Tag Archives: Miss-Polly

New Priests and Monkey Paws

A priestly ordination. Image wikipedia

She visited the old Santana Church on her own this time and when she returned she was absolutely buoyant, radiant in fact. Almost half talking to herself as she entered through the door she continued glorifying God and how she had just seen the most beautiful sight. As usual, Mamí and I were the only ones home and it quickly became apparent that Miss Polly had participated in an ordination ceremony in which several new priests had been confirmed in a special Mass. Continue reading

Escaping Segregation in Death

This image represents the grand celebration
of light that is observed in Presov, Slovakia.
This is how we all should celebrate All Soul’s Day
in the Americas in memory of our beloved
ancestors who worked to leave us the best of all
possible worlds. Image is from: www.iarelative.com

I learned a great deal from Miss Polly and her experiences, especially about death and dying. Since my grandmother’s retirement my Aunt Berenice had lost her first (and only) child and no one talked about the infant or my two deceased uncles Eric and Vicente or where they were buried, much less go visit the graves of these young men who had long ago become part of that Black Canal Zone. I used to watch how the Black Westindian people buried their dead and congregated during the funeral for any and all spiritual gifts from any kind of church or organization that might have presided. Continue reading

A Pot of Rundon and Sensuality Calling

The image is of an exquisite pot of Rundon, or rundown, as it is variously called- Jamaican style.

Image.

That school year, in fact, I had stayed off the streets as much as possible and stayed at home mostly reading all the books I was able to understand from the odd collection amongst the three small bookshelves in the home of my now retired grandmother. School would soon be a thing of the past I thought as I leafed through some French volumes left to me by Miss Del Marie just before she left to return to Martinique. Continue reading

Susú Messenger Boy and Slave

I wholeheartedly support the strong anti-child labor movement in the world as we must put an end to the attitude of adults who feel they can take advantage of the vulnerability of children.

Presently, I’d gone back to doing what I knew best to do which was helping my grandmother, but I got the impression that I was beginning to feel too comfortable being around my grandmother and her adult female friends and associates, especially running Susú. It was a time that, at every turn it seemed, I’d become so trained by my grandmother that I was feeling taken for granted. I was not only the general handyman to her but to every one of her friends. Continue reading