Photographed by Yee Ting Kuit
My paternal grandmother always reminded me that I was a special child which means highly favored. The word special has varied meaning to me over the years; in the Bahamas when certain friends and family call me special it means silly. No I am not eccentric.
During Easter I stayed in a certain couple’s home, there was serenity in the atmosphere of their home. Shortly afterward I felt compelled to contact the couple, I spoke to them on several occasions thereafter but never physically met them. Sadly the husband passed away and the funeral service was held on my birthday, a few days ago. Yes, on my birthday. My friends and family members were very vocal on whether or not I should attend a funeral on my birthday given their view that he was not family.
To me this was my family as he represented so many things. Father Thaddeus Pratt dedicated his life to the honor and glory of God and has been a loving father and husband. He was married for fifty one years which is a glorious example of love and devotion. I am sure that is something we wish to emulate; Mrs Florence Pratt and I are in the same sister-hood. It was a sensible thing to do as it was a celebration of an extraordinary person’s life and co-incidentally mine.
There was a certain joy at his home going celebration. It reminded me of a feel for luxury; in terms of life’s accomplishments, achievements. It was a time to reflect, it gave me a challenge to carry on, it was a wake up call to do better and it reminded me to live life to the fullest and make the most of opportunities and time. I am no stranger to funerals after all, as my great grandfather died the day I was born, hence the reason why my grandmother calls me special.
This week marked another year of celebration. Are you taking note of the various accomplishments of your life? Are you truly grateful for even the minor endeavors of others?
Photographed by Alex Shalman
Okay, I was in the kitchen frying some plantains and was too lazy to use the fork to turn them over, so I used the knife in my hand. My grandmother’s voice echoed in my ear as my husband peeped over my shoulder and said you will make the knife dull. My reply was no I should not use the knife in a hot pan because mama said doing that would giving me ‘cutting in my stomach.’ He said that he is sure that is not the reason why she didn’t want me to use the knife for cooking. He said maybe she just wanted you to use a spoon and that was the reason she gave you. Who can tell if that was her real reason or who can tell how far back generationally this ‘cutting in your belly’ tradition goes back? When you really think of it I was dependent upon and trusted my grandmother and her advice was written in stone. I did not think what she said was invalid or even question the concept. I adapted anything and everything from her. This story is like that ham story where people for years have been cutting off the ends of the ham because of tradition or habit, but the real reason was that originally both ends of the ham were cut to fit in a small pan. As my friend Susan puts it so eloquently “how rich our lives become as we learn each day, from our assumptions, lack of knowledge, oversights, and even mistakes.”
Have you looked forward to the prospect of something and it did not materialize? Well, my Lily did not produce a flower this Easter. In the midst of my disappointment there are recurring thoughts of the many beautiful strings of lilies that are strung in my associations.
I pray that you are not daunted by your unfulfilled expectations but your passion will inspire you to produce no matter your displeasure.
Photographed by Martin Applegate
When last have you sat down and recounted the days when you thought that your parents were highly unreasonable, judicious, controlling, and rigid? Have you ever as a child remembered those one or two times (maybe more) when you contemplated the possibility you may have been adopted. It could be that you even took it a step further and expressed your hostility in words like “I hate them/you/her/him.†Don’t say that it is only me that thought these things. Now that you are a parent guardian or simply an adult you have come to realize that they were not mercenaries. Their tactics, however misconstrued, were meant to protect, love and care. As a parent looking back I see things in a different way. I now realize that all the parenting I received, with the benefit of hindsight, now all makes sense!
Spasm
Reprimands hit like a ball
Mass defense
Aversion – misapprehension
Field of translation adrift
Images of hidden strangers
Them and us
The struggle
Capricious rituals
Fresh with sour outpour
Their inexplicable beliefs
Beyond reach or comprehension
The common experiences pointless
Now!
