Today would have been my Dad’s 87th birthday.
This photograph of him hangs on the wall next to my desk at home, and I look at it often and remember him with great fondness and love.
He wasn’t a religious man, only going to church for weddings and the like, though he always supported my Mom in her church activities.
As a boy, I remember him as always being at work. Back then, it was quite common for people to work on Saturdays too, and as a printer, he was always busy.
My Mom was definitely his Honzon. If ever she went away for the day, she would leave him a packed lunch, an apple cut into quarters and maybe a cheese sandwich, just to make sure he ate something. He was a bit lost whenever she wasn’t around.
His one big love in life, apart from his family, was printing. Our house was always full of books and paper and print samples, and if he was ever given a book as a present, he was far more interested in who had printed it than what it was about.
In later years, he had a passion for free pistol shooting, he kept meticulous sets of figures of his scores, and used to compile the tables of scores for the club to which he belonged. He was very angry when the Government brought in stricter gun laws, and he was unable to keep his much cherished guns. He always felt that they were punishing the innocent, for the sins of the guilty.
Sadly he spent the last couple of years of his life in the World of Tranquillity. He had a heart condition that meant he didn’t have the life-energy to get out and do very much. He still read quite a lot and watched sport on TV, but he slept a lot more.
You were a great Dad, and, in your own quiet way, a great man. You were Wise, Courageous and Compassionate in so many ways, though maybe I didn’t always appreciate it at the time. I pray for you every morning and evening during Gongyo, and although I know you are back here with us somewhere, I miss you a great deal.
Happy Birthday Dad.
Nam Myoho Renge Kyo
Sorting out our life can be a bit like solving a Rubik’s cube, each aspect is like one of the faces, separate but all connected. We work to get one face, let’s say Blue sorted out. On it’s own that task is pretty easy and we complete it quite quickly. So we move on to to the Red face, again it’s pretty easy, in isolation, so we get it sorted and we feel a satisfaction in that. But then we turn the cube back to the Blue side, and it’s all messed up again, because it is connected to the Red side.
After her own accident left her unable to walk, Sophie Morgan wants to know why traffic collisions are the single biggest killer of young people – and how that can be stopped. With exclusive access and insight into a number of high profile cases from the moment of the crash through to resolution in the courts, she meets people who, like her, have seen their lives changed forever in a single instant – whether they were injured or they were driving the car.
Do you ever find yourself getting into a state over a situation that is mainly in your own head? If your world is not anchored by your faith and is dependant on factors outside your control, your imagination can run riot. Our Fundamental Darkness, or My Evil Friend, is a devious character and will use everything to get it’s way. Your imagination is one of it’s most powerful weapons.
You all know the saga about the round of redundancies at my place of work. It’s been a very trying time for all concerned. It’s not the easiest economic climate to find work at the moment, particularly when you are a gentleman of a certain age, as I am.
Yesterday was pretty manic. Up at 7:00, after staying up till after 2:00 watching Comic Relief, and well done to those guys, over £75m raised so far. Then driving to Bristol in rain that even Noah would have commented upon. Spray, floods, hold-ups for broken down vehicles, a real relief when I pulled up on Charlotte and Rob’s driveway.
March the thirteenth always stirs up the saddest of memories for me and my family. It is exactly twenty one years ago today, that I lost the second most important lady in my life, my paternal grandmother. Just to make it even worse, if that were at all possible, ironically, March the thirteenth 1992 was a Friday, probably the worst Friday the thirteenth ever.
Sadly, my aunt passed away yesterday. I say sadly, but actually that is only for those of us who remain. For her it is but another phase of the Wheel of Life.
Reading reports of the
My trip up to Bristol today was long overdue. Since early September there has been one less reason to go, and a whole bunch of reasons why I didn’t, but today was set in stone and even the much promised ice and snow wasn’t going to stop me from making the trip.
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