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Reliving the Glory Days

Last weekend, I visited two former high school friends who were also my teammates on our high school basketball team. It didn't take us long to catch up and reminisce on our glory days. Days filled with summer leagues, that I did not participate in, basketball tournaments that taught me the game at a rapid pace and endless summers at the gym and wearing short uniform shorts; not very cute, not very cute at all, but we made it work. Check out this  photo?

photo from the yearbook taken by segal majestic

 I have to tell you, I did not intentionally choose to play basketball, it chose me. I just happened to be one of two taller girls walking down the hall, who was approach by three shorties each about 5"2. Apparently, all the girls who tried out for the JV team measured around 5'2. That's how I came to basketball, they needed some height. Knowledge of the game was a whole other story. This is sort of sad and funny at the same time so listen, what I'm about to tell you goes no further than here ok? during one our games, I had an amazing steal. I  dribbled the ball all the way down the court, the crowd was going wild, screaming my name, yelling frantically. I was pumped! the cheers only encouraged me to give a bit more effort, as I slowed down to finish the lay up, I missed.... and the crowd went wild. Instantly, I was confused, I look up at the crowd and everyone appeared happy, then I looked down at my coach who just about snapped my head off.


I dribbled down the court and shot the ball in at the opponents basket. Yah, I did, I missed, what does it matter? It was in the past.  OK?


I also visited my former basketball coach and father of one of the ladies mentioned above. You know it didn't take long before the story of the near fatal shot almost heard around the world to come up. Yeah, it's a joke now, yes, it IS!. After some brief hellos and introduction of my family we traveled back in time. The year books came out, old pics and you would not guess what else surfaced; an old VHS recording of some of our games. Oh snap!!!

buddy

Listen, it's one thing to tell your kids stories of your greatness but it's a whole other story when evidence shows up to dispute of verify those stories. There were times when I added a little extra to the story each time I told or retold it. Ok, I did, I added a little bit every time. This reminds me of a short story I will share with you now. The other day my 9 year old wrote an entry in his summer journal about his dog buddy, yes the poser up to the right. This kid wrote some elaborate story about forgetting to take the dog out and that I woke him up at 11pm to walk the dog. He went into great details about being scared but the dog did a great job protecting him. I said, little guy when did this happen? He said, " it didn't, but you have to keep it interesting." hmmmmmm?



The summer of 1989 was spent in Dominica, it was one of my best  vacations ever. I traveled with my basketball.  I could barely sleep the first night. In the morning I got dressed in my sweats, bball in hand and went on the road to find a pick up game. I searched high and low, low and high, sideways, frontways, backwards, forwards and I could not find a game, but by now I am burning up cause it was hot. I was so hot, I was about to either faint or melt. Yes, I had on a hooded sweatshirt as well.


I had to go change,  as I approached the home stretched, I stopped to visit with a good friend. As soon as he saw me he asked, guhl wah a big girl like you walking around with a bouncing ball for? Of course, I said it was a basketball, he said, wha basketball dat, gul nobody doh playing dat around here, wha foolness dat? Go by the old school and play netball with them order gurls. Netball? what is netball? Bor wha I hearing dere nor? you doh know wha netball...he didn't even finish the question, he was so disgusted in a funny but serious way. No, I don't, and how come you don't know about basketball? I asked. He answered my question with a question, bor how old you be? I said 16. SIXTEEN?, stupppeeesss, gurl put dong da ball dere. You doh fine you too old for dat? Nor man, fine something else to do.

Men's basketball team, photographer Lenard Augustine (maybe)

They weren't ready yet. Netball was all the rage,  I took my ball, put it away and got into watching and tried with all my might to learn the game of netball. I found it to be very much like a version of basketball without dribbling or a lot of running.  Everyone seemed to love it except me, I don't know if it was in response to not being able to play but I did NOT embrace it. 

After spending some time watching the VHS game clips, my kids turned and looked at me their with eyes glossed over, mouth gaping, with arms open wide to embrace me apologetically, mumbling, mommy, you were good, you were really good! Ok so I wished that's what they said,  Instead, they did give me a couple high fives and cheered for their mom who had a few great moves on the bee ball court. Nothing like reliving the glory days and walking away more gloriously than I did all those years ago. Now I am a champion to my gang. A Champion!


One more thing, a year after I left, I found out that the village did get into basketball and was very well represented by an awesome mens basketball team that dominated the courts and pulverized their opponents. How could they not? I mean, Mr. Sixfootplus was on the team, of course they were super? I'm just saying.  You know what? yes, I take credit for introducing basketball to the village. Ok, how about partial credit? none? I tried. 

Ode to a Super Principal

There was a lady, a special lady principal who had big dreams and goals for her students of the Wesley Government School. She had a large vocabulary, and enunciated words the way I've never heard words spoken before. Her face expressed every letter of the word as it came out of her mouth. Her lips curled to capture and form all the sounds every word made. I've never witnessed anything since. I don't think.

She quoted quotes, made up quotes, wrote quotes, and re-worded quotes. I still remember when a chatty church school house of about 300 kids would be loud, much too loud for her tolerance she would quote, "empty vessels make the most noise." A church school house full of students instantly became quiet following the corrective lash. She quoted the bible, prayed the bible, and memorized whole chapters of bible and expected the same of her students. To this day, I still remember Psalm 121, "I will lift up mine eyes onto the hills from whence cometh my health, my health cometh from the Lord......." . 

