a WALK  in  the PARK


Plans change, and it’s best to make the best of things going forward. This I can say occurs on levels beyond comprehension and efficacious beyond belief.


I was to depart in a few days on a trip to celebrate a monumental occasion, but the plans had gone sideways and I was faced with adapting to the changes adopting the premise, “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans”. On this occasion, the day before leaving to accommodate the change-in-plans, I elected to see a film as a way to adapt, as well as enjoy a Ramen bowl prior. Well, this intention had to be altered as Time grew short and I made a slight modification where the meal was concerned. To enjoy this modification, I had to venture through a few local parks to be on time for the film.


On strolling into the first park I happened upon, presumably, two-homeless men in discourse. Upon my approach I overheard one say, “I’d like to f@%k her”, to which the other replied, “No, you wouldn’t”. While passing, I heard the continuation of the discourse, “I’d like to f#@k him, instead” to which I gave little, if any indication I was privy to their conversation. My immediate thought was, “I still got it, even though I’m not batting for his desired team!” I exited the park with redundant thoughts playing through my mind, all about timing and opportunity predilection of these fellows.


I made my way through the next park, onto my modified meal plan and to enjoy my film-of-choice. Needless to say, the park incident replayed in my memory-bank with the additional construct, “It wasn’t all about me, in spite of me being the only one there.” The line from ‘Taxi Driver” came to mind, “You talkin’ to me?” but I was not about to be sidetracked from my ultimate goal. That of adapting to a ‘change’ taking place in the bigger picture, on a stage too vast for current perceptions …











Upon much reflection before, during and after the airing of this presentation about his life, it became obvious the operating systems at play in unique yet disparaging minds of the American public. What appeared contrariness to one another, regardless of social standing was easily made clear/explained.


These observations came easily due to previous reflections, as this Elvis Presley biographical retelling laid out the fear and loathing in each person’s psyche. The mirror is covered to deliberately avoid what was unfolding fearing loss of power, the influencing of believed subordinates. In so doing short-comings have gone unattended, thereby short-changing society as a whole all the while believing there is progress.


Coming to terms with Elvis’ story, in concert with that of Sydney Poitier and Frank Sinatra who enjoyed longevity denied him, I was able to discern an undercurrent both he and I were unable to navigate successfully as Poitier and Sinatra. Not that their flow was a walk in the park, but there was a succumbing to self-imposed pressures through a fear unknown to our understanding likewise to meaning others. There were those who did well for us, but who did much better for themselves while hamstringing our ability to fly. We felt it, but we just could not see our way clear to believe enough in ourselves, because we saw and knew our limitations. 


Limitations imprinted early in Life and taken advantage of by skilful others determined to subvert while making work available. Just work enough to satisfy externals, which eventually drained desire and creativity leaving us hollow, slowly dimming our spark in order to leave us manic-depressives. The 3.5hrs spent on this documentary revealed more than I expected, because I comprehended the cause to the effects playing out in the global arena. Beliefs that do harm to others in the guise of success was revealed in these two-episodes, alongside my previous reflections which sought to understand the wherefore and ‘why’ of the increasing disconnections.


I see them now, but am the sadder for it. Somewhere, a long time ago in the late 60s, I came across a statement: “Wisdom does not bring happiness, but sorrow to one who strives and achieves it.” I may not be wise, for what I have come to comprehend does not make me happy. It induces a sad knowing, by which I can only carry on…  




joanne scheinin:elvis presley 08.1.19

Tales  of  O W N E R S H I P   …    …        1.



More than ‘once upon a time’ occurred incidents, which prompted the making of decisions not fully thought out. Decisions incurred out of desire simulating need amidst conditions more than want. I for one was less aware about the overall scheme of things ongoing to know the difference.


Living conditions required I learn how to drive, and my mother became my initial teacher, by default. Before the Driving Test, whereby I would be legally allowed to drive, I took one-lesson from a reputable Driving School. There I learned things of which my mother hadn’t taught me. Thereafter, I acquired my License and thus began the path-of-owning that I would not fully grasp until much later in Life.


