SLAINTE !

GROWING OLD DISGRACEFULLY

A woman walked up to a little old man rocking in a chair on his porch.
"I couldn't help noticing how happy you look," she said. "What's your secret for a long happy life?"
"I smoke three packs of cigarettes a day," he said. "I also drink a case of whiskey a week, eat fatty foods, and never exercise."
"That's amazing," the woman said. "How old are you?'
"Twenty-six," he said.

SNOWTIME !

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ON FROZEN POND

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The Big Freeze continues as the nation grinds to a crawl, we are definitely not able to deal with this arctic blast and the novelty of waking up to a frosted landscape is beginning to wear off. To lighten my tundra state of mind I penned this little ditty to be sung to the tune of ‘Let It Snow’ and took a few pictures of the Westfields wetlands that are a few minutes walk from where I live. Enjoy… ~GOSh.~

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Oh the winters grip is tightening
The government response is frightening
The schools are staying closed
Cause of snow, cause of snow. cause of snow.

No buses or trains are moving
Conditions are not improving
A and E’s are packed to the door
Cause of snow, cause of snow, cause of snow.


Chorus
Now there’s little else to add
Its all going a bit astray
This weathers not just a fad
Looks like its here to stay.

Our grit supplies are used up
And although we need to wrap up
The National mood is about to blow
Cause of snow, cause of snow, cause of snow.

This green and pleasant place
Has got a brand new white-washed face
And we’ve all no place to go
Cause of snow, cause of snow, cause of snow.

But the kids are so enthralled
While their parents are appalled
Snowmen stand proud in a row
Cause of snow, cause of snow, cause of snow.

So despite the ice not thawing
And the cold that keeps on gnawing
We all must patience show
Cause of snow, cause of snow, cause of snow.

TALKING BLIND

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YOU AND I

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I explain quietly. You

hear me shouting. You

try a new tack. I

feel old wounds reopen.

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You see both sides. I

see your blinkers. I

am placatory. You

sense a new selfishness.

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I am a dove. You

recognize the hawk. You

offer an olive branch. I

feel the thorns.

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You bleed. I

see crocodile tears. I

withdraw. You

reel from the impact.

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Roger McGough

DEATH OF PAUL MALONE

of

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Paul Malone,

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died, January 2010

.I learned today with sadness of the death of Paul Malone, who was an active and enthusiastic member of the early Charismatic movement here in Limerick during the 1970’s. I knew Paul from countless conversations in the Christian bookshop and at various street corners where he was a regular sight as he strolled through the city. Paul had an encyclopedic knowledge of Limerick and he told many a story of its past and the prominent role played by the Catholic church over the years. He had, as a young man studied to be a monk at nearby Glenstal Abbey but did not complete the training as he found the constraints of ‘religious’ life intolerable. He also recalled a stint in the British army and he served in Africa and other foreign parts which opened him up to a world outside the narrow confines of a conservative provincial city.
All his life Paul was a great reader and he had the ability to remember in detail everything he read making him a formidable opponent in any debate. Along the way Paul read the Bible which changed his life forever, leading him to involvement with the fledgling Catholic Charismatic movement and later with a local Pentecostal group. Sadly Paul never felt inclined to commit his rich repository of knowledge to writing and so this legacy has gone with the man.
I recall being in town one afternoon with my friend Tony Ryan and we met Paul who was homeward bound, stopping to chat it wasn’t long before he began to quote from one of his favourite Christian writers, Finis Jennings Dake. As we were about to part Paul extended the invitation to walk home with him to see his library, a proposal to which we both gladly acceded , relishing the prospect of seeing this voracious reader’s book collection. Bringing us upstairs Paul waved his hand towards a solitary bookshelf which held about 10 volumes, saying, " this, gentlemen is my library ". Seeing our underwhelment he explained that he had a policy of passing a book on after he had read it , so the depleted shelves. On another occasion I was at a wedding reception in company with Paul and his wife as the band struck up for a waltz. Throughout the opening bars of the music Paul sat there explaining rather uniquely, " both my wife and I love to dance, but never with each other " Later he proved the point by dancing with practically every other woman in the hall but not his wife, and she did likewise!
In later years Paul’s health deteriorated and over time sadly I lost contact with him. He was one of those people who figure larger than life in memory, with his crisp rhetorical flourishes, his photographic recall of information and his contagious enthusiasm for the Scriptures. Paul never pretended the Christian way was an easy one and he was open about his own personal struggles, but he always conveyed an excitement and intellectual curiosity about every aspect of the faith and spirituality in general.
It was always a joy and an education to meet Paul Malone and listen as he explored an aspect of the Scripture or shared nuggets from the latest book he was reading. A street walk through Limerick is all the poorer for his passing and the city has lost one of its most erudite and colourful sons. Paul is survived by his wife Anna, and sons Paul and Brian.
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Gerard O'Shea

