If life were fair, Dan Quayle would be making a living asking ‘Do you want fries with that?’
John Cleese

Few people remember Dan Quayle today. At the age of 41, in 1989, Quayle became the third-youngest vice president in U.S. history after Richard Nixon and John C. Breckinridge, a rank that was beaten by 40-year-old JD Vance this year, in 2025. Hey, there are some connections to the present time.

John Cleese was a guest of Brendan O’Connor’s Saturday radio show yesterday which is well worth listening back to. John talked to Brendan about Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, the power of laughter, and his reflections on what happens after death. His favourite work is The Life of Brian, says John.

He talked about the power and the effect of humour and laughter: Laughter is a force for democracy. It’s almost impossible to maintain any kind of distance or any sense of social hierarchy when you’re just howling with laughter.

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Pádraig has maintained his sense of humour. He smiles about the same things, he winds us up in the same way, and he enjoys the same fun things he enjoyed prior to his accident.

He is also very generous and doesn’t get annoyed too much about “dad jokes”, even German ones – although he told me to try and keep them to a minimum.

He has been working hard to find his voice to allow him to get involved more easily in the banter and chat that he has always enjoyed so much.

There have been signs over the past years that this is happening. A good indication is that he is getting much better in controlling his breath.

Not yet producing voice or speech reliably but playing the Feadóg – with a little help from his friends.

He is also getting better controlling other parts of his body and while his playing the Bodhrán is not perfect, it’s a great start.

The increased control of his hands and arms is not just useful for entertainment but also for more essential things, like eating and drinking.

Writing people off. Saying we can’t do anymore for you. Telling them it would have been better had they died. Suggesting that they could have increased the quality of life of others by donating their organs, instead of struggling with their intolerable life. This is not just wrong. It’s utterly stupid. Nonetheless, utterly real. Word by word.

Which brings another of John Cleese’s thoughts to mind –

I think the problem with people like this is that they are so stupid that they have no idea how stupid they are.

Howl with laughter.

There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done – Liebe ist alles.
(The Beatles and Rosenstolz)

I discovered that you can not just look for your favourite singers and bands on Spotify. You can also listen to, let’s say “Bob Dylan Radio” or “Jim Croce Radio” or “Chappell Roan Radio” – which is not that singer’s radio station but a playlist that Spotify puts together for you with that singer’s music and the music of singers like the one you wanted to listen to.

Yesterday morning, I listened to “Rosenstolz Radio”, Rosenstolz being one of Pádraig’s favourite bands when he was in Berlin for his transition year. They were a German pop duo from Berlin, with singer AnNa R. and musician Peter Plate.

One of their hits was, “Liebe ist alles”, “Love is all”. Which made me think of “All you need is love”. It is, of course, a very different song with different lyrics, but both have the same message. One we all know but sometimes forget.

This is our alternative to the deceit, to the lying, to the taking advantage of others for your own good, to the just looking after number one, to the turning your head away from injustice and misery, to the complicity, and to the pretending you didn’t see.

Germans last week celebrated “St. Martin” of Tours, the Roman soldier from the 4th century, later a bishop in France, who cut his cloak in half to share it with a freezing beggar, and later dreamed of Jesus wearing the half-cloak.

Germans being Germans, they remember St Martin in style, superbly organised, in cities, towns, and villages all over Germany. I went to join this year’s procession in a small town with our grandson. Re-living my own childhood. Kids and their parents got together in the evening with their candle-lit lanterns, walked through the streets singing songs in which they remembered the good deed of St Martin. They stopped to enact the “cutting of the cloak”, and walked back to a bonfire in the school yard where there were snacks and hot drinks for everybody.

The St Martin story lives on. Pádraig’s family, friends, neighbours and even people we have never met, people around the world, have shared what they can with him. There is a whole community looking out for him. People who say that it makes them happy that they can help him.