Before my ownership development I was to experience driving for purpose using my mother’s vehicles, a Ford Falcon and Plymouth Fury III, during the late 60s through the early 70s. After experiencing numerous jobs and saving portions of my wages, I acquired a ’72 Ford Cortina runabout, c.1977. Thereafter, I owned a Volvo 144D, c. 1979, which was to last me a few years until I crossed paths with an auto of my fantasy a ‘72 Volvo P1800E. I saw it in a friend/employer’s auto shop where I was a mechanic’s assistant.


I was so caught up in this fantasy, nurtured by a favourite televised adventurer’s image, I let go my Volvo 144D and set about my first bank-loan purchase! The fantasy became a reality and I was soon driving my Volvo P1800E, quite satisfied with myself. I was engaged in full-time employment and able to make payments until full ownership was established. During that process towards ownership I still had not the slightest realization of the accompanying obligations.


Of course, when one has an inadequate foundation in the responsibility of owning, one will be forever coming into the knowledge of ownership through a series of ‘learn as you grow’ experiences, until all the connections are made and comprehension is instilled.


Such was the process of my learning as I grew. 


I now realize the lessons to be learned about owning begins in childhood, which is often overlooked by primary caregivers. Not to appear harsh and a task-master, but the losses and waste I experienced might have been easily bypassed had I known that there were intrinsic and attendant obligations to owning. If you have to ask to what I refer, then you are still in the process of discovering ownership’s particulars. Maybe you do know; and, like me, you are so far into ownership that being owned has become a process of just staying alive.


Unfortunately, or fortunately, I’m still debating which with myself. This auto ownership was only an early phase of lessons in ownership. What was to follow, as Life appears to do, was a more labour-intensive and onerous experience in the realm of ownership! There are perks, but only sufficient to present the illusion of comfort made easier if another shares in the experience. It does become much more laborious than one is prepared for, yet to live one bears down and rises to the occasions presented from one’s desires.


Parents may have an inkling of what I speak.





P1800E on Gerrard E




When someone likes the look of you and you like the look of her/him, what is it that appeals to your sense ‘n sensibilities as relayed to your mindset? Do you fret as to whether or not it’s the ‘real’ you being perceived? Do you consider the actuality of your perceptions before choosing to engage with the personality in front of you, or do you simple move on your conditioned reflexes believing your perceptions?


According to experience nothing is certain, even it perceptions are accurate since nearly half of engagements are reported to disengage down the road.


Do you think you know the ‘real’ of anything/anyone going about the day-to-day world of affairs as the world appears to have lost Its bearings on all Its levels of comprehension? The physical ‘about’ a person is easily perceived through many of the available physical senses, but they may be interfered with by today’s realms influenced through technology. Especially, if one’s gestation period is interfered with, not to mention early and formative years into adulthood! Mush is assumed in spite of the inculcation of cultural and ethnic similarities, and the familiarities throughout one’s growing experiences.


It appears to me, much of what ails us lies not only in the unconscious, but also in the subconscious of which many prefer not to know much less become aware exists. What do you say? 






B U L L Y     4    Y O U



Once upon a time in a country not too far away lived a young fellow who trusted those round about him. As Life would have it, his living conditions were complex outside of conscious awareness as he went from day to day. On his island country of origin he was unaware of how bullying occurred since it was not a part of his small world, not even during his junior school years. He was insulated from the female/male dynamics which pressured his primary caregiver, and influenced the lives of their family unit of three.


Time would be his Master, as with everyone else, and would facilitate emigrating to a long overseas. He was to discover that Life was to unfold in ways beyond his imagining. 


He was registered in a public school to continue with educating his mind and spirit accordingly. Unknown to him was the fact that his earlier schooling was beyond where he was placed by his new country’s standards. Still, he engaged in the process because there were other attendant issues. A reunification and many social issues requiring orientation, not to mention financial aspects to which he was to learn matters more than he cared to know.