The fanaticism of rite and right and wrong
Fluid …
Trimmed with grace plus erudition
The magnificent just war
The sacrificial symbols
Transitioned
Into components of our lives
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Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Soar and the world sees you
Sing and men will hear you
Rise and your followers are many
Dream and there will be plenty
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Poem by Brenda L McCartney
Photographed by Anthony Asael
The term ‘school bruk up’ was a term that we used every summer to mean ‘school is on break.’ At one time I literally thought they had to break down the structure and rebuild it then later I learned the actual meaning. It was the hurricane season but hurricanes never came until September or after.
Looking back at the end of the term in Primary (Elementary) School all students/pupils were happy and looked forward after exams to the two months holiday. Officially this time of the year all schools in the Caribbean are on holiday; the commencement exercises, the speech days, the prize giving ceremonies have all climaxed. Children looked forward to going away to spend holidays with their relatives on the islands or the United States or explore their own island. The ones who remained home looked forward to Vacation Bible School, the mango season or simply to have adventures up and down the river; to catch Cray fish or play games like we were Huckle Berry Finn and Tom Sawyer.
A treat for me was to visit my Aunt in another village and spend most of my summer with her and meet other cousins from her village.
Sometimes my excitement of sharing summer with my cousins was short lived as I had an Aunt who loved telling her children the night before they were due to travel take down their suitcases because they were going away the next day. I vividly remember my cousins protesting. I lived in the country looked forward to going to town often with my aunt, godmother or grandmother. I also look forward to play lawn tennis as my aunt had a tennis court among many other treats. ( I still have what is left of my Arthur Ashe Tennis Racket from back then.)
Another memory was visiting my paternal side of the family and getting to know them. I recall my grandfather milking the cows, whisking the cake batter by hand and my grandmother baking or preparing a meal for someone who did not have it. My brother always had to visit some relative or friend of my paternal grandmother to carry some of the delicious treats she prepared. Sometimes he had to walk or take a bus. I am so blessed to have her as my only living grandparent. (She just celebrated her 94th birthday.)
Another highlight of the summer as well was to go to the Village Post Office. The interesting thing about attending the Post Office was that all the people in the village gathered around a particular time when the postman was expected. When the postman came we all assembled outside a house they would call the mail out one by one. If any mail came for your family or even you, you had to say loudly “please pass it.” Of course the children would always go to Post Office about an hour before roll call to meet up with one another and play roundus, cricket or doge ball in the road; and of course we were always interrupted by traffic. (Traffic on the island is not like how it is now in the busy streets.) We were so thankful when the postman was late so we could have extra time to play. Occasionally we would go to beach as a treat but under the supervision of a trusted adult – maybe an out of town relative who was visiting.
We may have not had much but we did not know that then because we enjoyed every moment of life and the experience of summer was such a joy.
Looking back at it we should live free as children and enjoy the simple things in life.
Painting by William H. Johnson
I had a colleague who had her first child at forty two years of age. When I met her, her son was nine years old, healthy and very intelligent. Every afternoon at three o’clock she would complain about the traffic congestion on her way to pick up her son. One day I could not withhold my thoughts anymore, I said to her “think about the woman who wishes she had a child to pick up after school. She came to me a week later and said Brenda you know that day you told me to stop complaining from that day onward, I realized how blessed I was to have such a duty of care. ” She continued to express that no matter how long she had to wait, it was joy to see her son at three o’clock. It has been years since that talk and every time I see her she says thank you for that day.
Sometimes someone just needs a word of correction/praise/encouragement life can be changed just by a simple decision we make. Today look at your problems and complaints and see your gift(s) or blessing(s).
I read a book called ‘Walk Tall’ by Carleen Brice and this exercise always resonates with me as someone who loves the arts. She writes “Close your eyes and picture your life as a work of art – a novel, song, sculpture or painting. What are the words, sounds, shapes and textures and color you see. Now open your eyes. Is this what you want your life to say, sound like or look like? If not change it”
Today create your beauty.
Happy Father’s day to a wonderful father; my husband Enrique A. McCartney
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