Without this community, we would not be where we are today. I would have despaired a long time ago in the face of empty promises, a complete lack of empathy or sense of responsibility, and even direct personal attacks. All that negativity did never overwhelm us or shut us up, because of the incredible sense of support from a community that is there when we so desperately need it.

St Martin is alive and he keeps sharing. His cloak, against the bitter cold of the winter. His generosity , against the ignorance and the greed of the heartless.

All you need is love.

Liebe ist alles.

Thank you all. We know that we are not alone.

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.
Martin Luther King Jr.

The song, Which Side Are You On, made famous by the immortal Pete Seeger was written by the wife of a union worker in 1931, after thugs broke into her home and terrorised her and her children. Her name was Florence Reece, and she wrote the lyrics on the back of a calendar after the thugs left.

We are told that every story has two sides. That it is “on the one hand” this but “on the other hand” that. And that “this” and “that” both have their justification. They are both valid. That it is all a matter of perspective.

I guess it really is. Both sides have their justification.

Though you have to make up your mind about which of these justifications work for you. Sitting on the fence is not an option.

Think Black and Tans. Think Vietnam. Think Germany in the 1930s and 40s. Think Sudan, Palestine, Israel, Russia, or Ukraine. Think how we treat the most vulnerable in our society. Think what some people get away with. Think broken promises. Think looking to the other side. Think “I didn’t know”.

Now, I believe that there is a “right” and that there is a “wrong”.

I believe that right and wrong can be determined by rational consistency. That a moral law must apply equally to all people. That morality is absolute. That if an action violates the categorical imperative, it is always wrong, regardless of culture, feelings, or situation.

I believe that there is only one correct moral answer. Like Kant, the German philosopher posited.

Because reason is universal, the conclusions of moral reasoning is also universal.

Denying people the right to a meaningful life, no matter their abilities, is wrong. Taking over land promised to the An Saol Foundation for Teach An Saol and building their own building using plans prepared pro bono by half a dozen of Ireland’s biggest companies for Teach An Saol, including the planning permission, is wrong. Declaring that young people with disabilities should not be placed in nursing homes and then shipping a 19-year-old into one, is wrong. Declaring that people with disabilities and their families should have access to respite care, and independent living, and then shifting aside Teach An Saol, offering the right support, is wrong. Not keeping promises, is wrong. Not taking responsibility, is wrong. Blaming others, is wrong. Allowing this to happen, is wrong.

The categorical imperative means that some actions are objectively right or wrong,
and their rightness comes from rational universality, not from authority or outcomes.

Because, in the end, we will remember the silence of our friends.

The silence of those who say that there are always two sides to consider. That we have to be balanced.

It is time to shout out what is right and what is wrong. We have to declare which side we are on.

PS 1:

Today, Germany remembers the Reichspogromnacht, also known as Kristallnacht — the Night of Broken Glass — which took place tonight in 1938 across Nazi Germany and Austria.

PS 2:

Today is also the anniversary of the “Mauerfall”, the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989.

“This place has been a meeting place for centuries, now Manchán’s spirit will be here.” David Clarke, the landowner.

Big crowds turn up at funerals. The month’s mind is something much more intimate. Something for the closest family.

In this case, the family was huge.

More than 2,000 people turned up for Manchán’s month’s mind. On a wet, windy, sunny day full of hail stones and surprises: an all-in-all magical day in County Westmeath on top of a hill, called the Navel of Ireland. There was a druid from Kerry, a Cree First Nation Schumann from Canada, a dozen of Ireland’s best musicians, a few of Pádraig’s friends (we had had no idea we’d meet them there), dozens of people providing shelter, cover, wheelchair pulling and pushing support through the fields and up to the top of the hill – and thousands of the best, friendliest, warmest, and kindest people, all brought together by Manchán.

It’s impossible to catch what happened there yesterday in words or in pictures.

The people were incredible and out of the world we have become accustomed to.

The gathering gave me hope. There is peace and love. Beir bua agus beannacht.

