Samuel

You must have heard about the killing of Samuel Paty on Friday in the northern suburbs of Paris, France. Aged 47 he was a teacher of history, geography and personal and social education. He was beheaded by a wicked  eighteen year old nutcase who probably saw himself as an Islamic soldier fighting the good fight on behalf of his religion.

It seems that Monsieur Paty had very legitimately devoted some teaching time to considering cartoon depictions of Mohammad and Allah. They were creatively  slid into a citizenship module for pupils to consider and debate.

An ignorant Muslim parent, whose daughter was not even present when this lesson happened, launched a social media campaign against Monsieur Paty - even naming him and the school's location. The killer must have encountered this toxic stuff and headed to Conflans-Sainte-Honorine to mete out what he misguidedly saw as revenge.

In my way of looking at things, Samuel Paty represented  light, freedom and truth but his cruel killer belonged to darkness, ignorance and misunderstanding. 

You might quietly be thinking that Samuel Paty was partly the architect of his own death. Perhaps he should not have brought attention to the cartoons. Perhaps he should have avoided any reference to Islamic fundamentalism and the arrogant bigotry that clings to it like an infected rash. But keeping quiet and saying nothing is surely a form of submission. - giving in to the forces of darkness. That cannot be right in free societies.

In memory of Samuel Paty with love. Liberté, égalité, fraternité! May he rest in peace and may his legacy be one of courage, togetherness and illumination. 

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Covid: The Rise Of The Karen

 

I had another Covid based run in yesterday morning.

This time with a group of seven female joggers

It was unpleasant and upsetting

And this time I was on the receiving end of their righteous indignation 

I was walking on the track or a former railway line with Mary and Dorothy when I heard them far in the distance . A set of joggers in close formation all shouting and laughing. 

Their ages ranged from 30 s to 60 s

As they neared me I put Dorothy back on the lead and moved to one side to let them pass which they did .

But then they stopped filling the track as they gasped and talked and laughed all within inches of each other . 

I called out a sharp “ Excuse me !” 

and they moved to one side to let me pass but not before one of the women, buoyed up by numbers called out in a stage whisper 

“Some People Are miserable,”

“ I’m not miserable but angry” I told them, whirling around 

“You block the trail, are not social distancing , are spluttering and shouting all over the place and putting yourselves and me at risk of Covid” I said and added

I’ve just finished a twelve hour shift as a nurse with Covid patients so I know what I am talking about!”

(Well it was just one Covid patient but I thought it unwise to be pedantic)

The women threw back several comments but I only heard one naming one of their party a “ worker in healthcare”

“ Well she should know better” I told them suddenly realising I was on a hiding to nowhere

I started to move on

As I did so one of the women shouted “ We look after ourselves , we arnt obese Like you! ,”

I stopped  and turned around

Shocked and upset at the personalisation and stupidity of the insult 

For once I was lost for words and stood there open mouthed

“Really ? ......

Really ?” I asked shaking my head 

Then I walked on 

But the insult stung as it was meant to

and it was made worse because these women were middle class types , the ones that did care for their own bodies and ate healthily after a few kilometres run.

And I was a lone, invisible man who had dared to challenge them

from Going Gently https://ift.tt/2T14acU

evangelize

 i miss church

in person

hugging 

every soul

looking 

for jesus

and a mornin

full of praise

you made it

another day

i dream

of sunday lunch

with the neighbors

at Red Lobster

cheddar biscuits

and more evangelizing

before that 

became a bad word

we can't discuss

without starting wars

these days

it seems

i should get

off the soapbox

before I start one

lively debate

and banter

an art form

long gone

I'm afraid

from R's rue https://ift.tt/3j5vm4P

dirty hands, clean heart

 falling for you

sixty and shining

leaves caressing

my shorn locks

and for awhile

I'm awash

in the purity

of God 

and His creation

The dew

cleanses

the dirt of sin

and I'm grateful

because the reminder

of grace

is knocking

at the door 

of my heart

you must 

be near

dear Lord

because 

I'm surrendering

The key

from R's rue https://ift.tt/31ggkmy

Once

As regular visitors to this humble Yorkshire blog will recall, I am going to be a grandfather for the first time very early in the new year. I have already bought a couple of granddad outfits including a beige cardigan with leather elbow pads, braces, a flat cap, brogues and gold-rimmed  John Lennon glasses. I am also growing a paintbrush moustache which I plan to dye silvery white.

There are lots of things one needs to do before a new arrival in the family. Another thing I have done is to write a story for the baby. Let me share it with you:-

⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳⺳

Once upon a time there was a lovely world. It looked rather like our world but it was different in lots of ways.

In that lovely world nobody needed to wear horrid face masks because the air was not filled with the scent of death. In supermarkets, people would mingle happily, gaily filling their trolleys with all manner of nice things to eat - pineapples, sausages, cans of soup, chocolate ice cream and kale. There was no tension amongst customers and no big stickers on the floor reminding shoppers to keep two metres apart.

Out in the streets, the jolly townsfolk would hug, kiss or shake hands when they met and you knew when people were smiling because as I said before - nobody wore masks.

In the lovely world of which I speak, there were buildings called theatres where people would go to watch plays enacted on stages by actors and actresses. The actors were men and the actresses were women. There were also other nice buildings called cinemas where people went to sit quietly in darkness watching films shown on big screens. They ate popcorn in silence, not wishing to spoil the enjoyment of other cinemagoers.

People did not have to wash their hands all the time - nor did they have to see graphs about infection and death on their TV screens every night. Instead, there were stories about rescuing cats from trees and men and women reaching the ripe old age of a hundred. They smiled into the camera before blowing out candles on their big iced cakes. They looked so happy.

In that lovely, lovely world, everybody had a job and a home to live in. There was no starvation, no murder and no suicide. Leaders were universally respected and countries helped each other out as much as they could. Rich people did not evade tax. The seas were filled with cod fish and the air was graced with all manner of birds. Elvis Presley still lived. In the jungles of South America, members of indigenous tribes trod silently along ancient forest pathways, never seen by outsiders and like the rest  of humanity, they were so happy to live upon this Earth that their hearts might have burst with joy.

Yes. That is how it was. Once upon a time before...

The End

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