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Small Steps, Big Differences
Last week I was lying in bed thinking about wanting to get more involved with the younger generation. I wanted an opportunity to engage with them more and to share any knowledge or experiences I have that could possibly impact them, if even in a small way. The very next morning I received a text inviting me to do mock interviews with eleventh grade students at Westwood High. Talk about manifesting! (No, I’m actually not an old girl of Westwood. I attended Immaculate)
Fast forward to today. While walking through the school there was hushed chatter…”I like her hair”, “She’s pretty”, ” She looks like such and such”. I pretended I couldn’t hear any of it and chuckled to myself. Listen to them with all these praises while all I’m thinking is that I hope I don’t fail them (or myself). I had prayed that I would be able to connect with the girls and have valuable input to offer them.
Being at Westwood felt a little surreal. These young ladies are so disciplined and well-mannered that it leaves you a little dazed. I was very impressed. So let’s talk about the interviews now…The girls came dressed in business attire, and I gave them feedback on their portfolios and pointers on how they could improve their answers to the questions I asked. I was also able to offer some guidance on their career paths. For most, this was the first interview they were experiencing, and I’m grateful I had a chance to help prepare them for when they find themselves in an actual interview. Even if I had tough critique I was careful not to be rough in delivering it. “Miss, will persons in the interview always be this nice?” one student asked. “Deeeefinitely not” I answered. “Sometimes they’ll be like this”…and I proceeded to give her my best Miranda Priestly (Devil Wears Prada). If you know me well, you know my imitations are ON POINT so just imagine 😂
While the students were memorable for some reason or the other, one stood out in particular, and I think she’s a big part of the reason I ended up there. It’s like I was meant to meet her. She was pleasant, reserved and unassuming, but something about her was engaging. She had a beautiful smile and a sparkle in her eyes, and there was something about her spirit. It was the kind you instantly feel drawn to. Something in her portfolio sparked my interest and I asked her to explain some more about what she had written. She was very open in sharing that she had been through a very dark period and suffered from severe depression, but she was now at a place where she was feeling more victorious in the battle. Just her sitting there and sharing her story showed great strength, and I was moved.
“Do I look like I have it together?” I asked her. She smiled shyly, nodded her head vigorously and said “Yes.” “I don’t always have it together” I told her. “Sometimes I look like this but I don’t have it together. Sometimes I’m a MESS, and there are times I’m really down, but I keep going and believing that there’s light at the end of the tunnel.” We spoke some more and I hope something connected and that she was able to take away something valuable from our exchange. I’m so happy I had the opportunity to meet her and all the other young ladies. There are some impressive and powerful ladies ready to take the world by storm.
Here’s to more positive manifestations, more meaningful exchanges and more small steps toward making big differences.
Find Your Bobbette
Just like most of you, I recently learned about Luton Shelton’s illness. Our star footballer has been battling Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) since 2016. As per http://www.als.ca, ‘ALS is a disease that gradually paralyzes people because the brain is no longer able to communicate with the muscles of the body that we are typically able to move at will. Over time, as the muscles of the body break down, someone living with ALS will lose the ability to walk, talk, eat, swallow, and eventually breathe.’
A young man in his prime (only 32 years old) facing this life threatening disease…let that sink in.
Proudly representing Jamaica
Credit: sleekjamaica.com
Since he went public with his illness, I’ve been seeing several posts on social media pertaining to him. Today it was one of his own posts that really made me stop and think, and it was because of the caption.
Taken from Luton’s Instagram page (@ls_21)
Luton and Bobbette have been together for over thirteen years, and are about to celebrate five years of marriage. When they met, he was a healthy man ready to take on the world. She could not have possibly foreseen what the future would hold – that the love of her life would be diagnosed with a neurodegenerative disease, that his speech would become almost unintelligible, that her husband, the legendary footballer would get to a point (very early on) where he would rely on her for his every need; taking her from not just his wife and mother of their three young children, to primary caregiver.
It made me think about how the choices we make now impact the rest of our lives; how important it is to ensure that we look for more than just a pretty/handsome face and a little spark in a partner. You need a fire, someone of substance; someone who will stand by your side on the field when the crowd has left the stadium. Do you have a ride or die, and if you do, do you appreciate him/her?
I’ve had my own ‘Bobbette’ at different points throughout my life and not acknowledged it. I have been fortunate to have a few good men cheering in the stands for me. They’ve had a sign with my name, they’ve been shouting the loudest…they were my number one fan…and I didn’t even stop to give them an autograph. Let’s be real – we have all had a ‘Bobbette’ and not appreciated him/her, and sometimes as a result of that, they’ve ended up walking out with the rest of the crowd. Luton looked in the stands and saw value in Bobbette, and today she is by his side, sitting on the bench with him and seeing him through his darkest hours.