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Pádraig was not just turning heads. He turned his own head. And he is getting brilliant at it. With a little help from his friends.

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I tried to keep up with Pádraig and finished last week’s Dublin Marathon. Also with a little help and encouragement from my friends. It was an effort that proved to me that the impossible is possible if you keep at it and don’t give up. Even if it might feel like the most sensible option along the way. In the end, everybody crossing the line is a winner. Because we are all immensely privileged to be able to do this. Through wind and rain. Against the odds.

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What kept me going was the thought of Pádraig who keeps trying and keeps winning.

What he is managing to do is nothing short of sensational.

Alaska might be the last frontier.

But Pádraig has gone far beyond it.

As Eddie Vedder sang in “Rise”, Such is the way of the world, you can never know / Just where to put all your faith, and how will it grow.

We felt it yesterday on Uisneach. An ancient feeling and a connection with the earth and all and everybody around us. There is a strength of the good, of love, that will keep us going forever. There are no odds. There is no doubt.

When Liam Ó Maonlaí sang We can see clearly now the rain is gone yesterday – the clouds magically disappeared, the rain stopped, and there was nothing but blue sky.

Magic? The power of Manchán? Of us!

Every oak tree started out as a couple of nuts who stood their ground.
Henry David Thoreau

Hömma: Mucke, Pilsken, Pott, Bude. Hier wird nich lang gefackelt. Kein Gelaber, mach einfach.“

This is the language I grew up with. Ruhrpott Deutsch.

In the Ruhr region, people don’t talk fancy — but they talk honestly. Honest, direct, down-to-earth, no beating around the bush. Warm and full of solidarity — people speak “at eye level.” Humorous and self-ironic, often with a wink. Uncomplicated and practical — what must be done, must be done.

It is said that your identify forms during your adolescence, between 12 and 18 years, and you build your autonomy and develop your purpose during young adulthood, between 18 and 25 years of age.

The “Who am I?” phase.

The prefrontal cortex, responsible for planning, judgment, and impulse control, continues developing until you are about 25 years old.

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I have lived in Ireland longer than I ever lived in Germany, and more years than our children’s age. Yet, our children speak better English, and certainly better Irish, than I do. Nobody ever doubts their “irishness”, whereas a taxi driver asked me after just a few minutes in his car whether I was from the Netherlands and a Minister once stated that she always refers to me as “The German”.

What is the difference between The Irish and The German?

Is it that an English speaker in Ireland would say: “I’ll tell you the truth — but I’ll make sure you feel good hearing it.”, whereas someone from the Ruhr region would say: “I’ll tell you the truth — because you deserve nothing less.”

Both come from a community-centred culture, but they express respect in very different ways. In Ireland it’s expressed through kindness and tact. In the Ruhrpott through honesty and straightforwardness.

Language is, of course, a vehicle to express yourself, your culture and approach. Different languages are more than just different words.

So, am I German or am I Irish? – If the recent elections were an indicator, the answer would be straight forward.

While everybody in the family did, I couldn’t vote for the two candidates running for the Irish presidency.

In the past, I tried to fill in an application form to acquire Irish citizenship. However, even as someone well familiar with bureaucracy (!) and forms (!), this form was too much for me and I had to surrender, at least temporarily.

I will come back to it. I won’t give up.

I have learned that learning English and becoming fluent is not enough to speak the language as the “natives” do in Ireland. It’s not just about the words, it’s about the way you say it. The “German” in me, while fading, has not disappeared.

In my mind, I am both. German and Irish. I would like to see that reflected in my words, in my citizenship, and in the way people perceive me.

Every oak tree started out as a couple of nuts who stood their ground! I will go for it! Hau rein!

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked.
Allen Ginsberg (Howl, 1956)

An incredible coffee morning took place yesterday at our neighbour’s house, for both Pádraig and the Hospice Africa Uganda Miriam Fund, set up to support the work of Nobel Peace Prize nominee Dr Anne Merriman, who passed away in May 2025 in Uganda at the age 90. A relative of our neighbours, Anne had setup a hospice in Kampala and trained students from 37 African countries in palliative care. On her 90th birthday, just one week prior to her passing, she had received tributes from President Michael D Higgins and Taoiseach Micheál Martin.

