Hoping that I would be safe there by that board building at that corner, darkness suddenly overcame me as if someone had turned off all the lights which scared me. I stood there allowing the fresh night air to help revive me and so it did. Continue reading
Dwight D. Eisenhower, official White House portrait. Image thanks to Wikipedia.
The year 1953 was an eventful one as with most of the years ushering in the Baby Boomer generation. Dwight D. Eisenhower was inaugurated as President of the United States of America, with Richard Nixon as his Vice President. While there was a flaming Mau Mau uprising in the African colony of Kenya, most of Americans’ newfound joy, the television set, were tuned to “I Love Lucy,” the first real American sitcom. Continue reading
“It is better to dwell in the wilderness, than with a contentious and an angry woman.” Proverbs 21:19
By my second year in the National Institute my situation at home had not improved any in so far as how I figured in the scheme of things. I still felt the sting of rejection from all sides, home and school and now in the media, like the newspapers of the day. Even the Black Christ had been excommunicated by the Bishop of Colon. Continue reading
The reality of the night before, of dancing all night and of having had the best time of my life, had vanished with the quiet of a Saturday morning that took its effect on a budding fourteen year old boy. I awoke to find that self that I, again, had to deal with- the Westindian man child, an individual of the Negro race whose peers in the barrios would still have problems dealing with. Continue reading
A typical bush scene in Pacora.
Although my father had taken ship and had pretty much left my life for the rest of my childhood, I was still the thirteen year old kid in search of those all important “good memories” of him. As cruel and heartlessly as he had acted with me, I could not help but reflect fondly upon my father. He possessed some qualities that were worthy and dignified to be useful to a growing man child as the year 1949 approached marking the end of an eventful decade as much for my people in Panama as for myself. Continue reading
This image is similar to the
Virgin Mary grotto image that
brought me so much peace as a child at
Cristo Rey Church.
Since the day in the first grade that I had experienced the paternal side of my family tree and their terrible judgment in child rearing, I inevitably developed those feelings of wanting to be detached from that first generation of Westindians. The cruel beatings my father had unmercifully rained on me was just an introduction to feeling unprotected. My parents’ divorce had led to such treatment I reasoned and had triggered the crudity of the beatings my Aunt Gwendolyn encouraged my father to dole out to me. Continue reading