She made her students sing songs. Songs that I had never heard before. Teachers, Aspey and Walford would lead the singing. We learned and sang songs by, Simon and Garfunkel, Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk to you again, because a vision softly creeping. Left it seeds while I was sleeping, and vision that was planted in my brain still remain, and echo in sound of silence." Yes, the title of that song, was/is Sound of Silence. Who can forget the instructing duos lessons on singing, Sammy Dead...first couple verses as I remember them goes like this, "ah nuh teef sammy teef mek dem kill um, uh huh! ah nuh teef sammy teef mek dem kill um, uh huh, but ah grudgeful, dem grudgeful, kill sammy." Please join in as you remember the words..Sammy plant piece ah corn dong ah corna...another song we learned was, "I'd like to teach the World to sing in perfect harmony, I'd like to hold it in my hand and keep it company," by, I don't know the artist will add after I Google it Jan Howard.


Whenever we left school at noon for lunch, we'd pray a prayer of  blessing over our food that was at home. We would run through the prayer like this, "we thank de Lord for dis hour food bor more because of JesusChrist, let manna too"..STOP! STOP! STOP! HOLD IT! "A prayer is NOT a race! take your time and speak, say it again." she'd say, we'd say it again, and again and again, until hunger was no longer the reason we were racing through the prayer. By the time we were done she had taken up a good half hour of our lunch time. 


I should've mentioned this earlier. When we arrived for school in the morning she'd make us sing the doxology, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow, praise him all screatures here below," STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP! SCREATURES? she'd ask with great fury, WHAT ARE SCREATURES? we didn't care what screatures were, all that was important is that it sound beautifully and right when we sang it in the verse.  She'd make us sing it over, and over and over and over again. I don't know if we had some wise guys who would purposely repeat screatures or a few forgetful souls who, out off habit kept repeating screatures over and over again. 

How could one forget the doxology? It came after prayers, Psalms and the National Anthem was sung. 


How could I have forgotten the National Anthem? "Isle of Beauty, Isle of splendor, Isle to allsosweet and fair, all must surely gaze in wonder at thy gifts so rich and rare.....Dominica, God hath bless thee with aclimbebegnin and bright...pastures green and flow'rs of beauty......."  Boy! oh Boy! oh Boy! There was something about us singing these verses that would set her off. We would sing flowers of beauty and she DID NOT want to hear that. She wanted us the sing flow'rs of beauty. Our young minds just wouldn't do it cause to us its flowers and not flow'rs cause we've never spoken old English before and that just took us forever to get right. I think we spent our entire morning going over that part again and again. By the time we were done it was lunch time. OK. maybe not, but it surely felt like it. 
She would make us sing the National Anthem until I would become light headed, well I didn't, but thinking about it right now makes me light headed.

When it was time to leave for school for the day we would sign our last and final song of the day, "now the day is over, night is drawing nigh, shadows o'er the evening, still across the sky." I feel sleepy just singing it right now, cause I really felt like the day was truly over. 


I'm the first one to complain about my commute but our Lady principal made a daily commute from Marigot to Wesley and back each and everyday. She didn't have her own transportation and she did that for years and was always on time except maybe twice only because she couldn't get a ride. Wow! who gave her that assignment? Didn't Marigot have a school where she could've been the principal? Her commute would've been so much closer and easier. I almost forgot to mention, she had her nephew with her as well doing the same commute all these years. A young smiley face, pleasant, kind and gracious young guy, who didn't have much friends in the village at first but he was really one of the nicest, smiliest guys ever!


My last memory of this stern, selfless and committed Principal was on a field to her house in Marigot that she organized for us students. Initially, I wasn't going, not because I decided I wasn't going to go but I was so adventurous, I had to make sure I didn't take on any new adventures that would cause me to miss out. Simple I had to be good for a minute. It was one of the best school days I've ever had, she fed and hosted us. I don't remember much except the grapefruit juice was delish.  


I honor you, Mrs. Samuel for striving for and demanding excellence from your students. Your standards were certainly very high and may have seem a difficult expectation at the time. I am one of many who undoubtedly have been influenced by you. You've left your mark.   If you have a memory and would like to share please do so.

My Champion

The other day our 9 year old played in not his first but his second championship basketball game, he's only been playing for two seasons, good right? no, he's a hard worker, who loves basketball and just ends up with the best teammates ever. He's kind, believes in fairness, loves junk food, has a great head of hair, is extremely inquisitive, walks on his tippy toes and is a fabulous re-bounder. The other day after a game, he was given a compliment that he was the best re-bounder on his team. He was so offended by the compliment; he felt it was an insult to his teammates who play equally as hard.


As we drove to the club where he would face the team they beat twice in the regular season, needless to say he was pumped. He was getting advice from the left from his sister, from the right from his brother, from the back from his other brother, diagonally from his dad, from in front from his mom. He was pumped, we were pumped! It was going to be exciting as all his games are. Then his big sis who also plays basketball held his arm, looked him directly in the eye and said, all you have to do is your best, that's all you have to do. When the game is over, no matter what the outcome, you can walk off the court knowing that you've done your best." All coaching ended after that bit of advice.


