My sister Betty died this year. At the time I could not bring myself to write about it but today, the 23rd of December, is Betty Casey’s birthday and I feel the need to comment. Betty was the eldest of six children, I came in the middle, number three in line. There was something magic about our childhood.  We were reared in the Phoenix Park a vast enclosed piece of country located in the heart of the city of Dublin.  Our father Harry was a gate keeper and we lived in a gate lodge. While I was young the universe was packed into that small lodge and its environs.  What…