Saucy goblet nothing foul

From June, 2004

My 6 year old nephew Cashel was in town this weekend with his mother. Cashel used to live in Park Slope. While Cashel lived there, he befriended a boy named “Jack”. Jack has taken on mythical qualities to all of us O’Malleys, primarily because of Cashel’s undying love for Jack. They are soul mates. They are six.

They met when they were 4, and now Cashel lives far away – and yet the friendship has flourished. They have long-winded telephone conversations once a week. I said to Cashel, “I bet you guys are gonna be friends when you’re grown-ups.” He gave me this unbelievable look – perplexed, kind of amused, but also very confused … trying to picture the two of them as adults. He couldn’t see it. I said, “And you’ll go visit Jack where he works or something, and you’ll play like you’re Jedi knights all over his office.” Cashel thought this was a supremely hilarious image, and shook with hysterical laughter.

I’m a big hit with the 6 year old set.

I met Jack at one of Cashel’s birthday parties. Jack was dressed as a Jedi knight. The primary bond between Jack and Cashel is Star Wars.

Cashel stated to my parents once, bluntly, “The first time I met Jack, I could see the twinkle of Star Wars in his eyes.”

How one does not laugh when a 5 year old says something like that to you … I simply do not know.

I love Jack. I love Jack because Cashel loves Jack.

When my sister and I drove up to see Cashel this past fall, there was a huge snowstorm in New England. I mentioned it to Cashel: “It was snowing in New York when I left!”

Cashel gasped. And then said, under his breath, “I hope Jack’s okay.”

Bwahaha. I said, “Oh, I’m sure he’s okay.”

For Cashel, it is ALL ABOUT JACK.

This past weekend, Cashel spent with Jack. On Saturday and Sunday (while I was quite ill, by the way – still not better) I kept imagining the rapture going on in Park Slope, the Star Wars orgies, the game-playing … It made me happy to think of.

Monday morning, Siobhan made brunch for us at her apartment. It was me, Cashel’s mom, Cashel and Siobhan. Still sick, I woke up early, got my act together, and traveled through the cool grey morning out to Queens. Siobhan’s neighborhood is quiet, homey, and overwhelmingly green. Flags at half-mast everywhere because of Memorial Day. I kept seeing little kids in band uniforms, and little majorette girls … traipsing off for a parade somewhere. I heard snippets of bagpipe music.

I was so excited to see the Cash-Man. How I miss seeing that little boy all the time.

My mother told me that she and Cashel had taken a walk around the neighborhood on Friday night, it was dark, they had flashlights. Cashel, who is verbose, to say the least, talked the entire time, the chattery mouse-voice coming through the darkness.

At one point he said, a propos of nothing, “Bullies aren’t really bullies. They’re really just cowards.”

Smarty pants! MY heart cracked in two. I knew he was mouthing something that either his mother or his father had said to him, to help him make sense of playground politics.

“Bullies aren’t really bullies, Cash. They’re really just cowards.”

Anything you say to Cash, he is liable to latch onto, make his own, and then say it right back to you. He is a knowledge and philosophy hog.

Siobhan cooked pancakes, bacon, made coffee. Cash has a scruffy short haircut that looks great. It took him a bit to warm up.

“So what did you and Jack do?”

Long silence, as he concentrated on eating a strawberry, eyes averted.

“Cash?”

Chew, chew, chew, eyes roaming the walls.

“Hello? Cash? What did you and Jack do?”

But the truth eventually came out. They saw 3 movies: Samarai Jack, Return of the Jedi – and one other, can’t remember.

“And what else did you guys do?”

The casual off-handed answer? “We played.”

Ah, children. God bless them. They “played”.

So we ate breakfast, we all chatted, it was great fun, I have to hold myself back from attacking Cashel every other second, hugging him, kissing him, etc. It is very difficult. The good thing about a 6 year old, though, is that he will not completely object if you just reach over to him, and pull him on your lap. Such closeness can still be tolerated.

But really – the entire morning was completely enlivened by the Drama of the Refrigerator Magnets. This is what gave our brunch its special and memorable flavor.