From the moment our champion blue devil stepped onto the court the action was non stop. He was rebounding, stealing, shooting, grabbing, falling, dribbling, blocking shots, turning the ball over, calling for the ball, passing, high fiving and playing a defense that would shut Kobe and Lebron down, hands down. Yes, there are other members on the team and they are very talented, excellent players, but he's the only one that's my child hence, my focus.


It was his killer defense that provoked the player he was guarding to turn on him physically. This kid either the same age or maybe 10 but not older, began pushing, elbowing, and two hand jabbing our baby in the middle of his back. Notice how he went from champion to "our baby" ahahahaha, at first momma just chucked it up to maybe a hand check that was a bit aggressive, but after two, four, six times of the same thing and no whistle? momma's temperature immediately shot to no lower than 100 degrees. Still undeterred, our champion pushed through playing a more intense defense as the game was within two points scoring point for point at each end, oh it was intense, I know! 9 and 10 year olds? Who knew kids played basketball so well at this age. I mean they were shooting jumpers, three points, pump faking, the works.


The game was at, I think, maybe the 6:27 minute mark when one jab in particular brought out the Momma Mufasa and the female wolverine in me all at the same time, my internal temperature rose to about 107/108 degrees Fahrenheit immediately. I was about to either passout or wolf out.


It was then, the trumpet within better known as my voice bellowed for the ref to check the pushing and jabbing my son was repeatedly receiving from this other kid. Still, no whistle then I felt the claws I didn't know I had come out. All I saw was red as my head turned in the direction where this kid's parents sat. It was during this time as I was seeing red, everything also began moving in slow motion. As the world around me suddenly slowed down, the last and final break the camel's back jab came almost pushing our champion down as he was about to intercept a pass and then it think I wolfed out.


I would like to say my tone was kind and pleasing with a hint of volume to it, but it was NOT!  I know, once the ref heard my command to check the pushing, those words in his ears must've sounded and felt like he had received a thousand acidic laced lashes across his back. I think everyone in the gym including the kids heard me.


Thank the Lord, because it was also during this time I heard a voice, God's voice sounding,  very much like Mufasa's in my head saying, "rememba whooo you ah! I don't know how it happened, but as the world began moving in fast forward or at regular speed again, the clock was now at 2:47, I was on my feet with an internal temperature of about 110 degrees trying to hold it together for our champion, try very hard to model adult behavior for all the kids present especially our kids, as well as learning that our kids will face challenges other than facing the next best team on the league within their age bracket on the basketball court in life.

Championship award

Our champion's team lost the game by 4 points, all the kids received awards and were congratulated. When I got to the car I saw that he was crying. After some quiet time he asked, mommy did you see my defense? did you see how many rebounds I had?  did you see when my team mate scored that basket, did you see the amazing pass my teammate made at the last second? Not once did he mentioned that he was pushed by the kid that caused my temperature to rise. When his siblings brought it up, his response was yeah, I know, that kid kept pushing me but did you see my defense? Then he said, I am so tired, I played so hard, can we go get ice-cream to celebrate? and with that, we stood in the best soft serve ice cream line in the area for about 15 minutes.


What a champion! He didn't even know nor had a clue that his mom was about to pass out from internal overheating in the stands. At the end of the game, I did walk over to the kid's parents to let them know, that their son IS indeed an excellent ball player and congratulated them on the win. It was also at this time that  apologies were exchanged for becoming overly emotionally involved in the game.

Back to School Wash Out

For some of you, the title alone brings back violent memories of a parent coming at you 3D with the world's largest table spoon, with a command of OPEN!!!!!!! Listen, our memories would not exist had we spent our summers thinking about the dreaded "wash out" that would come at the end of summer we wouldn't eaten  anything...well, I wouldn't have eaten half the things I did. "Wash Out," a regimen of cleansing medicines that included but not limited to, bitters, say-nah, castor oil, worm medicine, and cod liver oils for some. Please share if yours had some other types of meds. that i did not include..Some of you may get a little sick from all the nostalgia but hang in there. 

The day school let out or was over and all the hegas was out of the way, that's when summer feast for me was in full swing. Okay maybe summer type feast was always in season for me, that's when summer feasting for some began. Ok, let's get it out of the way now, I would never use the word greedy and definitely not HAG, to describe my childhood interest in food. I would say, I liked to experience the food family.  Summer afforded me the opportunity to experience it more than any other time of year with Christmas being the one and only exception. I would definitely, cross over into the over indulgence category, ONLY during Christmas. 


Summer? wow!one only had to think of what was in season and wishes would come true. For instance, if Kenip was in season, then BABES was the go to girl.   I remember, before I could even think of making it to BABES I had several stops to make, like raiding Khancoo or Cooksie plum trees. Khancoo plum was a different kind of plum, if his plum had a little purple line on it? well then, the whole plum was ripe. It wasn't ripe to you? hmmmm...I wondered why my teeth would turn a nice shade of brown, yours too? who cares, it was ripe. And who can forget picking some green SOUR gooseberries off of Mr. Dent's tree? huh?


Some of you probably used to hit up the farine pit if it was open for some bamboola, or farine. I don't think I used to go to the farine pit often, only when I had to go to Mr. Tyoleh to make a message and the farine pit just happened... to be on my way, since I was coming from the church street direction. Yep, it was right in my path.  I just remembered, I sometimes would end up in bottom Wesley to visit family right around lunch time, with  the hungriest child in the village look on my face, it was summer people, oh I did that all year long come to think of it. anyways...