This couple really got me thinking that you may be scoring goals now, but will you always be? When all is said and done, you want to know that the person you settle down with will have your back through the good and the bad, and literally through sickness and in health. You want him/her to see all your flaws (yeah we are all FAR from perfect) and accept them, to appreciate and love you for…YOU…no matter what challenges life throws your way.
At the end of the game will you be alone on the field or will you have your number one fan by your side?
Click here to watch an interview with Luton, his wife and father – Courtesy of The Gleaner
It really is with a heavy heart and tears in my eyes that I update this post to advise that Luton Shelton Jr lost his battle against ALS on January 22nd, 2021. His father, Luton Shelton Snr, passed away on May 16th, 2019. May both their souls rest in peace.
The Good Shepherd
Me looking for my shepherd like…
My friend and I were invited to church today. I really don’t go to church as often as I should and I didn’t want to disappoint the person who invited us, so to church we went! It actually was quite a good service. The pastor used the 23rd Psalm to kick off his sermon and then launched into the characteristics of a shepherd and sheep. Of course the shepherd in this context is the Lord and the sheep would be us humans. He said a shepherd is supposed to provide for you, protect you, love you, care for you when you are sick and so forth. Sounds like a good man, right? Lol. Tell me that crossed your mind too. Instantly my friend turned to me.
Friend: Shamieka…
*We exchanged knowing looks and laughed*
Pastor: Amen
Me and friend: AMEN!!!!! (in unison)
Yes, we need to get our acts together. There we are in church and totally twisting the lesson for our own (way off) interpretation lol but for real though, aren’t those some great qualities for a partner? I mean, we aren’t asking for too much, right? The Lord sees and knows that the struggle is real for us females. I’m knocking on 30’s door and I’m still in the wilderness looking out for a good shepherd. And trust me, I’ve been out there waaaaay longer than forty days and forty nights. Not to say persons haven’t crossed my path, but, hmm…
Perhaps in this case it’s the shepherd who’s lost and not the sheep (me), so if you happen to see my shepherd wandering around out there, please point him in my direction so we can head to the path of righteousness. Good shepherd, where art thou? BAAAAAAAA!
Not to worry, we paid attention to everything else in the service and took from it the meaning that we were supposed to. I think we’ll be making more frequent trips to church. 🙂
Life with Kitty Puss
I was recently adopted by a kitten. Yes, I was adopted by her. I don’t think I had much choice in the matter. I saw her outside once, fed her and since then she’s become a permanent addition. Now she presents herself for breakfast and dinner every day. Funnily enough my boss had been trying to convince me to get a cat. She even offered to go with me to get one but I was worried about it being lonely if I have to leave home for a bit so I didn’t pursue it. Well, I guess I now have a cat. I don’t keep her inside because I cringe at the thought of her jumping on my kitchen counter and having a ball prancing about up there. I also don’t particularly want her in my bed so she’s been forced to reside outside, but heck that’s where I found her anyway. It seems however that she stays quite close as once I open my door I see a flash of black racing towards me. I swear she stalks me. Oh, I didn’t tell you her name. It’s Kitty Puss. I’ve been a little off my game lately so I really haven’t been able to come up with a ‘real’ name for the poor kitten. Kitty Puss will just have to do; KP for short. I’m actually not even sure if KP is male or female but I’ve decided to refer to it as female lol.
Kitty Puss neeeever leaves me alone. I’ve had my fair share of cats as a child and by far this is the clingiest one I’ve ever come across. As I walk she runs all about my feet so I’m forced to walk like a drunk person in my effort to avoid stepping on her. KP is a very picky eater, and I don’t know how she and I are going to survive her ever changing food likes and dislikes. I started her off with sausage and she was fine with that. I ran out of sausage so I then started giving her chicken (from my dinner -_-). By the way, I cut up the chicken into bite size pieces for her. I know she can help herself and I’m going overboard but I can’t help myself. Okay, so I had no chicken for her one day so I was forced to give her tuna (yes, my good good tuna). She seemed to like it. I find myself having conversations with her like the poor kitten is capable of understanding me. This conversation went something like this:
“Do you realize you’re eating my tuna? You know you need a job right? Please go find a job.”
Fast forward to a few days later when I mixed her tuna with chicken. Would you believe that Ms. Thing ate the tuna and left the chicken? Getting refined taste and all? Clearly she took my advice and went and found a job. Over the weekend I realized I had nothing to feed her so I had to share my dinner with her.