He completed his initial school year, graduating into secondary school where he was to experience conflicts and confrontations of origins outside his mindset. 


Waiting outside a classroom one afternoon, he was set upon by a number of students and he reacted by trying to fend off what was an assault in progress. Immediately, larger and more responsible students interceded in his defence. All were of ethnic origins different from his but similar to their kind. What ensued was the instruction to leave me be and no longer interfere with my comings and goings. It appeared I had acquired unsolicited guardians for unknown reasons! I can only surmise it was due to my quiet and gentle nature as I engaged openly with all.


Unlike what I see in news items on this 21st century, where students set upon those deemed foreign and worthy of physical and mental abuse while onlookers videotape or remain silent. What has changed I can only imagine, and would make no difference in me only knowing and understanding.


Of course, I was able to evade the high-school bullying but not the ones that awaited as I proceeded into adulthood. Suffice to say, I was able to make the better of a troubling situation going forward through the unaware/unexpected assistance of varying troubled mindsets learning things are never as they seem, even me.  





Sunday Best c.'62

KNOWING  –  the  –  NOW



Observers know little to nothing of what is ongoing, especially the decision-makers because no one discloses up-to-date information.

It is undeniable, Life results in Death; Death results in Life. 

I dare you to consider the preceding two sentences amidst all that’s transpiring during waking hours and not lose any sleep on the matter. 

I have, and still I find no comfort contained therein; subsequently, I resume my journey ageing out going forward. 




Connected Disconnect

DIM SUM      EXCHANGE               c.90s



Some time ago I shared a table in what was then my go0to dim sum restaurant. I had been there, awaiting my order, when the waiter placed another nearby at the same table. We greeted one another, as civil people do, and she went about her business choosing her selections. As is my custom, I set about making a sauce concoction for what was to come in my order. 


My table partner identified herself as a member of the First Nations People and I Jamaican born. She remarked upon observing my mixture as being a powerfully looking sauce. I was uncertain as to her meaning, then she said it was of a strong-looking taste. I had never thought of it as such and simply said, “Oh, I guess it is” and added, “I find it complements the selections I’d chosen.” 


Our dim sum selections were then placed before us and we began eating. We continued our conversing while we ate.


One of our conversations included the usual, “What do you do?” I regaled her with the litany of activities both vocational and personal. She listened patiently, and as I concluded my list there was a slight pause. She looked straight at me and asked, “Who supports you?”


I went silent, looking down into my plate of food. I had never considered this aspect anywhere in my doings. Where did my support reside, whom do I assign this claim? I reflexively replied, ‘Divine Guidance’, a faith-biased thought at the time. 


It has been decades since our chance sharing and I still have that as my only answer to her question, all happenings considered; the world revealing its meaner aspects as Time goes Bye. 










An interesting premise albeit somewhat macabre regarding the following…


By design she fostered the Domino effect by choosing it as her stage name. Then, by taking her life from this existence on October 31st, she was followed the day after by my ward. Attrition took part in the domino effect by the sending off a friend’s mother and the world famous, Stan Lee. 


There it was only Monday.


What followed those preceding actuations was a discussion, the outcome of which brought to bear the notion that holding onto the belief of one’s “Individuality” induces simultaneous connections and disconnections facilitating ‘crazy-making’ birthing ‘insanities’. 










Once upon a time on a tropical isle lived Little Donnie. He was neither precocious nor timid was he timid, although many thought he was either depending on their personal experiences. What they all did not know was that he lived in the world of imagination where everyone ventured from time to time. 


On one occasion, when no one was around he indulged in a favoured pastime. He would make up games to play when by his lonesome, and this was just such an occasion. His mother was upstairs working on her seamstress pastime, his little sister by her side and he alone outside. Where they were living was a two-story dwelling, as his memory serves, and to enter one had to climb five-steps to the landing where the doorway stood. Looking up at these steps he decided on a game to occupy his energies.