If the way home was toward the four-road, then ways parted at this point. It was here where most friends said their summer good byes and went their separate ways..well until it crossed a short time later. People our village was and is small, we probably saw each other a few hours later, this is about summer ok, role with me. To those heading towards Eden Road a solid marsh was exchanged. I guess that meant bye, and those heading up church road a proud, hal you skin was the exchange!...ok! OKAY!! so I exaggerated a tiny bit. All I know is that those heading up the road towards central square kindly said with a smile, see you later. ok! okay, geez...so may be we said Marsh, or Hal your skin, back.....I really don't remember......the second parting of ways came at the ontop road intersection....Whoa!!I am suddenly reminded of the dreaded stoning I would get by a Mr. Unnamed..at that very intersection almost yearly....wow!.


 OKay, listen, I don't know if many of you remember the days when MOPO was the place to be.  It was the only open field area in the village with two major mango trees, two, maybe three guava fields, the health center and Ma Ahl- icepops and frozen joys, joyce. It was a short jog away from Murphy's -tambrine balls, Ms. Emma breadfruit, Mr. Cyrus cherries and Ma Daytoush- pomceterre. Oh, Sundays, were they days to get some pomceterre. I don't know if Ma Daytoush had open Sundays or what? but her sons or some others would climb the tree and shake, shake shake the sugar apple? star apple? heck pomceterre and the masses would hit the ground fighting abolow, finding snakes and whatever else was in the way of them getting their beloved and juicy pomcetere.


Ma Datousch home was a fruit lovers paradise, they had Mami, guava in the back and plum behind the kitchen. A short walk to the left,  one could also feast on Miss Daisy's Madway mango and if you were so moved,  you could've taken the short cut toward ten shilling hill to get some of the Tin mango on Ten Shillinghill, or Santana's guava or sour sop; and since you are right on Battice road, one could just hang out in Mr. Onnis (Ernest) garden and enjoy a variety of mangoes...you mean it wasn't free?  Well, if that wasn't your thing then a short visit to Mr. Horatious for some passion fruit or some grafted, long or another kind of mango was it.

photo by Revelyn St. John

Yes? Yes! Yes, I was talking about MOPO! Remember when the second police building in the back was like a place of affluence one dared to tread? oh yeah it was fenced so you really couldn't go in freely. To the very back of the second building was a grassy open area, it was here many would gather to stone the liqa mango tree that was always loaded during the summer months. I remember grown men would climb that tree and a short time later all you would hear is LAYZAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!


It was at this same open place at the second building where I would sneak off to taste or attempt to taste one of Miss Morine cashews. Still don't know what hers taste like cause, I was never ever successful, that lady's radar was better than any monitoring system I've read about in the U.S. She was good. I would shamefacedly walk up the little short cut from her house back to the police station area where a couple of things would be going on, like some of the best mega roundas matches.


As i've said before, I am not a bragadocious person but I used to be a GOOD roundas playa. I was neva on any team why? you ask...well it because some areas in the village already had their top players and I guess I was never in that category because I was too young, yeah, that's why. moving along.....


MOPO, was the place with the biggest guava fields in-front of and behind the health center. Psssh, stories of needles, scare me? who me? no way! Behind the health center had big breed guavas and needle or not, I HAD to be the one to pick it. There was one challenger who was better in conquering the guava fields than I. She had like a ripe guava sensor built into her sense of smell. When I wanted more than the regular amount, she was my ace.


It was in MOPO, before they put all the mocab in the TIN mango root that the stoning champions would come out to test their strength and aim. The tree was tall and not very wide like the liqa tree. I remember grown men throwing stones with such strength and precision that one would hear the wwrrrrrrrrhhh sound from the power  of their throw. Impressed, I am now as I recall the memory, but stupid and greedy I was then, because I never gave thought to letting the stone drop before I sprinted under the tree to make sure I grabbed my fair share of mangoes even if it meant me possibly getting a burse boss head in the process. Oh yeah, that did happen once but I will NOT go into details at this time. 

photo by Taban Telemaque

photo by Isaiah Joseph

I haven't even talked about the pawdo trips, stoning bomarie, Ms. Gladys Ice Cream, Ms. Mazie pudding, Docounah, Ms. Tourist Gooseberry, fine cake, hard cake, pineapple, sweet sop, sour sop, watermelon, eating breadnut, veeoh, oh boy, this reminds me of a time when we thought the river had taken one of our friends, will post another time, grapefruit, oranges, tangerines, sucking cacao, all make up the memories of summer foods that leads to the washing out  regime as we prepared to go back to school.

photo by Murphy Matthew

As you and I listen to the moaning and groaning of our kids not looking forward to returning to school, I  realize a few things.. 1) their limited Caribbean childhood experience and.. 2) I don't understand the complaints as the transition from summer to back to school seems so easy, yet they still complain.  Oh well, don't think I'd much like having to run to the bathroom to help them anyways.

