You know Ennio?

You know Ennio?

For some reason I can’t get this man out of my head today.

ennio-morricone-autograph

When musicians talk about the great music composers they often mention Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, and the other guy. I am not a musician. I can just about play the guitar, badly. But I think most real musicians will agree that Ennio Morricone could give them a run for their money. A fist-full of money!

As a young cowboy I didn’t stop to think where the background music originated. I only knew it suited us both, me and Clint. At primary school (all boys), we would whistle the theme to ‘The good, the bad, and the ugly,’ as the headmaster’s footsteps could be heard approaching the classroom.

Morricone has composed the music for lots of movies. Including a personal favourite, from 1986, The Mission. It starred Robert DeNiro, Jeremy Irons, and a young Liam Neeson.

I was fifteen when I saw it in the local cinema. I went alone, which was good because I found the tears welling in my eyes near the end. I won’t spoil it if you’ve never seen it. A great movie which told a true story from all sides, the good, the bad and the ugly.

In fact, it doesn’t take a proper musician to appreciate Gabriel’s Oboe. Any earthly creature with an ear could feel the emotion in the notes (they don’t make truckers like they used to).

Thank you for reading

Frankie.

 

Advertisements

Think again.

handpainted-handprints-kids-5862229

In the WordPress daily prompt today we are asked to “Think again” about a false assumption we had made and how we were proven wrong.

Somebody once told me “Frankie, you think way too much .” Hands up, I do, but I enjoy it. The great thing about truck driving is that one has copious amounts of thinking time. It’s like a think-fest up there in the cab.

I lump daydreaming and thinking in together. One minute I could be thinking about Saint Francis and the next I could be thinking about some lady’s bum in tight jeans, a mile back. That’s the way the hole, I mean whole, day goes by with me. I am sure there are lots like me and then…sometimes…I wonder if thinkers are dying out.

I have noticed something of an epidemic spreading across the internet. There seems to be a nasty kind of vibe towards people who believe in God/Allah/Christ/Muhammad/ or other faiths. I’m not talking about the recent scandals in churches. I am talking about belief.

What is wrong with people on this planet? As if we don’t have enough trouble convincing the world leaders to shake hands!! I reckon if Christ returned now he would be promptly crucified all over again.

Who was it said “It is the mark of an educated mind to entertain a thought without accepting it.” ? That’s right, Aristotle. And a damn good truck driver he was too.

If faith in God keeps somebody happy, keeps them from going off the rails, then what gives anybody the right to say it is wrong?

Do you feel the desire to remove a soother from the mouth of a child just to hear it cry? A child that doesn’t belong to you? No.

If you consider faith in God to be a handicap do you walk along the street making fun of mentally and physically handicapped people? No. Because you are an adult. A responsible adult.

A thought just occurred to me. Perhaps there is a common ground; Saint Francis of Assisi is the patron saint of animals and the environment. According to those who knew him, he tamed wolves, spoke to birds, the plants, the sun, the moon, the lot.

Like Doctor Doolittle in a long hoody. He loved animals and nature. At the same time he had his own faith/beliefs.

“I think” he got it right because he was the first person in recorded history to receive the stigmata. He bothered nobody. He had once been filthy rich and gave it all up for the simple life serving the poor. He loved his animals, his townsfolk, and his God.

There are lots of things I don’t believe; the news channels, the discovery channels, the moon landings, the 9/11 story, the ‘fracking is safe’ story, the ‘no cure for cancer’ story etc. But there is one thing which I hope never to trash, and that is a person’s core faith. In fact even though I am a Christian I have the deepest admiration in the way people of the Muslim faith practice their rituals on a daily basis. My hat goes off to them for the way they unashamedly pray aloud five times per day!!  God is lucky to hear from me once a week!

I enjoy reading blogs by Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Jews, Wicka etc., I admire those bloggers who throw little nuggets of belief into a post. They are so colourful. Just when I think I know it all they teach me something else about their beliefs. They are colourful people, not dull.

We have to grow up, collectively. Religions create colourful cultures in the various countries. Who wants to visit a country that no longer has it’s own culture? That’s where we’re heading…to a grey world. One dull shade of it.

Our religious and atheist figureheads have all died. Lets concentrate on stopping any more killing. Like the daily prompt says…Think again.

Thank you for reading

Frankie.

In response to http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/think-again/

 

 

 

Consider this please.

I can almost predict the future.

Remember Joseph Kony? Sudan, The “world’s” most wanted. The social media and printed tee-shirts. All the media hype until somebody said he’s been dead ten years. Ahem…oops. “Lets change the news.”

A few weeks ago there was a little snippet on the news here in Ireland about two hundred and forty something girls kidnapped in Nigeria. It was one of those news reel videos which is sent to all corners of the globe.

When I saw it I said to my wife “There is something extremely dodgy about that.” Even the video looked staged.