“You know this is my good pasta right? You better eat every drop of it. Don’t let me see you leave anything back.”
Oh, she likes tuna again. Hmmm. Well, it seems she’s here to stay so I’m going to make a conscious effort to remember to stock up on tinned sausage for her (and yes I crush it for her).
She’s been trying to take me up on the getting a job thing though. Every morning she follows me to my car and jumps in as though she’s coming to work with me. She legit jumps right in…
“Get out! You’ve got to stop doing this. We have this conversation every morning. Why won’t you listen? Don’t let me tell you again!”
I also have conversations like this with her:
“Awww you ran past your food to come to me. It’s either your nose doesn’t work properly or this is love.”
It seems I’ve officially become the crazy cat lady. Thanks Kitty Puss -_-
Two Simple Words – My Daddy
I started this on Father’s Day but I decided not to publish it, mostly because I didn’t want to make anyone sad, particularly those who are close to me and can relate to this specific situation or those who have lost someone close to them. Today I’m in a funk for all sorts of reasons and I’ve been blank for a while now, not finding the spark to write anything (or to even really do anything for that matter). If you’re friends with me on Facebook that’s a shocker to hear, right? I always have so much to say and apparently people like it. It’s the reason I started a blog in the first place; the push of my Facebook friends. It surprised me to see comments from persons saying that they check my page just to see what I said that day, that I should write a book, make videos, blog…you name it. I’m glad I took the advice and started the blog because it’s been yet another channel for expression.
Well, here goes…
I’m sensing this is going to turn into an epistle and that I’m going to share even more than I usually would. Why? I don’t know. Why on social media? I don’t know that either. It’s Father’s Day but I can only celebrate the memory of mine, but it’s a great memory because he was a great Daddy. I lost my Daddy when I was 15 (almost 16) and I was as much a Daddy’s girl as I am a Mommy’s girl. Even though we know death awaits us all, we still never expect it, and I certainly didn’t expect it when he passed. Not then and not that way. We were talking and laughing…I think we were watching ‘The Good, The Bad and The Ugly’ and at the same time I was on my laptop. In the midst of our talking and laughing, he gasped and his head fell back. I screamed for my sister because I didn’t want to scare Mommy but of course my scream woke her and they both came running. He was unresponsive. We tried getting him to the car but he felt like lead, and we couldn’t move him. All that time I was trying to give him mouth to mouth resuscitation. I didn’t know how to so I really didn’t know what I was doing but I did it anyway, thinking I could help. Knowing now what I did not know then, if he was still alive at the time, I may have made matters worse being that I didn’t know the correct technique. During all this my sister ran outside into the street and screamed for help. My neighbours came running and assisted us to put Daddy into another neighbour’s vehicle (since it was bigger I guess. I don’t quite know).
We rushed him to the hospital and the whole time I continued ‘CPR.’ I expected a movie type ending where the doctors would rush out and use the paddles to shock and revive him. That’s really and truly what I expected. That’s not what happened though. A doctor did rush out, but she said, “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.” She didn’t get the right script. That’s not how it was supposed to go. Everyone went into the hospital but I stayed in the van. I remember rocking back and forth like a crazy person, talking to God, saying the same thing over and over. “How could you take my Daddy? How could you take my Daddy?” I’m not sure how long I was in there but my neighbour’s daughter remembered me and came and sat with me. What she said to me was very simple but I think it’s because of those simple words that I was able to handle it. She told me that my mother and sister need me and that I have to be strong for them. Jody Barnett, thank you. You couldn’t have been more right, and your words have stayed with me. She took me inside and I remember I sat by myself. I was already seeing what she meant. My sister was rolling on the carpet, the dirty hospital carpet, bawling. My mother was a mess too. I couldn’t bring myself to comfort them though. I was in a zone and wanted to just sit alone. At one point they sat on the chairs hugging each other and still I sat alone until I was called over. Truth is, I didn’t want to go. I needed space, to sit and process, but how could I say that I wanted to be alone? That would have been selfish, right? I went over and we all sat there hugging each other. Family members started coming and the police came too (to do a report). The doctor spoke with us. I guess it was procedure. I don’t remember much of that though. I do remember her giving my mother sedatives so that she would be able to sleep at nights. I don’t remember the ride home at all; not one bit. When I got home I called my friend Robyn and left a message on her cell (she was at her high school ball). I calmly told her that my Daddy had died but that I was okay. I then