There are times when you feel small and humble in the face of love, generosity, compassion, resilience, and pure kindness. Today was one of these days.

It was a badly-needed contrast and lift, inspirational, motivating, and inspiring, in the face of days that seem so desperate and hopeless.

It would be easy to say “what can a coffee-morning change”? – I can tell you: the tea, the coffee, the absolutely magnificent cakes, and, above all, the company and support of people who are there when you most need them, is uplifting beyond comparison.

A humongous THANK YOU to our neighbours for organising a fantastic and energising morning for us all, for those supporting people who have a right to live their lives although they have been written off by the health system. Ireland and Africa are world’s apart. But they are connected through the humanity of those who care.

I have been thinking about some lines attributed to Allen Ginsberg.

Concentrate on what you want to say to yourself and your friends. Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness. You say what you want to say when you don’t care who’s listening.

Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It’s that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that’s what the poet does.

Do I (lately) think too much about who is listening?

Is it time to make the private world public?

Is it time to Howl?

Saturday, 17 October 2025 – 11:00-13:00
85 Lindsay Road

Driving down the 101. California here we come. Right back where we started from.
On the stereo. Listen as we go. Nothing’s gonna stop me now.
California (Phantom Planet)

LAX, Santa Monica, Carmel and Monterey, Big Sur, San Francisco, Napa, Yosemite, and back home. Amazing what you can do in a week. It is a special anniversary and we decided to mark it.

What I had not anticipated was Pádraig’s presence. He had been here before us and he was with us travelling up the 101, California 1, into Yosemite. Full of his incredible youthful energy, carefree, joyful, can-do, attitude.

I am signalling you through the flames.

The North Pole is not where it used to be.

Manifest Destiny is no longer manifest.

Civilization self-destructs.

Have wide-angle vision, each look a world glance. Espress the vast clarity of the outside world, the sun that sees us all, the moon that strews its shadow on us, quire garden ponds, willows, where the hidden thrush sings, dusk fallen along the river run, and the great spaces that open out upon the sea … high tide and the herons call … And the people, the people, yes, all around the earth, speaking Babel tongues. Give voice to them all.

Make it new news.

Write beyond time.

Reinvent the idea of truth. 

Reinvent the idea of beauty.

Question everything and everyone, including Socrates, who questioned everything.

Be subversive, constantly questioning reality and the status quo.

Read between the lines and write between the lines.

Avoid the provincial, go for the universal.

Don’t be so open-minded that your brains fall out.

Sweep away the cobwebs.

Resist much, obey less.

Come out of your closet. It’s dark in there.

This is from a book by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Poetry as Insurgent Art. Amazingly, it was first published in 1975, yet it reads as if it was contemporary.

Ferlinghetti co-founded City Lights Bookstore in 1953 in San Francisco’s North Beach, a central meeting point for the Beat Generation, including Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. A few years later, he famously published Allen Ginsberg’s Howl (1956) and was arrested, tried for obscenity for publishing Howl, and acquitted, marking a major victory for free speech and artistic expression in America.

Next week will not be back to normal. ‚California‘ here we come. On our own 101. Those 1,000 miles just got us going. Nothing’s gonna stop me now.

In the Irish language, there are 99 words for rain and one for sun.
Manchán Magan

Manchán was a writer and documentary maker, one of the best known promoters of the Irish language. Last week, he died at the age of 55. Pádraig and Manchán knew each other and staid in touch. Manchán wrote to him following Pádraig’s accident and Pádraig wrote to Manchán when he heard about his illness. His recent programmes are on the RTÉ Player and are one of the most beautiful documentaries about Ireland and the Irish culture you could watch.

Such an amazing way to see the world. To approach life.