Fast forward to last Monday evening. Our news had a new video. An abandoned village with about thirty women carrying really expensive signs and flags, dance/marching with smiling faces. No spectators except for the camera man. And a narrator saying they are on their way to the government buildings. It was like they were acting for the camera. I could go on. I looked for the clip online but can’t find it. It has gotten so big now, if actors were needed before, they aren’t anymore.

Yesterday morning one of the national radio stations here mentioned a protest would be held outside the Nigerian embassy here in Dublin. Tee shirts and posters would be provided.

Next thing “Toot-toot-toot…” The heroes are going in. I had predicted that also to my wife weeks ago. The social media and telly is the Cinema. Get the popcorn  in because this stuff is pure Hollywood script. The kidnapper released a video to say “God told me to sell your girls.”

Oh please. Give me a break.

Nigeria “just happens” to be hosting a world economic forum this week. And the President Goodluck Johnathan, welcomes the help. By the way he hasn’t sent any of his own men after the kidnappers who must have been driving at least five bus loads of screaming girls through the jungle!!! Not to mention the trucks full of his own men.

Since when was such a massive media campaign launched about kidnappings which happen all the time in poorer countries? Isn’t it easier to go into yet another country when the “world” is cheering you on?

Don’t jump straight back with comments. Please just think about it. That’s all I ask. I could be completely wrong. My mind is working on the scenarios even as I type this. Neither you nor I has a clue what’s going on, but we can think about it.

Here have a look at one of the parents. Oops I mean, have a listen to him talking on the phone.

Thank you for reading

Frankie.

 

Slow learner.

Slow learner.

images

“Pride always comes before a fall.”

My mother (the one with the dentures) said that.

I’m sure somebody else had coined it before her. But she never gave them credit for it. She made that comment her own and took all the pride for it.

It’s true though, about pride. Her words have been ringing in my ears on so many occasions throughout my life so far. And if my past is anything to go by, I will have plenty of falls in the future.

For instance, if this nonsense turns out to be the most popular post in the history of WordPress and the Likes are in the hundreds, overnight I will develop a swagger like John Wayne. I will forget Mammy’s wisdom until tomorrow’s post which will struggle to reach three Likes. And only then will I remember her words.

In recent years I have been improving my ability to shun pride. I try to stay grounded. I say “try.” But it’s like writing or running or anything really. The more I practice, the easier it gets.

I try to understand what the likes of Saint Francis understood. Even the wild animals wanted to be near him. I think he was the first person to recieve the stigmata. But in his early life he was no saint (as the cliché goes). He once said “I have been all things unholy. If God can work through me, He can work through anyone.”

My wife has warned me not to get too serious in my blog. I know she’s right but I can’t help it sometimes. I don’t want to be the great pretender on my own blog!

The truth is people like Saint Francis facinate me! The way a particle accelerator facinates a molecular scientist. Or outer space facinates an astronomer.

God is almost a dirty word in modern society. I wonder how they achieved that. It seems to be working for them, the new age thinking. I am no threat. The closest I will get to stigmata is perhaps a blister on my palm from holding a beer bottle the wrong way.

To wrap up and in answer to the question posed in today’s Daily Prompt I will steal a few lines from another mother, and take the entire credit like the imposter and hypocrite that I am.

images

Thank you for reading

Frankie.

In response to http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/27/prompt-the-great-pretender/

One man’s miracle…

One man’s miracle…

Some days when everything works against me it makes me smile. It sounds crazy I know.  It’s a recent alteration to the way I see the world.

One Friday afternoon, a  few years ago, I arrived back at the warehouse a bit later than usual. On the final leg of my journey I got stuck behind a chain of slow moving traffic. I cursed the farm tractor or whatever was causing the tailback but it didn’t improve things. I just had to ride it out like everybody else.

When eventually, I did get back to the warehouse my co-workers were long gone. On Fridays we usually knock off at 3pm, give or take  a few minutes. It was now 3:30.

I had to unlock the gates and open the large roller door, switch the lights on etc. More wasted time!

I reversed the truck inside the building, parked up, switched off the lighting, closed the roller door and made my way across the yard to my car. Mine was the only car left in the yard. The other workers were probably tucking into their dinners by now.

Just as I reached the car, a question occurred to me. Did I switch on the electric fork truck battery charger? It was my job to ensure the thing was charged up and ready for work on Monday morning.

So I went back. Opened the large roller door, lights on, checked on the fork truck and realised Yes I had put it on the charger after all. I can be forgetful at times but this was something I did only five minutes previous. Anyhow, Que Sera Sera. I lowered the roller door and made my way back to my car.

Like the previous time, just as I was about to get in the car, a little inner voice goes “Lights? Did you turn off the lights?” So I go back, open the roller door, only to discover I had left the lights on. Good thing I listened.