LIFT UP MY EYES

'And the old man prays' by Barbara Lemley

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PRAYER

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Let me do my work each day; and if the darkened hours of despair overcome me, may I not forget the strength that comforted me in the desolation of other times.

May I still remember the bright hours that found me walking over the silent hills of my childhood, or dreaming on the margin of a quiet river, when a light glowed within me, and I promised my early God to have courage amid the tempests of the changing years.

Spare me from bitterness and from the sharp passions of unguarded moments. May I not forget that poverty and riches are of the spirit. Though the world knows me not, may my thoughts and actions be such as shall keep me friendly with myself.

Lift up my eyes from the earth, and let me not forget the uses of the stars. Forbid that I should judge others lest I condemn myself. Let me not follow the clamour of the world, but walk calmly in my path.

Give me a few friends who will love me for what I am; and keep ever burning before my vagrant steps the kindly light of hope.

And though age and infirmity overtake me, and I come not within sight of the castle of my dreams, teach me still to be thankful for life, and for time's olden memories that are good and sweet; and may the evening's twilight find me gentle still.

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Max Ehrmann

QUIET AND WHITE

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IT'S SNOW MAN !

Its nearly all over now, the Christmas, the New Year the whole holiday shebang. Domesticated involuntarily by the harshness of an Arctic turn to the weather this year the old cliché of Christmas being a family time was more strictly adhered to than usual.


As a result many mums and dads have been seen shrieking wildly at the first onset of opportunity to leave the family hearth (surrounded by screaming kids for whom the novelty of Santa’s trove has already worn thin!) and take tentative steps of freedom on icy pavements or frosty streets as bargains are hunted in the January sales.

To the perennial old question, ‘How did you get over the Christmas?’ the answer this year was always the same, ‘Very quiet, didn’t get out much’. I experienced the hazards of real winter weather on Christmas morning as I drove in from Pallaskenry at snails pace on icy roads, at one point on the brow of the hill near Hegarty's Cross in Ballymartin I almost baulked at he sparkling decline before me.

Before I left Mag’s place a neighbour who drives the biggest tractor I’ve ever seen visited the house and gave the most dire account of the state of the roads, not a man given to exaggeration his report had to be taken seriously. As I sat listening I could feel my resolve to travel weakening and I decided to up and leave before my will to live deserted me and I would be stranded out the country for the duration.

Gingerly, might best describe my driving to my brothers house in Corbally for the festive dinner. And the frost and icy conditions have persisted curtailing travel and other outdoor activities. While we had a spattering of snow, there was not sufficient for the making of snowmen or decent snowball fights so to fill the gap I have trawled the net for examples of the fine art of snow sculpture.

For the ultimate in reality viewing I recommend you turn off all heating for the duration of this blog and immediately afterwards stoke up the fire and warm yourself after your excursion through our virtual winter wonderland.

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Gerard O'Shea

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The end comes to us all !

HERE COMES 2010...