The Tooth Fairy

About two maybe three weeks ago, our six year old lost one front tooth and listen, I have to tell you,  I thought his one missing tooth smile was the cutest thing a mom could ever lay eyes on, until about five days later he lost the neighboring front tooth. His toothless mouth is so funny and cute it brings a smile to my face  whenever he opens his mouth.

missing both

Everyone was so excited, we tend to make a big deal around here. We were all so excited, his big sis asked, are you going to put your tooth teeth under your pillow so that the tooth fairy will leave you a dollar?" to that he responded,  the last time, Ii put my tooth under the pillow daddy came in and took it and left a dollar..... Uhhhmmmmm!~) Right away we knew daddy was playing tooth fairy and got caught so we all went into damage control mode, cause our 6 year old had given up on the tooth fairy. We explained that the tooth fairy really isn't daddy; we told him it just so happened that the tooth fairy on assignment must looked just like daddy, we added, you didn't get a good look cause it was nighttime and it was dark.   To that she sarcastically responded, it was in the daytime. Crushed again in our attempts to reassure him that the tooth fairy does exist. Still in damage control mode we quickly added,  daddy was trying to help, he thought the tooth fairy might be a little busy and so he wanted to be like Dwayne the Rock Johnson in the Disney movie, Tooth Fairy.


To that he looked at us with great suspicion. He hesitantly took his tooth, eying us in disbelief as he left the kitchen to head up to his room. Dads, you gotta love them and give them their due respect cause they create the memories that last a lifetime.


I wonder if Mr. Sixfootplus was wearing a tutu? hmmmmm? I'll try to remember to ask.. It was in the daytime. ahahhahahahhaa, who knew?

Song Interpretation 1

Song Interpretation

Here we are again...some songs were not and aren't meant to be sung by those, especially those with good intentions who only end up murdering the lyrics and words in the process. This song a lovely and beautiful expression of love to those in the throws of romance. This song speaks to the heart the way no modern artist can express it; Journey's Open Arms, expresses words that fail the mouths of most. This song can touch places in our hearts that no other feeling but that of lust, I mean love can. I especially, LOVE the Boyz II Men version, even they couldn't stop me from the inevitable.

I remember when I was dating Mr. Sixfootplus, when he lived in a distant country and far, far away land more than 1200 miles away...Canada, heartache pains me as I type and recall our once long distance from each other. I, an in love helpless romantic, lost in the suburbs of DC area longed to say lovely things to him that only this song could. I would get sick just thinking of combining words to paint the picture that my heart was feeling but before I could I had to make sure I had a booom box that had both a record and playback button and a blank cassette tape. 

Laughing right now you are? well you-tube and texting did not exist between 92-96 and if it did? I didn't know about it cause I was too busy listening to the DJ or calling the radio station asking the DJ to play Journey's Open Arms by Mariah Carey. I couldn't go hang out with friends, go play basketball or even go to church... for fear of missing when the song would come on. 

I'd practice pushing the record button at the right time, test the  recording with my voice to make sure the tape and recorder was working just to make sure that I wouldn't miss a note. Finally, the DJ would come on to say coming up next, Journey's Open Arms.  After waiting through what seemed like an eternity of advertising, he'd  announce the song and instead of just letting the song play, he'd talk for at least 10 seconds into the song as it played, URGGGG!!!! DJ choke yourself I wanted to say but I couldn't cause I'd be heard on the tape, so I had to record the DJ words and song, so much for making it seemed like I didn't record it off the radio.

As the song played I would sign the words from within my soul, after I was done recording, you guessed it, yes, with the DJ cutting in before the song was completely finished I would play back and sing at the top of my voice. 

"So now I come to you with velvet arms, no need to hide,, believe what I say, so here I am with velvet arms hoping you'll see what your love means to me velvet arms."

Oh how I longed for Mr. Sixfootplus to hold me with velvet arms. Some nights as I drove from class the song would come on I'd pull up into the parking space in-front our home and I'd be sobbing, from being so in love with love and so in love with Mr. Sixfootplus who was so very far away and not close enough to hold me with velvet arms. Oh the heart brokenness of being in love. The sorrow of going home to feeling the ache of a distant love and not having not even a velvet pillow to hold on to. Tear drop! tear drop.

As I came to better understand the song and as love matured, I wanted to know more about the artists and what velvet arms was all about. I found out the artists were tight pants wearing, long haired talents with big vocals. I also wanted to know what velvet arms was all about so I bought a single (tape) with words, couldn't afford the CD. One had to pay a little extra to get the lyrics back then. 

You will not believe the shock I was faced with when I found out that "velvet arms" was not even a part of the song. I was STUNNED!!! to learn that all the days and months I sang, "velvet arms" around friends, in public, by myself, in the car, these words were nowhere to be found in the lyrics. Did I just buy a boot leg tape? why aren't the words included in the song? There must be a misprint. of all the bad copies to pick up I picked up one. In the place where velvet Arms should be were the words "Open Arms", what non-sense is this I thought! Slowly and hesitantly, I put my tape in the tape deck player of my car and waited until the part came on and I sang Open Arms instead of velvet arms and it seemed to make better sense. 

I was suddenly faced with the daunting question of, "what will happen to the need I've already created in my mind to be held by Mr. Sixfootplus velvet arms?" How would I be able to re-program my thoughts? Being held with or by Open Arms seemed so normal and regular and lacked the romance that velvet arms held.