proceeded to clean the house. I mean really clean. Cleaned the bathrooms, changed sheets, all sorts of things. I don’t know if it was denial or just how I decided to handle it. Over the next few days my friends would come by (well Robyn moved in) and they would sit there crying for Uncle Calvin. He was very involved and had been our ‘chauffeur’ between home and school and dance class. While they cried I would get them tissue and console them. “Wait, what’s wrong with this picture?” they would ask. It’s like we reversed roles. I don’t remember a lot about his funeral because as terrible as this sounds, I was half asleep. Mommy had thought it would be a good idea to give me half a sedative to keep me calm during the funeral. So as emotional as the ordeal of the funeral was, I was fighting sleep at times. It’s bad enough that people saw that I barely cried in the days leading up to it and now there I was probably bucking. People must have wondered what kind of daughter I was. I definitely remember my performing arts group Little People and Teen Players Club. One of the songs they sang was “Three Little Birds” and To-Isis sang “So Hard to Say Goodbye.” They delivered these songs beautifully. I remember seeing little Asha crying her eyes out as she walked off the stage, and I forgot my own grief. I just wanted to hug her and tell her that it’s okay. Kareen, you gave me goosebumps when you came to the house the night before the funeral and gave us a taste of the song you would be singing solo on; “Nobody Told Me,” and best believe you gave me goosebumps all over again at the church. At the graveside you would not have known that I was the daughter of the person being buried because I was way off with my cousin and her mommy. I was pretty far away from it but Ms. Levy (head of my performing arts group) came and got me and led me right over and put me at the front. I guess she knew I needed to face it.
Perhaps my experience with losing my Daddy has made me process the things the way I do now. I don’t know. I seem to have said I don’t know quite a bit throughout writing this. I forgot to say that our family doctor said he probably died instantly. As awful as any kind of death is, that’s a comfort to know, and at least I don’t beat myself up thinking that my shoddy mouth to mouth resuscitation made things worse. By the way, all of this happened when I was preparing for CXC so it is by the grace of God that I did as well as I did – four 1’s and four 2’s. The biggest thing for me is that I passed Math lol. How I ended up with a 2 is a miracle in itself. I can’t begin to tell you how terrible I am at Math. I don’t even think my mother thought I would ever be able to tell time dwl. The only time I like numbers is when I’m counting money – from a child until now lol.
Jody, thank you again for something you don’t even know you did. Robyn, thank you…you already know. Anabela and Paloma, you may not have been in Jamaica at the time but your love and support traveled oceans. Kathy, yours did too. I remember your message letting me know that you were praying for us. Ramesh, I can’t remember a whole lot from the service but I do remember seeing you standing there with so much concern on your face, watching me as I left the church. Matthew, I can remember you playing ‘big cousin’ as you always do even though I’m the older one and holding me as I walked out. Candace, forever my partner in everything, it was you who I was with when I was off at a distance from the graveside. She too has had traumatic losses, one of which I was present for as she experienced it, and I replay that in my head at times, wishing that she never had to go through what she has, but she has been so strong. Keisha, you took food for us, because Lord knows preparing food was the last thing on our minds. Up to now, both you and Audrey still go and look for Daddy and wash off his gravestone whenever you visit your loved ones. Robert, there’s a thank you here for you too. Keisha, Audrey and Robert…all Air Jamaica family. I wasn’t a part of the Air Jamaica family yet. I didn’t join it till years later, but what a beautiful thing it was to see the sea of colours (the uniform) in the pews. All that support. My high school friends who came out; Chrystal, Shamay, Senna, Alison thank you. Auntie Joy and the rest of the family, thank you for not forgetting Daddy. Even in the midst of your grieving, you walked over with us to visit his grave (we were there for another funeral). If I didn’t name someone I should have, I’m sorry.
Out of the turmoil came the meeting of a whole new side of my family that I didn’t even know existed. Well, that’s actually a bit of a crazy story. I had a close friend at the time, Alison, and I used to be at her house all the time sleeping over. Her mother’s best friend lived in New York but would come and visit, and so being at the house as often as I was, I had met her. One day she told Auntie Cecile that she was coming for her cousin’s funeral. Auntie Cecile told her that she too had a friend’s funeral to attend. Believe it or not, it turned out that the friend and cousin was my Daddy. I had met this lady all this time before and not even known she was my cousin. If one good thing happened, it was meeting Debbie and as a result, all these other wonderful relatives. I am grateful for that, and if you know me well, you know that I love my family.
