While resting there on the street alone, a girl whom I had recently met on the first floor of Magnolia came and sat next to me and I conversed with the child innocently. My Aunt Gwenie apparently picked me out of the crowd and started screaming my name,”Juni! Juni!” Continue reading
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
This is an old shot of the Teatro Capitolio. Image thanks to our friends at LatinOL.com.
That early morning light caught me at a time when I was the sole representative from the Magnolia and War Zone Buildings neighborhood. I stood there like a soldier at rest, a proud member of the National Institute Marching Band drum section. Continue reading
Here is the newspaper photo of young Rannie McAlmon who drowned at Gorgona Beach on July 4 1946.
Back in the days of my youth when I knew nothing at all about religion and I was introduced to churchgoing by my paternal grandmother and aunts, I came up with the idea that Jesus Christ was the good Obeah Man. Continue reading
Instituto Nacional de Panamá with its familiar double Sphinxes guarding the entrance. Image thanks to skyscrapercity.com, a forum for architects.
The experience of just entering a school as famous as The National Institute of Panama made me feel reassured that I had a place in the history of that institution. My family history, after all, had been seeded with the essence of that school with my Uncle Eric Reid being one of the first to brave what it had meant to be one of the sons of Panama and a member of the institution in its early days. Continue reading
My hopes were set high on being admitted to the Instituto Nacional. Image thanks to parentingainteasy.com
I had been estranged from the neighborhood kids for some two summer vacations that I could remember. I had been too preoccupied with nursing an old friend, and this summer the fracas with Rico had catapulted my reputation to a recognized “good boxer” status. Since then, however, I became known for being a reclusive kid. I neither discussed any of my activities with any of the neighborhood kids nor kept any of the teenagers from the area as close companions. It just came to me as my best action plan to stay out of trouble. Continue reading