I kept the unopened letter in my back pocket. Image from Morguefile.com
That afternoon I hurried back to my garage, for I thought of never responding to my father or taking him up on anything he had to offer. This resolve not to respond to him set me free forever and I vowed not to open the letter or read it. At that time in our lives I had a bad feeling about allowing that man who called himself my father to dominate any part of my life again. By the time I reached my garage I had stuck the letter in my back pocket unopened and tried to forget it. I had known that man most of my young life and at that moment I rejected the very idea of having his cruel presence in my life ever again. Continue reading
Although I was back to my troubled reality I could still enjoy the beauty of Colon. Typical Colon Balcony, probably the most beautiful in the whole Republic. Image thanks to file-magazine.com
I had gotten up late that morning and hoped to make it to the open Market fonda in the middle of Colon City for something to eat and I sighed as I awoke that it was back to troubled reality. As I passed by some of my street friends, I wondered why they were congregated at the side door of the Twelfth Street entrance to the Bar. I stopped there before I continued on my way. But one of the guys at the side door had spied me and called me over. Continue reading
Another old photo of Bocas Town circa 1910 (Isla Colon) from our friend, Señor José Price’s collection.
The trip to Bocas Town had not been thoroughly planned but I cared less and less about going back to work in the fields of Baseline since I knew the marriage was not a union anymore. Continue reading
Image is of the Mechanics Lodge posing for a group picture with their families. About 1912 at Isla Colon. Just as in Colon and Panama City the Lodges made up a very important part of the life of the West Indian Panamanian society. Image thanks to Sr. José Price.
These were the times of the Panamanian presidency of Ernesto de la Guardia, Jr., while we remained in Baseline, today known as the area of Changuinola in Bocas del Toro Province. However, today I would probably not recognize that same Changinola River area I got to know the first day I ventured up there to seek work back in 1956. But, it was an area that my co-workers and I would get to know as home and we shared many adventures together as plantation laborers just as my West Indian forefathers had done years before. At this point in my life, now with a new baby and a wife in tow, I was ready to depart from this tainted land for me, swearing that I would never go back. Nevertheless, I started meeting new friends. Continue reading
I had to admit that Pug would not have made a “Good Wife,” not then nor ever for me. But then, I had to further admit that I had been looking at our lives through my own experience with women. The truth was that I was overwhelmed with that hidden side of my life, that I had been growing up with experiences gained mostly from Westindian women. Continue reading
China’s mood didn’t change over the course of the next few days, however, and it was something I could not talk to her about- ever- during the course of our life together. Her sullenness would become an ordeal for me, to have this young girl around not wanting to talk to me about anything. Worse yet, I was taking the blame and responsibility for something she had never wanted to discuss with me, her pregnancy. I would be glad every morning just to leave her and her apparent ailment behind and keep my mind on my job. Continue reading