This game involved escalation in difficulty. He would climb one-step, then jump down and climb two-steps, and jump down. He than climbed three-steps and jumped down before climbing four-steps, only to jump down four-steps. On his climbing up five-steps he slipped plunging face first onto the concrete steps and slamming his chin, splitting it open. Fortunately, he tightened his jaw and didn’t smash any teeth on this occasion. On splitting his chin open blood came forth as the pain began to register amidst his amazement.


Pinching the skin of his split chin, and crying, he went up the stairs to the second floor where his mother was at her sewing machine. He approached to show her, clinging to his chin explaining what had occurred amidst his sobbing. His mother calmly removed his hand to get a clearer look and returned his fingers to their position telling him to keep pressure on the wound, while she made preparations to attend to it.


First, she cleaned the wound telling him to wait while she threaded a needle. This needle she placed over an open candle flame, then wiped it clean of soot with cotton and rubbing-alcohol. The tool now sterilized, his mother told him to let go of the wound and proceeded to do her repairs. 


Holding his chin between her fingers she began sewing his chin with her needle and thread, Little Donnie continuing to sob throughout the proceedings. Nearing the end of her sewing, Little Donnie ceased crying immersed in the sensation of how the sewing of his chin felt. Before he knew it, his mother had finished with her sewing, cleaned around the wound and applied a Band-Aid. Looking over her handiwork, Little Donnie’s mother affirmed his wound now mended and bud him return to his alone time play while she return to work.


Hugs exchanged, his mother returned to her sewing and Little Donnie return to the outdoors and returned to the game. This time, he made certain to ascend the five-steps in sequence as before, but without the previous undue incident. This he repeated ascertaining his confidence so as not to give in to uncertainty that would damage his assuredness in his developing skillset. Little did Little Donnie realize how this was to play-out in the years ahead for his little family unit of three.


Another story in his continuing saga …










It’s been some time since beginning my journey in this martial arts style, and surprisingly acquired accolades I had not thought possible. These gains came with a price tag, also unexpectedly and without counsel or guidance.


In the process of going along I was swept into an environment where what I could do had benefits in recognition and financial acquisition. I was excluded from the early phases of the latter acquiring financial extras only through the winning of competitions, of which there were few. I did experience travel which I had never considered possible, although fighting was expected in the offing. One such travel experience was to my birth-country to face a Texan in full-contact combat, and briefly reunite with my father,  a Superintendent of Police in the Jamaican Constabulary.


While there we, the fighters, were introduced and processed through numerous press and radio interviews. Never having had lobster I took this opportunity to have a meal of one unaware of its preparation, which has unsettling side-effects. The morning before the fight I came down with cramps and what appeared food poisoning. Nothing I took seemed to avert, subvert the symptoms I experienced. To the rescue came my father who provided an island concoction to drink. It did lessen the pain so that I could stand and move about, so the fight proceeded.


Much was riding on the continuation of this multi-national battle of which I had not fully considered, since I was in the end stage of studies in Teachers College. The competition concluded in my favour, my fellow combatant submitting in the second round. We embraced, having learned much about each other prior to and during our combat, and we went to our respective corners after the usual hail to the winner.


I showered and dressed to attend the festivities that followed, and stepped out into the night air to release what tension remained in my body. Surprisingly, I was joined by me father and we exchanged greetings a fifth time. Before we departed from the night air he said, “You are being exploited.” The resonance of those words pierced through me making sense of what occurred in earlier years.


I was in a state of bewilderment the remainder of that evening.


I had not much time to fully process what had occurred the night before because I received a phone call to return to Canada immediately, if I wished to attend a job interview to which I applied. A job interview which was a culmination of years of education, with timely advice from friendly associations. Cutting short intentions to capitalize on this combat excursion, I was airborne answering a call to resume the aforementioned path. 


Yet another intriguing revelation on a lengthy and unexpected journey.





11. Victor&Don James c.'74

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