To satisfy that need in my head, every now and then when I play the song that is now on my ipod, I sing velvet arms softly instead of Open Arms. 
All I can say is again we have another example of a love idea ruined by artists refusing to enunciate the words to their songs. I will NEVER, EVER erase the image imprinted in my mind of being held by Mr. Sixfootplus velvety arms!

Studio Project

In Home Studio

We've been working on an in-home studio for some time now. I have to tell you it has been a fun project. I can't say that about all the other projects we having going on right now. It appears that we are in the middle stages of several projects. Hopefully, they won't stay in the middle stage very long.


The idea of pushing to complete this project is so that it can be ready for the winter months when family outdoor shoots just isn't an option. Yes, I've passed up on some summer jobs in order to get this done. I've labeled the photos below to give you an idea of most of the items in studio. There are several props and a closet of goods that is out of view.


I will also post what I've learned throughout this process to help those of you desiring to take this step in creating an in-home studio. Notice, I DID NOT say build, because most times it is not necessary.


I'll share what I've learned plus, I will include a post on some of the best photography tools I use and have learned about that could be of a benefit and that is cost effective as well.

studio photo....

We are awaiting the arrival of our spiderlight and then VIOLA!!!!!!


oh one more thing, check out my little model assisting me in testing the light. Isn't she cute?

Let us know what you think.

Song Interpretation

OK, let me start this post by saying I LOVE MUSIC, all sorts of music, but I MUST tell you, I've been known to not get the lyrics/words right. Does that stop me from singing, of course NOT. My kids love to sing. They act like they know everything, about every song and they act like I'm so outdated that my groove and coolness was for like back in the day. Their only back in the day time frame equals, the 80s, what is wrong with these kids? They walk around throwing out names like, wakaflaka, not a real name in my opinion, JT, JB, Jay Jay, watever, who cares, like I'm so outdated, anyways. The other day, I wanted to show them a thing or two so I decided to sing Beyonce's Halo. Yes, HALO!!!


I got to the part where she sings, "everywhere I'm looking now, it's written all over your face, baby I  can see your halo, you know  hummm-(don't know the words in between) my saving grace." Then I belted, "I can see your HELLO, HELLO, HELLO, HELLO OH, OH, OH, just jamming like everything is ALL RIGHT! until my daughter, with a crossed look on her face, said with a hint of annoyance, MOMMY!!! she's saying HALO! and I was like I know....., I'm saying the same thing...... I can see your HELLO, HELLO!! she's like Mom, its HALO..... I asked do we have a communication problem here? being the over thinker that I am, I said to her, Beyonce's song, makes absolutely no sense; How in the world can she see my HELLO? my child walked away utterly frustrated and was probably questioning, why Lord, with her hands in the air, was she assigned the most uncool, unknowing, doesn't know she is embarrassing me mom? Hey, what can I say? other than, these singers need to sing A LOT more clearly, enunciate! OK? OK...... I know I didn't interpret the song, but I couldn't even get the chorus so we will try again later....and that's my first song interpretation entry.

You've Got Mail

A few days ago I was getting ready to sit at the computer when I looked out the window and noticed the mailman had arrived. How boring was my barefooted walk to the mailbox. In Wesley Village, in the Commonwealth of Dominica walking barefoot to get the mail would be a BIG NO! NO! as getting the mail was an event. The post office was the place to be on a Monday, Wednesday and Saturday afternoon. Mondays and Wednesdays were ok as they were weekdays so much effort didn't go into the event... getting mail on a Saturday? now that's was big!


If you weren't a post office going person then all this will be wasted on you, but if mail day especially Saturday mail day was your thing, I know you're saying BRING IT!!!! Saturdays were busy days, you had to wake up bright and early go to the river. I had a basin of four shirts, two skirts, about five panties and it would take me ALLLLLLLLLLLL day to wash dat. River was a big, big deal but that is another post.


Once I was done soaping up and washing my few items using lots of soap, yep! lots of soap cause I had to make sure I got a white soap ring around my calf area. That, I suppose was a sign of a true washer. If you didn't get the ring? then I'm guessing your clothes weren't washed clean. I'm just saying. I don't think there was a particular pattern or order for washing, maybe for other people, because I don't remember if you had to wash first then bathe or bathe and then wash, I didn't have a system, I did it all, wash one piece swim, swim... sometimes I forgot I came to wash, who knew 6 little pieces of clothes took at least 5 hours to wash.... who knew? 

Anyways.....I had to make sure I made it home before 2p or 4p? who knows, I didn't keep track of the time then, I had way too much going on. What I am saying is, I had to get back in time to go to the post office. It was something, an event I couldn't miss, in my mind it was equal to missing the rapture. A bit extreme but that's what it felt like. 


Remember I mentioned using lots of soap to get the ring around your leg? well once you're done washing you had to make sure to get that off your leg otherwise coconut husshy would be needed to shine the leg clean. But that is something in and of itself for another time. As you can tell, I am eager even as I type to take a mental trip back to a Saturday post office Day.


I recall it being a BIG deal. The appearance for day was a cross between Sunday best meet Friday night Jam session. If you had it? you wore it and flaunted it, if not then you just went with what you had.  I think it was a day that everyone took a bath or smelled like they did with guys and girls not being afraid to wear the same perfume/cologne. We'll leave that alone for now.