Even though I’ve experienced loss, I’m not good at finding the words to say to others who are grieving. If there’s anyone who lost someone and felt I didn’t say as much as you expected, I’m sorry. I just remember that with my Daddy sometimes my mind may not have been there in my grief right at that particular moment, and then someone would wish me condolences and there I was again, jolted back. I guess I’m concerned about doing that to people. A big thing too is that I didn’t really know how to respond to people when they wished me condolences. I didn’t ever want to seem sad and make them feel sad or worry. So now I don’t know how to express it because I’m wondering if they’re feeling that way when I’m speaking to them.
I’ve held it together pretty well I think, and the only times I really break are if I hear certain songs, particularly Luther Vandross’ ‘Dance With My Father.’ That song just kills me. Once I was in the back of my friend’s father’s car and it started playing. I wished and hoped and prayed that he would change the station but he didn’t realize. My lips just wouldn’t move to ask him to do it so I sat there, sucked it up and silently cried. I also get teary eyed when I watch fathers walk their daughters down the aisle because I know that I won’t have that moment.
Now we’re moving from funerals and sadness to weddings. After planning weddings for others, and really enjoying doing so, I can’t tell you what I would want for mine (if that elusive occasion ever comes my way that is). For real…all I can tell you is that I want a nice ring and a nice dress. The ring doesn’t need to be huge or expensive. I just want to like it. I mean, I’m going to be wearing it every day for the rest of my life. The dress…hmm…I don’t know what floats my boat there either, and this is coming from someone who has watched three million episodes of ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ and ‘Four Weddings.’ Once again, I just want it to look nice. It should be flattering. The one detail that I do have worked out in my head is how I’ll walk down the aisle. All the men who have been a big part of my life and/or my father’s will walk me down the aisle…each one will walk me a few steps down to the other. I guess I’m going to need a long aisle, huh 🙂 My godfather, my sister’s godfather Uncle Howie who was also my father’s very close friend, Uncle Wilfred and Uncle Eddie, who along with the rest of their families became family to mine. There’s also my cousin Matthew who actually wasn’t on my ‘aisle list’ until just now as I typed. I started thinking about how he’s questioned a male who was interested in me. Actually, interrogated may be the right word. He always needs to know what’s up with his big cousin lol. Of course there is my Uncle Bunny…Uncle Bunny has the last leg. He and Daddy shared so many conversations about all sorts of things. I can picture them now just chilling and talking. As old as my sister and I are, Uncle Bunny still worries about us driving and warns us about being careful about everything. He always has words of advice for us too. Always tells us how proud he is of us and everything we have achieved.
My Daddy is memorable for so many things. His love of music is one, which he passed on to me. Show me someone else my age who can sing and appreciate songs from the Temptations (love them), Delfonics, Five Heartbeats, Ben E. King, Sam Cooke, Nat King Cole and so many more. Daddy would put on LPs and I would stand on his feet and we would dance. He also had a love for cars, which I definitely did not get 
I hate having to deal with my car when there are issues. If I could have someone else do it, I would.
Every night when I was little he would read to me from ‘My Book of Bedtime Bible Stories.’ I still have it by the way. I loved to read, and to satisfy my appetite for reading, he would take me to Tom Redcam Library on Saturdays so that I could borrow books. I asked a ton of questions. Can you say curious? To help with that, he bought me a book called ‘Tell Me Why’ with answers to all sorts of questions lol. Still have that book too. He would check my homework every evening when I was in prep school and leave a note with corrections if there were any to be made. How many fathers are that attentive? Although shy, when it came to dancing I was a morning star (as we say here in Jamaica). Ask me to do any new dance move and I was up for it. He loved to see me dance and felt like I had a talent there so at 7 he took me to audition for a performing arts group. Wonder if he ever regretted that (just kidding) because from then and through high school it meant he was taking me to and from dance, voice and acting classes lol. My life became his and he would sit through hours of rehearsals. If I needed new leotards, ballet shoes, jazz shoes, tap shoes or so forth, if it wasn’t Mommy with me getting them, it was Daddy. Oh, and I did gymnastics too. He was already gone when it was time for me to learn how to drive, but I remember when my sister was learning and he would let her practice at every opportunity. I remember sitting in the car as she would drive to extra lessons and Daddy and I would sit and wait till she was finished. He was there however to teach me how to ride a bicycle. He and Mommy bought me one which I was only able to part with just a few years ago because a little boy asked for it. It was hard to give away but he needed it. I was no longer riding it and it was more so the fact that it was a gift from my parents why I still had it. The sentimental value was doubled because I spent many an afternoon riding up and down as Daddy watched me. I went from training wheels to being a pro rider 🙂 but never did he let me go out there unattended. Daddy was one to reward good work. My sister and I could get basically anything we wanted when we passed exams. My strong will comes from him. Well that’s from both my parents. I guess mine and Daddy’s is unexpected though. With my Mommy, you definitely see it coming that she is no pushover. With Daddy and I it is more undercover. You would think because we seem quiet that you can walk all over us, but no siree. We are forces to be reckoned with. I wanted for nothing, and can wholeheartedly say that I was fortunate to have one of the best fathers ever.