Siobhan has those Magnetic Poetry magnets – the “Shakespeare” version. They are spread out all over the side of her fridge. Random snippets of silly verse – One was “I Like My Lady Belch” – stuff like that. Cashel noticed all of the magnets and said, “Heyyy, what’s this?”

Then stood there, in his little jeans and striped shirt, looking up, and reading as many words as he could.

Because it was Shakespeare, you can imagine what Cashel’s little boy voice sounded like.

“Henceforth.”

“Methinks.” (He said it correctly, too – which just cracked me UP – emphasis on the second syllable)

He just thought the whole thing was so funny for some reason, so fascinating. Like all the O’Malleys, he loves language.

I loved his pronunciation of “Melancholy”.

Again, I have a hard time not attacking Cashel every other second, squeezing him so tight he begs for mercy.

So Cashel began messing around with the magnets, putting together random phrases – before he finally composed what amounts to a messy sonnet – which makes absolutely no sense – and which Cashel is probably still laughing about.

Every nonsensical thing he composed gave him such merriment.

He particularly found this phrase HYSTERICAL:

“saucy goblet nothing foul”.

Actually, I think that’s pretty funny, too, and believe the phrase could be used in all kinds of circumstances.

“How are you doing today?”
“Oh, you know. Saucy goblet nothing foul.”

“Goodness, I just stepped on your foot. I beg your pardon.”
“Saucy goblet, nothing foul, no problem.”

Cashel kept saying it, over and over, his voice disintegrating into giggles. “Saucy goblet nothing foul…”

Love his laugh. It’s the best sound in the world. No contest.

But here is Cashel’s masterpiece, which he declaimed, over and over and over again that morning:

“dream & ly said mischance
let winter above light
peasant merry tempt to speak
thus curse could like you
lazy warrant and ed almost
give me manner strike his
poison deceive wherefore ‘st
every fair hither hast to
must”

Now one word: If you do not find that poem to be one of the funniest things you have ever read in your life, Cashel will have no use for you.

To Cashel, his creation was HIGH COMEDY.

Clearly, there are myriad interpretations one could glean from this work. Siobhan came up with a very good dramatic reading of the last line – put a comma or a dash in between “hast to” and “must”. So that, like with Shakespeare, the thought, the intention of the line is in the punctuation. One doesn’t “hast to” do something, one “MUST” do something.

Cashel, though, would read the thing aloud, barely able to get through it because of his laughter, and then would state – every single time he finished it – “It doesn’t make any sense!!”

That, to him, was the funniest part of it!

Actually, that’s not quite the case. To Cashel, the absolute pinnacle of comedy was contained in the two words “lazy warrant”.

For whatever reason, he thought that was SO FUNNY and would start to laugh about it 5 words before it came, because he could feel the comedy approaching.

“Lazy warrant”.

We made a joke about how Cashel could use that as an insult on the playground (to throw at the bullies, who are not really bullies, they are just cowards.) Then when Cashel is taken to the principal’s office or someone tries to tell on him, nobody will even understand what the insult means.

“Cashel called me a Lazy Warrant!”

Cashel thought this was such a funny image. “Nobody would know what it meant if I called them that!! ‘You lazy warrant’!” he cried, followed by a huge burst of laughter at the thought.

I know I wouldn’t like to be called a Lazy Warrant.

We then made up a game. I would call him a “saucy goblet”, and his cutting rejoinder would be “Lazy warrant!”

“You saucy goblet.”
“You lazy warrant!”
“You saucy goblet!”
“You lazy warrant!”

Cashel sat in the back seat of the car, as they drove off, seat belt on, looking so LITTLE, completely engrossed in his Star Wars magazine, and unaware that his two emotional Aunties were having a hard time saying good-bye.

We called at him, “You saucy goblet!”

I could see him call back “Lazy Warrant” obediently, but his mind was already elsewhere, on his magazine, but I could see his mouth form the words, “Lazy Warrant” – Couldn’t hear his voice because the window was up, but it was so cute just the same.

Always does my heart good to see that little saucy goblet.