did reach for the stars, God had the matches to start the fire. What is before and what is after that’s a big big thing, I just hold my daughter in my arms and we look up at the stars together on a freezing cold nights, only a fool would believe there is no creator to such Beauty.

The final guest in the show pondered that the human mind is not good enough to work out the majesty of life and the universe.

Spike is in heaven and God is teaching him more nonsense verse, perhaps God was a fan of Spike’s, in truth God is the fan of all of us, for God fanned the fires of our creation.

My Horror Wife

My Horror Wife ©

By

Michael Casey

I’m finishing off a bit of work on the computer while my wife watches horror films, horror films and films  in general brought us together. When we met and before her English language skills emerged we used to watch films together, then we’d talk about the film we’d just watched, it was her speed of thought which made me realise she was indeed a clever cookie.

Some marry for looks, others marry for brains or money, me I was lucky I got both, though when I first met her she was wearing her scruffs. It was like something from Beauty and The Beast, I was the beauty and she was the beast, when she threw off her working clothes she did indeed look the beauty, she had been “hiding her pretty”.  Then for the last decade everybody says I married her for her looks, which  we know is rubbish, but convention says otherwise. 

Horror films are in her blood, no she is not some Dracula, or bride of Dracula, she is bride of Panzi, Panzi being my Chinese name, it means Fat Fat Boy. As I talk to you the music from the horror film is rising to a crescendo, there is even a gasp of shock from my wife, she is indeed having fun, so all you need to satisfy your wife is a TV licence. Simple, the best things in life are just like that. Vincent Prince, Christopher Lee and the whole host of horror films on the Sky channels have helped cement our marriage; all you need is blood rat at tat tar, as the Beatles might sing, blood is all you need, blood is all you need.

However the creek on the stairs has just as much power, the menacing music, the shadows, the screams in the night, they too have so much power, a howling in the dark, the sound of the dustbins being knocked over. It’s the fox in our garden again, or the squirrels fighting over their nuts. A scream is coming from our living room, first it’s the tv and then it’s the wife, scream and scream again.  It’s the wife screaming as I’ve just trod on her toe as I pass by on the way to the fridge, writing makes me thirsty, Netto milk is the answer.

So on into the night she waits for her frights, I may creep up behind her and say “BOO” just for fun, so its another normal night for the Chinese Caseys, and yes we really are related to the Adams Family.

Don’t forget to check under the bed before you go to sleep.