Undiscovered Words

Undiscovered Words ©

By Michael Casey

Well this will be the first piece in my next  book, Undiscovered Words, my 10^thbook. So are my words Undiscovered Words? If you thought your words would not be read would you bother writing them in the first place? Diaries are kept for many reasons, as an aid to what needs be done, as a memory of what was done. They can also hold your secret thoughts, how you fancy the boy next door, or the girl on the bus. You detail every chance meeting, every hope, so that eventually you’ll have the courage to ask him/her out. Diaries are locked for a reason, so that brothers don’t know you love Billy Dewer. However brothers are little bastards and your secret is out and broadcast all over the neighbourhood. Undiscovered Words are not undiscovered now.

When you decorate you may write your name and the date on the wall, it’s a time capsule, or rather a signature capsule, you may even scrawl a cartoon where the plaster is hard enough to allow it. Words are covered up to be discovered who knows when, can you amuse the future with your thoughts hidden under wallpaper. Banksy the street artist probably started out that way, helping his mum decorate, sneaking in a few drawings while his mum went and made a few sandwiches, then she covered up his “art” with best flock wallpaper. If people find out where Banksy lived as a teenager then the wallpaper would be steamed off and the plaster cut off with a chainsaw then sold for millions. I have an old bedroom door with my daughters’ first attempts at art, art in crayon, maybe in the future I can swop that door for a new house.

When somebody dies a lot of stuff gets thrown out, Undiscovered Words, undiscovered life, it really is a tragedy what gets overlooked and thrown away. As we had lodgers, a couple who died and some who just bailed out as my dad called it, I have experience of sorting out people’s affairs. You’ll find the odd diary and you’ll flick though it as the rubbish pile grows in the black sacks in the middle of the room. Late with keys, 10mins, this not done, that not done, a list of complaints neatly written in an old diary. This is such a sad life, detailed in the deceased’s own hand, he had no friends in that job. He should have given them a round of F**** as my dad would say, then they’d turn up on time, but to write it all down and to catalogue it seems so sad, so American verging on a killing spree.

What people keep and treasure  is most revealing too, I know somebody who had a framed copy of “How I Will Make This Day Count” which is the motto for the AA, so was the person a recovered alcoholic? I should add I know a lot about alcoholics as most of our lodgers were alcoholics, a few of the people I worked with were heavy drinkers too. No, it was me, a 12 pint a year person who had the AA motto framed, I thought it was good motto, I didn’t know for years that it was the AA motto.

What you find on the bookshelf reveals the person beneath, the magazines you find under the mattress reveals even more. A person’s intellect is on show by his bookcase, though you can get false positive results, we are not all Sherlocks. Being widely read with a groaning bookcase may mean two things, either the owner has a great intellect, or he has no friends, just characters in a book for company. Which reminds me, my niece just got a First in English at York, and funding for her Masters at Birmingham.

Old letters are found in shoeboxes, sometimes nibbled by mice or even with mice droppings for company, that’s why biscuit tins are better for storage. These are invariably thrown out by loved ones who are clearing up after the dead. If only these letters were saved there would be so much wisdom from beyond the grave. I was rooting for a cable and found a 40 year old letter from my brother, it was so quiet without me they were holding the SALT talks at home, and yes they’d send me a quid pocket money for our Romsley field trip, after an all-night sitting of the cabinet. All the memories came flooding back from 1972.

Some words should not be discovered, they should be burnt, they should never see the light of day, you can pick your own politicians or comedians. Some stuff is just plain rubbish not worth the pen and ink for all the stink it creates. What of my words? Will anybody cherish them, will my daughters read them when I’m gone? I’m reminded of my Uncle Joe’s funeral, my last uncle. I had never realised how great a man he was. His son in law said, Joe didn’t say much but what he said was worth listening to.

So really my Uncle Joe is the gold standard, make your words count, make your words have value. When your words are discovered, in print, on audio or face to face, let them have weight. Empty Vessels do make the most sound, but it’s the quiet word that has the most influence and power.