On my third attempt to get into my car, and go home, I heard another little noise. This noise was getting louder and louder, coming towards me. I turned around to see a forty foot Scania pulling into the yard. My fate was sealed. I knew what this meant. I would be very late home today. The driver climbed down and approached  me.

“Alright Mate,” in his English accent. “I have twenty-six pallets for you guys. I know I am late and I’m sorry. Would you be willing to fork them off for me?”

“Sure I will.” I answered. Because I’m a Yes man and that’s what Yes men do.

So, again,  I opened the roller door, switched the lights on, unplugged the fork truck and set to work unloading his truck.

When I was done it was close to 4:30. I started to sign the paperwork for the delivery. I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself until the driver made an odd statement.

“Thanks a lot mate. I’ll be able to catch the last ferry back to England this evening. If you hadn’t been here I would have had to park up until Monday.”

“Yep, it’s your lucky day!” I remarked as I signed my name on umpteen papers.

“The truth is, silly as this sounds, I prayed to God when I realised I would be late. I asked that he would work a small miracle for me. And believe me mate, I never pray. I owe him one for this.” He said.

 

On my drive home I realised something. That for every lucky break a person gets, the chances are that somebody else has to accept being second best. In a strange way, I felt special. My frustrating afternoon helped a miracle to happen for somebody.

One man’s miracle is another man’s cold dinner.

Thank you for reading,

Frankie.

In response to http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/26/prompt-que-sera-sera/

Sacred Heart.

Sacred Heart.

Lanciano1

I will take a break from the silly stories for this evening’s post, if you don’t mind.

You are welcome to leave and read something else for whatever reason. But I have to get this out there, today, for some unknown reason. Maybe it will make sense to somebody.

Some of you will already know about my invisible friend, and how he teaches me things without having to put in an appearance. How he sets things up in order that I learn properly.

Today there have been too many prompts for me to ignore, and they are all begging me to tell this one story. Again, please leave if this story is not for you. I will have something light hearted tomorrow. Thank you.

About two years ago I was at Sunday Mass. I go there most, but not all Sundays. I’m only human. Like most Sundays I would daydream about this and that during the service. And to be totally honest some of my daydreams would shock even the author of Fifty Shades. I have normal daydreams also…sometimes.

On this particular Sunday my invisible friend whispered a question to me. It was so feint I thought I had come up with it myself.

Why do some people treat the wafer (host) at communion time as if it were the real thing? Surely this Body and Blood ritual has been misrepresented somewhere in the past two thousand years.

I pondered it again the very next day, driving in my truck. I wasn’t losing my religion but as usual I was questioning things like crazy. My mind is never on the road. It’s always elsewhere. Trucking is a great job for any budding philosopher. Lots of thinking time. Up here, in the cab, above the hustle and bustle. We see it all, us truckers. I can see Scotland on a clear day!

I listen to political chat shows although you would be forgiven for thinking otherwise.

So this day (the day after the question) the radio host took a break from the usual. He had a guest on who was talking about Padré Pio, a famous stigmatic. Incidentally there are a few alive in the world today. My aunt met one a few years back. He was also a monk.

Anyway, in the course of the conversation somebody mentions an event called The miracle of Lanciano.

In all my forty years I had never heard of this. In fact very few people get to hear about it. It’s one of those things you won’t see on telly. Because it is the polar opposite of the aim of television. I am not saying all telly is bad. But he who pays the piper calls the tune. That’s all I’m saying.

Getting back to the radio. The person told of a priest years ago in a town in Italy. He was saying Mass. At the consecration when he was holding the wafer aloft and saying the same old words, something happened. He started to doubt!

He doubted that the wafer was really the Body of Christ. He doubted that the Wine was really the Blood.

Instantly the wafer started to bleed, real blood. He dropped it onto the altar in shock. Members of the congregation ran to the altar thinking he had hurt himself. What they all witnessed was the wafer turning into a piece of flesh and the wine in the chalice turning to blood.

Samples were tested and found to be the same blood as the Turin shroud.

A scientist was given a sample of the flesh. He was told nothing of its history. He concluded that it was from the left ventricle of a human heart and that the person suffered a traumatic death.

There have been other identical miracles down through the years and in all corners of the globe. Buenos Aires, Poland, China, Japan…

I have included two videos below. But you can go and search the web yourself.

I am not a scientist. I am a trucker. All I know is that the question never entered my mind for all my forty years, until one day, and the very next day I got my answer.

I hope you get all your questions answered. There can be a time delay with the answer. But just like the old internet connections, spiritual connections are improving all the time it seems.

 

If this message has no meaning to you. Don’t even give it a second thought. Pass on by.

I’m still the same blogger.

Thank you for reading,

Frankie.

In response to http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/22/prompt-young/

Here are two samples you won’t find on telly.

There are better quality videos of this scientist on youtube. This is only a snippet.  He was an athiest writing a book about athteism when he realised the truth.