If you had heels, you wore heels although, I cannot figure out how the fashionistas didn't loose their heels walking Wesley's Road? Anyways, It was a place to catch up with school mates, exchange books like Blue Jeans, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, etc., etc.,.  It was a place where you caught a glimpse of that special someone, it was a place to pong a bef, (gossip) he say, she say, it was a place where hope lived, especially for those waiting to get the first or final letter to go to Barbados to get a visa to go to America. It was a place of complete happiness. It was my vacation spot. where I let it all hang out. It's where I played hopscotch, roundas, moral, skip, and stone Ma Dennis bomary tree even as she sat under it so those disagreble children wouldn't stone her tree, and that meant nothing to me.


It was where I played skip is wasting, skip for seenjay, hoop, hit and run, race, stone rodney mango tree, and called maggot a hag for her sibble sweet Shaddock. I was young then, today I apologize for all the bad things. It's the place where I used what little money I had to buy all miss tourist gooseberries. It was where I hated selling candies and other sweeties for my mother cause I would just put her tray down and by the time I came back it had less candy than I did money. It's where I would position myself right at the window after the mail arrived so that every letter coming out of the post office would pass through my hand before making its way to the one who yelled PASS IT!!!


It was my place of zen, peace, excitement, freedom and fun. I don't know about you but as I am coming back to this reality I can say one thing for sure, mail delivered daily to my mail box pales in comparison to  picking it up yourself in a tiny enclosed post office in Wesley on a hot sunny Saturday afternoon.

Please share any pics you may have of any of the post offices. It would be great to feature them on here.

Me?..... a Farmer's Wife?

As I sit here remembering some old school memories, I can't help but reflect on some of the games I played growing up. The first one that comes mind, is the Farmer in the Dell/Den/Ring. To those of you who sang Den then read Den, if you sang Dell, then read dell and so on. Yes? ok
 School at the Methodist Church began after hurricane David destroyed the Wesley Government School aka big school. Friday's were the best days, it was clean up day culminating in a big fire in the root of the mango tree and of course games.
The farmer in the dell/den/ring? who remembers it as the farmer in the ring? anyways that was always a fun game, especially if you really... wanted to play... and by really wanting to play, I mean, if the farmer was your cheek. If your cheek wasn't the farmer you still had to play cause it was a class activity. The fun began once the circle was made, farmer was chosen and the song began. This game wasn't just a game, it was a time for statements to be made. For example, if your cheek was the farmer, of course you would be chosen first and it was a time to signal to the haters to step off. Well not in those words but something like that. 
The statements were made based on how the farmer chose his family. hahahahaha! In order for the family to begin the farmer had to choose his wife and this is where happy, sad, and vexed feelings surfaced. The farmer tells everyone at least during the game who he wanted as his wife or who his wife/girlfriend at the moment will be/is by walking over to choose her. Usually, his wife's natural response was to pull her hand, cut/roll her eyes as if to say, "boy lemme go, wha you choosing me for your wife nor?" all the while enjoying the moment of being chosen first. 
If per chance, one wasn't chosen as the farmer's wife, thankfully there were other mentionable positions in the farmer's dell/den/ring/life to vy for. There's the nurse, the maid, the child, the cow and the dog. This brings us to the last and absolute worse position that one can be chosen as..the cheese..... I can still hear in my head and the cheese stands alone......what a sad place to be. 
Did any of you ever wanted to be chosen as the farmer's wife? I specifically recall a particular farmer who insisted on choosing me as his wife and I insisted on hiding behind the person next to me. Turns out, me and Mr. Farmer were very good friends and used to be during school, I just didn't want to be his wife. I had my eyes on another farmer who, sadly, NEVER chose me as his wife. Oh well, the lessons that these childhood games teach us. Looking back one can't help but wonder, how in the world were we allowed to play these games with such adult undertones? I guess it was a different time, when children were really innocent and carefree.

I Dressed Up Today

This happened to me a while back, I just remembered and wanted to share.
Mr. 6footer plus bought me this cute little outfit, not my style at all,  I'm all about the black and browns, no colors. He's been trying to get me to try new styles so he introduced a lavender, purply top with a tiny belt at the waist and some super curve accentuating slacks. I should post a pic but I don't have one, another time. I wore the cute number to work and immediately, I received compliment, after compliment ,after compliment. Hmmmmmm, I thought, Mr. 6foot plus must be on to something here.
Just as I was about to take the walk down the hall runway style a compliment... I think, stopped me dead in my tracks. I hadn't seen this particular co-worker in a while so after some brief hello's and where have you been and what not he said, "soooooooooooo...., I see that you decided to dress up today." Whoaaaaaa!!!! WHAT!!!!!???? What do you think I've been doing all the other days? :0


To Mr. 6foot plus I say, keep the surprise outfits coming. I guess a little color to the wardrobe is exactly what I needed to shake the drabness of black and browns, yes? yess! Say it with me along with  a bit of disgust under your breath, "you decided to dress up today".  the nerve!  phfffffffff!

Press The "X"

My Sixfooterplus and I have four amazing little people who sometimes CANNOT, comprehend some of the things we say especially when it's something from our youthful years in Dominica (DA). So they sometimes need it broken down, and it's during the breaking down part the fun begins. Our subject today was about a belle marché-pretty walk, that Mr. Sixfootplus participated in when he was just a five footer. Who knows, I don't know how old he was but his memory of the event would allow you to think it was only a few years ago, maybe two. Hahahahhaha. 