Rather than trying to convince the in-convincible, Manchán went his way and invited us to come along. Whether we went was up to us.

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Sunday Independent, 28 September 2025

In her article in last Sunday’s Sunday Independent, Maeve Sheehan tried to capture the conundrum we’re finding ourselves in. The politicians are supporting what we’re proposing. The civil servants have a mind of their own. An unelected body directing the elected.

There are political declarations, plenty of news coverage over the whole week on Ireland’s official broadcaster RTÉ by Ailbhe Conneely, Social Affairs and Religion Correspondent, but a deafening silence on Teach An Saol. Yet —

Minister for Children and Disability Norma Foley said she is determined to work with the HSE to plan residential services for people with disabilities who are being cared for at home by ageing parents. (RTÉ, 01 Oct 2025)

The Media, the fourth pillar in a democratic system, holds government and powerful figures accountable by investigating wrongdoing, ensuring transparency, and fostering public discourse. Yet, they too often seem to function as just another branch of Government.

Promoting a Minister’s statement saying that she is planning residential services for people with disabilities who are being cared for at home by ageing parents, without pointing out that she is, at the same time, allowing the HSE to shoot down a readily available, fully designed solution with planning permission and all, is, at a minimum, bad research and unbalanced, and looks to me like a shameful way of unwarranted Government support.

We don’t need more headlines blindly promoting Government policies. We need someone to hold them to account.

There comes a time when you wonder if it makes sense to keep knocking your head against a wall or if it has become an act of insanity, as you keep doing the same thing over and over again and expect different results (Einstein).

There comes a time when Carlos Wallace’ advice starts making sense:

You don’t fail by walking away; you fail by staying somewhere you’ve outgrown.

Perhaps it’s time to explore the 99 varieties of rain. Not in the “big smoke” but away in places where you can connect with different values.

Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth. (Henry David Thoreau, quoted in Into the Wild)

The secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new.
Socrates

It’s that simple.

We spend much time getting annoyed and frustrated, sometimes very sad, trying to change the old. Arguing with systems. Trying to change rules. Hoping that something, somewhere, will finally shift. And we get exhausted.

What if, instead, we left all this behind and put our energy into building the new? Into creating something that wasn’t there before. Into shaping a different way of living, caring, and being together.

Seeing it in small things first. In a silent smile breaking through a long silence. A family finding hope. A moment that says: there is still more here.

Change doesn’t have to be dramatic. It doesn’t need to shout. Sometimes it is just a small step — forward, sideways, or even back — but it opens up a space that wasn’t there before.

Trying to change the old has its place, but it rarely gives life. Building the new does. And that is where our energy, however little of it we may have, is best spent.

Sometimes, walking away would be easier. Anybody can do easy. We will stay.

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God has no other hands than ours.

Last night we listened to a very unusual sermon. A catholic priest talking about a protestant theologian whose believe it was that we are “God’s hands” in alleviating pain, fighting oppression, and creating healing structures. That because God does not magically intervene, humans are called to resist suffering where it is caused by injustice. That we cannot say that we didn’t know. That it was of no concern to us. That we did not understand. That we could not change anything anyway.

In the face of suffering you cannot sit on the fence. You have to take sides. And you have to act. Otherwise, you become complicit.

The German theologian Dorothee Sölle (1929-2003) believed that confronting suffering leads to a deeper spirituality. That prayer and union with God empower us to act against suffering, not to escape from it.

In her book “Suffering”, or “Leiden“, she says that suffering should not lead to passivity or silent endurance and makes a case against resignation. She says suffering becomes bearable when it is shared. For her, suffering should not be glorified but transformed into action. Suffering should “become protest”. In other words, the good fight is to turn pain into resistance and hope.

For Sölle, love is an act of resistance — because to love in the face of suffering is already part of the struggle against it.

Not in a long, long time have I heard a call to action against suffering caused by injustice so convincingly and clearly.

Stay with us. Don’t walk away.

Join us.