For the first time I didn’t re-read my post to check for errors and to ensure that it flowed or so forth so if anything seems out of whack, please bear with me. I just typed and published. I promise my next post won’t be this dreary 🙂 I guess this one just needed to be written, and perhaps you now have a little more insight and understand me somewhat better, if that’s even possible.
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A Vision to Succeed!
Shavane enjoying a photo opp with athlete extraordinaire, Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce
Credit: jamaica-gleaner.com
‘My glad bag buss’ (I am so excited) reading a newspaper article about Shavane Daley, and I know my Mommy’s will too. I met Shavane when I was a part of my high school’s outreach program (which Mommy used to chauffeur me to and from). I would visit Salvation Army’s School for the Blind and assist the students with their homework assignments. There were a few in particular that really grew on me, Shavane being one of them. He was always jovial and cracking jokes about one thing or the other. At the time, he was attending Jamaica College and I had the privilege of being his ‘writer’ for his Caribbean Examination Council (CXC) exams. A couple times he got frustrated, being uncertain of the answer, and would tell me to just choose one. I never gave in. Instead I would read it again and tell him to listen carefully. Can you say passed with flying colours? He did so well, and it was all him! All his hard work paid off. He went on to do a Bachelor of Science degree in psychology with a minor in entertainment and cultural enterprise management. He also completed a Master of Arts degree in cultural studies. He even excelled in cricket, and has gone overseas to represent Jamaica. He’s a real all-rounder.
I am guilty of having complained about not being able to find a job that I enjoy. Shavane has had to endure more than that. He could not find a job full stop due to his visual impairment, but he was set on finding a way around that.
I don’t keep in touch nearly as much as I should. That is perhaps one of my biggest flaws with everyone, not just Shavane. It always touches my heart that he calls to check in, gives me updates on what’s going on with him, and never ever forgets to tell me to ‘hail up Mommy’, ask how my sister is and even ask how the dogs are lol.
Good going Shavane. I’m so very proud of you!
Here’s the link to the article – http://jamaica-gleaner.com/article/news/20160829/visually-impaired-youth-completes-internship-jcdc
What Can WE Do?
Today I saw a little boy at a stoplight that I frequently pass. I know the regulars so I realized he’s new. It’s sad there are even any ‘regulars’ in the first place. I’ve been trying to stick to my resolution that I’m not going to be conned anymore by insincere and/or rude persons (you’d have to read my previous blog posts or have seen my Facebook posts to know the back story to that) and apart from that, my windshield is getting scratched by the windshield wipers and I really don’t need that. Anyway, the point of that diversion in my story is that I had made up my mind that I was going to tell him no. I did just that so he wiped off the little area he had sprayed and went on to the other cars. His little face melted me though. He wasn’t like the little boy I’ve posted about who was quite rude and tormented me each day.
I started blowing my horn for him to come back so I could give him something. The banana man got his attention for me. He came back and I handed him the money. He politely said, “Thank you miss.” Typical me started talking to him. Why I can’t let people go on their merry way, I don’t know. “I’ve never seen you out here before. Are you going to be out here now?” He hung his head and all he could offer as a response was, “Nothing miss.” I then asked, “Are you okay?” He said, “Yes, miss” and my heart melted even more looking at his face. He walked away but not before turning back to say yet again, “Thank you miss.”
I drove off and all I could think was, well suppose he had said he’s not okay. Then what? How could I have helped? The truth is, just the mere fact that this child is out at the stoplight is enough to tell me that he’s not okay. That brings me back to this – what else can I do to contribute? Heck, what can WE do? Yes, I’ve done and continue to do things, but is this drop in the ocean enough? What else can I do? How do I make a bigger impact and dare I go as far as hope to get these children off the street? There are many key issues arising here; the lack of employment, the need for family planning to be emphasized, resources for parents, among other things.