We have one precious girl and three amazing boys who I will NOT talk about right now because I will go on for days. He had his little girl hooked on his every word as he remembered all the things they did on the belle marché until he started talking about a têtê chien. I know, some of you are like WHAT? A têtê chein is a snake, a very big snake. Heck, lets just call it an ANACONDA, got the picture? He lost her right here. 


Apparently, during the marché-walk, someone stepped on a big spongy muscular rubbery thing.  He was so animated going over what was probably chaos, she freaked out. He started explaining that in Dominica when you see a snake, its followed by a huge announcement of SNAKE.  "What did you do?" she asked. "Run", he said, "whenever you hear snake, that is what you do, you run." That only allowed him to dig deeper into his memory bank and we began to share snake stories. 

I chimed in with my experience riding to Portsmouth on Mr. Geoff passenger bus about seeing a huge boa constrictor just after we passed the Woodfordhill River Bridge. Mr. Sixfooter now insisted that I say boa constrictor cause he had the child freaked out at this point. So I went on to say, I saw an ANACONDA just like the one in the movies. They both attacked me for saying Anaconda and accused me of exaggerating. I like to think of it, not as exaggerating but as painting word pictures, anyways.

The bus driver steered the bus and ran over the snake, then he put the bus in reverse to see if anything was there, nothing was, it did NOT die! I started to think it must've climbed into the tire hole or it was stuck on the underneath somewhere. Please people, I was around nine! so yes, I had an active imagination. I'm not nine anymore and I'm still accused of having an active imagination. hmmmmmm, Wats up with dat?

Before I knew it, Mr. Sixfoot was back in the heart of the story sharing one snake story after another, he went on to share  a snake story about the big corner near my grandparents home on Londonderry road and how he dislike walking that corner. That only prompted me to ask, walk? when did you walk that corner? oh! let me finish, was the response..I'll come back to that later...... then he said, he would speed up when he came to that corner. Naturally, I interrupted with, oh, so it's speed up now. Our daughter asked, why did you speed up? he said he'd press the gas to go around the corner fast. I said are you sure you pressed the gas and not the X?  he fell out laughing. What do you know about pressing the "X"? That only allowed me to open my extra large brown eyes in great astonishment in his direction and without using words; I asked with my eyes, What do you mean, what do I know about pressing the X? Don't forget to imagine me with my lips pressed tightly together and pulled back with my head cocked to the side. Got it? hahahhahahhah


Our poor daughter lost in the confusion ask, what is the X? I proudly expressed that it meant, pressing the gas, to go faster and Mr. sixfooter said it's the accelerator. I explained the roads didn't always give a smooth ride due to all the holes. I told her there was one piece of road, a straightaway along the backwall, close to the airport that was smooth, people would ask the driver to press the X to enjoy the ride.  I must've taken too long with my explanation because my hubby wanted to finished his belle marché story. He went on to explain spots known to have big snakes, black snakes and snakes that chased you. I never experience the chasing snakes but I did have an Abolow, a ground lizard chase me after I hit it with a tent iron. 

As I listened to Mr. Sixfootplus recall the stories of his childhood,  I felt a tad bit of sadness that our children did not experience the same freedoms and innocence of our upbringing. We do our best to have them share in the experience but it's not the same. Oh the sweet, sweet years of growing up in the hole and off of Londonderry Road.

A Fantastic Song

To completely absorb this song, I suggest you listen at least two, ok, maybe three times to grasp the idea of complete surrender.
I don't know much about William McDowell the artist who sings this song. All I know is that he sings this song with such passion that I feel compelled to look him up. I will share some follow up info.
In the mean time, listen and if you want purchase this song.
Take a listen via you tube
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-91kGdTumXg&feature=fvst

Favorite Movie Ever

It is raining and it's the PERFECT day for my favorite movie. When the Robin gang, that's what we call ourselves, sit down to take in a movie you can best believe I, we will start with one of my favorites. Well not start but eventually, when my turn comes after i've watched Nemo like six times, the Incredibles and maybe some spongebob, Who is in charge here? we feast on some lamdas bread and watch Gandalf the grey become the white and much more throughout these three wicked awesome movies Yep! 

I can tell you right of the bat, my kids dread when it's my turn. They surrender the télé with great LACK of excitement as they shrug their shoulders and mutter under their breaths, here you gooooooo…..handing me not one but ALL THREE, LORD OF THE RINGS movies. They usually come around, usually at the point where Gandalf comes to the Shire. hahahahahhahah. 

These movies are awesome that I had to read the books, so I went to the library and rented, Lord of the Rings-audio. Yep! sure did. I read, listened to all three books in about three days, Cause das how I roll main! YES!, I meant to say “main” to give you an idea exactly how and with the accent, I SAID IT!!!!!!!


Just so you know, I will take every opportunity I get to reference this movie. So if you’ve never seen it before run, don’t walk to your nearest, colored box  and rent not one but all three, to prepare you for the references. yes? yes!

Let’s take a seat on the couch in the family room on this rainy Saturday, or it could be a sun shiny day where you are, it doesn’t matter,  to take in the ever hesitant leader, Stryder, handsomeman Aragorn, as we urge him on quietly to step into his role as King?
Check it out
http://www.lordoftherings.net/