I did the Digicel 5K (great initiative) recently and in the midst of feeling pumped as I went along, I also felt sad. There were a few times that we passed homeless persons or children out on the street watching as all the excitement passed them by. I mean children you could clearly see were less fortunate. I saw one that didn’t even have on shoes. This walk took place in the night and some of them were standing there with no adult in sight. There we were walking to raise money and awareness for special needs, and here were other needs lining the street. So many areas need our help. Just this weekend I was driving downtown (yes I had someone with me this time so no getting lost) and saw a homeless man with one leg dragging himself across the street. Now I’ve seen many homeless persons, as I’m sure you have, but this hit me on another level. Can you imagine that this is how this poor man has to get around? Just dragging himself. Man…
There’s so much to be done and I commend those who have joined the good fight in whatever way they can. I’m straying a bit , but I guess my mind is on areas in general that lack so much and need assistance. Our hospitals are one such case. While recently they have been in the media extensively, the truth is that it is not news to us that some of them are in a deplorable state and it is not news that some lack essential equipment. We knew this. A particularly upsetting incident reminded us of these things, and has put it further in the spotlight, but as I said, we knew that these things were happening to some extent. We’re guilty of getting outraged about things then forgetting all about them.
Tremendous kudos to Shaggy for all he does for the Bustamante Children’s Hospital. He didn’t just turn the newspaper page or change the channel or send out a tweet with a great hashtag when he realized the problems the hospital faces. He took action. I used to volunteer there while I was in high school and I ended up stopping. It pained my heart to go and play with the kids and cheer them up for a brief moment, only to leave them lying there in their hospital beds. It’s something that I really, really should have seen through because those children look forward to the visits, but I wasn’t strong enough to continue. I chose instead to start volunteering at the Salvation Army’s School for the Blind.
I enjoyed assisting the students with their homework assignments and developed a good relationship with them. There is one in particular that I am so proud of. When he was studying for CXC he asked me for extra assistance so I picked him up and let him come to my house to go over notes. I was his ‘writer’ for the exam and I remember there were some times he would ask me what answer he should choose. I refused to give him any answers and instead encouraged him to listen carefully. I am beyond proud to say that he passed with distinctions. He went on to pursue his degree at UWI and get this, he even has his Masters now! After achieving so much, he now has a problem; there are barely any job opportunities for the visually impaired. Well, there are barely any opportunities for persons with disabilities full stop. I need to rephrase that even more. There are barely any opportunities even for persons who don’t have a disability. I’ve been privileged to be a part of this young man’s life and watch him work against the odds to accomplish all that he has, but how do I help him now? If anyone can assist me in answering this question, please let me know.
Today I was reminded that I need to find ways to do more. I need to find a way to take it to a higher level. I also need to encourage others to get more involved, and I’m happy I can use my blog to reach persons. I worry that my drop in the ocean is not enough, but if we all do what we can, our collective efforts can accomplish something.
I’d like to end by letting you all know that if you have items (in good condition) that you want to give away, you can take them to the Salvation Army’s headquarters on Waterloo Road. Just put the bag in the receptacle, and that’s it. As simple as that. Do what you can, volunteer where possible, make someone’s life a little easier. Let’s be a TEAM, because Together Everyone Achieves More.
Know When To Zip It
There’s that famous saying – ‘Honesty is the best policy.’ Is it always? I was in the supermarket the other day and a gentleman beside me was having a conversation with a lady I presumed to be his girlfriend. Anyway, as I was so close to them I heard him say, “There’s nothing wrong with giving a compliment. There’s nothing wrong with being honest.” Suddenly he directs the conversation to me. “Look at this lady right here (Umm this lady right here who’s minding her own business?). Miss, you look FANTASTIC! She does! There’s nothing wrong with telling her.” Can you say awkward? I felt awkward for me AND for her.
I said thank you and couldn’t help but laugh. Did he really just do that? And why did I have to be the one he used to make a point? Lol. I immediately looked at her to see if she was getting ready to take her earrings out and throw all one hundred pounds of me to the floor, but her face didn’t offer much expression. Actually he ended up striking up a conversation with me and she walked off (still in the vicinity). The man continued his point, saying he doesn’t see what’s wrong with being honest. I told him that can actually get you in trouble sometimes so you have to learn when it’s best to say nothing at all. Case in point, what he had just done. Not every situation calls for you to voice what you may be thinking. He then started telling me about a scenario with his co-workers where it really did turn out that it was perhaps best to withhold the truth. You’re probably wondering why I stood there entertaining a conversation with him being that his girlfriend may not have been amused. Well, I was trying to get the attention of the staff in the bakery. His girlfriend came back over and get this, he introduces her as his wife. The plot thickens! I gave her my warmest hello and sweetest smile and thankfully they got what they were waiting on and left. Never a dull day I tell you…
How Google Saved Me
You’ve experienced this before; you’ve misplaced something and had absolutely no idea where you put it This happened to me recently. What did I lose? My passport, of all things. I sent my friend a voice note about what happened and it amused her to the point she told me I had to share this in a vlog lol. I intended to do the vlog but somehow here I am writing instead of doing a video.
Back to me losing my passport. I was completing a form and it required that I include my passport number. Gone are the days I worked with an airline and tickets were so inexpensive that my passport number was imprinted in my memory. I was forced to get up and go look at the number. No problem, or so I thought. I went to the spot I keep my passport but alas, there was nothing there. I was quite alarmed because this is where it’s always been. I thought back to when I last saw it and remembered that I had done a transaction at the bank that required two forms of identification. I had taken my passport and driver’s license. I searched around a bit more and when I still couldn’t find it I came to the conclusion that perhaps the rep at the bank had forgotten to give it back to me. There was however the nagging feeling that it was right here at home with me. The memory of me being at home and seeing it in my handbag after coming from the bank came to me and I really wasn’t certain if it was just me being hopeful or if it was a reality.
Well, the next day I called the bank and spoke with the rep who confirmed my passport was not left there. Hmm did he look properly? Was it really still there or was it somewhere in my house? I tore my room apart looking for it and still nothing. I then had the bright idea to call the supermarket because I had gone there after the bank. Perhaps it fell out of my handbag when I had taken out my purse at the cashier. They checked their log book for lost and found items and nope, it wasn’t there. Of course I was feeling very distressed by then. I had expanded my search to the rest of the house and even looked in unlikely places and still couldn’t find it. Not even the kitchen, bathrooms and car were spared from ‘Operation Find Passport’.
I forgot to mention that something else popped into my mind; there were some workmen in my room and I thought there was the possibility I had taken my passport from its usual spot and put it elsewhere to ensure it would be safe. Don’t ask me what I thought they were going to do with it in the unlikely event they came across it. That was me being paranoid and dramatic.
My frustration started to get the best of me and there were times I just bawled. I was particularly overwhelmed because I didn’t know if my search was futile; was it even in my house or did it fall out somewhere while I was on the road? Also, how long before I should give up the search and just go ahead and start the process to reapply? I was afraid to go ahead with reapplying, pay and so forth, and then bam it appears (that would be just my luck).
I should have also told you that I lost my passport during the time that fees were increased so I was bombarded with people talking about passports. In my state of frustration and having no idea where mine was, that was the last thing I wanted to discuss. Every time I went on Facebook there was someone posting about it. Grrrr. I would drive by the Passport Immigration and Citizenship Agency (PICA) office some mornings and ughh I couldn’t miss the long line of people outside the building.
I decided to call PICA. Maybe someone had found it and turned it in! My glimmer of hope reappeared. Unfortunately PICA couldn’t even help me initially. They were very busy as their office was flooded with people. They told me that they could not spare any manpower to check the log and I was therefore told to call back the following week. I did so and surprise, surprise; it was not there.
Well, I kept praying that I would find it and my family and friends prayed for me too. After wishing, hoping and praying and not making any headway, what’s the next step? For me it was Google (bet you didn’t see that coming). More specifically, it was hypnosis; I Googled ‘How to hypnotize yourself to find something you’ve lost’. Yes, I sound crazy, but after being at it for 2 months I was desperate. I clicked the first video that came up. A man with a soothing voice started speaking and I began feeling a little scared. My thoughts were this – suppose this is something demonic and I end up possessed. That’s right, count on me to be dramatic. I put the thought to the back of my mind and continued to listen to the man. The basic gist of it was him speaking about relaxing and envisioning the misplaced item. You should have heard it. “You come to a staircase. Now walk down the stairs, taking deep breaths as you go down each step. At the bottom of the staircase is a book with the picture of the item you have misplaced.” Madness, right?
At the end of it I got out of bed (feeling very relaxed might I add) and for some reason I headed straight towards the linen closet. I opened the closet door and was about to start rummaging but decided against this. It was after midnight and the proximity of my mother’s room to the closet meant I would disturb her. I aborted my mission and decided to look in the closet the following day when I got home from work. I followed through with this and would you believe I found my passport in there?!!!! I was beyond excited. I jumped up and down, I hugged my mother, thanked God, did my happy dance. I was soooo happy. Gee I’m left to think that doing that hypnosis thing really worked. I think perhaps it relaxed me to the point that I accessed my subconscious thoughts. Who knows…I just know that Google saved me 😀
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