I emerged in-between two wars and during a decade changeover. Not only that, I was inhabiting a British Colony between the Tropic of Cancer and the Tropic of Capricorn. I became a cocoa drinker betwixt the world’s coffee-realms. Little did I know what was afoot on this third rock spinning along with its satellite, orbiting a nuclear gas giant with other captured masses caught unaware in a then unknown corner of a galaxy of a vast Universe. 


I had no choice in this emergence, as far as I know, but did come to learn from written and words spoken I might have had a choice. Surmising the situation, I was a hapless and wandering spirit sequestered onto this dominion discovering a madness unfolding able to survive in this plane of existence.


The families into which I was aligned, were not one with advantages of station and/or wealth, but one resulting from generations of cultural cross-pollination and a pioneering spirit. A strain of inadequacies accompanied this genealogical fruit flavouring the path I was to tread unravelling complexities along my way.     





1a. Gated Guest c.'53





‘It was the best of times’ being a healthy adolescent, and ‘It was also the worst of times’ being that healthy adolescent. After a lengthy separation from our primary caregiver we faced a reunion for which little preparation was made. Not that any could be given ongoing circumstances, which would have the comprehensive effectiveness of water off a duck’s back. How my younger sibling was processing what we experienced I was similarly unconscious and unaware while I entered adolescence.


An incident imprinted onto my consciousness, during my initial encounter within the school system and remained with me into this 21st century. 


Have you ever been engrossed in a poetry reading in a text that seduced you by its easy syntactical refrain that concluded unexpectedly leaving you traumatized? I had such a transitioning experience reading the poem, “Richard Corey”. Shocked and amazed, and preceding without its deconstruction by the presiding teacher, I was to carry and process that traumatic influence into adulthood on my own.


As with many adolescents, I could be counted among those displaced from their original and national surroundings under varying conditions exacerbated noted as ‘prior’ conditions. These conditions coalesced into an internalized desire for a safe haven which the outside world judged as aloofness bordering on arrogance.


Time passed, I survived those growth experiences levied by Life’s Circumstances that conditioned. According to what I deemed The Universal Construct, my mind began questioning my place in this existence asking what It was all about? What grew within gave way to a deluge of words. In what was my 18th year, I began to awaken at 3:00am putting pen to paper in a prose format. After an accumulation of these writings, I ventured to inquire of their import from my Gr. 12 high school English Teacher. As Fortune would have it, my pages of prose/poetry resonated with my contemporaries and their class project turned my writings into a Book of Poems!


It appeared looking internally allowed me to process my angst through eloquent words. Words which forced me to contemplate alternatives to musings on, “Do I remain here, or do I opt out into another plane of existence?”


It was an excruciating phase but creativity was driving me during those 3:00am sessions! Apparently, my early extensive religious exposure added accent and support to the content of these poems. However, what aggravated my mindset were concerns of those I would leave behind carrying the burden of pain if that departure option was chosen. My immediate family had just reunited. We were undergoing adjustments and my input, such as it appeared, required my presence where I felt obligated and responsible to be present.


This Mortal Coil did not seem like much, having no endearing or redeeming qualities to my liking. But, I did have that aching feeling that disallowed me the choice to shifting my life from this existence into The Unknown Abyss foisting unbearable pain on those remaining.


I decided on struggling, on shouldering what was to come moment by moment. 


Interestingly, after six decades the struggling continues with a decided difference. Added to the option to transition out by choice is Transition by Design, through whatever options Change/Fate affords. I know not from whence I came, nor to where I’ll be going; but, what keeps me here is still a factor in being here.  


Choice  ~  Action  ~ Derivation    Causality





2b. Setling In c.'65




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? 






P ~ S ~ I … 2.


Police   Services   Interactions   …   2.        

         ~Newcomer’s  Orientation~


The year, 1962; I emigrated from the Caribbean into a mixed-culture and, being of mixed-heritage, I did not give this pre-dominantly Caucasian society a second thought. 


I was in the early stage of orientation, when my mother asked me to meet with her not realizing my directional ignorance. On the transit, streetcar, I engaged in conversation with a stranger and was unaware I had missed my stop. Undaunted, I remained on the streetcar enjoying the view of the city passing before my eyes. I was beginning the process of making it my home. 


Unaware of my location, and thinking I had further to walk, the streetcar arrived at end of the line, and continued walking in the direction it was headed. It hadn’t gotten cold, but it grew dark rather quickly being early October, I believe. It was another new experience, for this Caribbean youth wandering about as I usually did in this unknown neighbourhood. As was my usual manner in earlier times on my island home, I wandered about until I felt I required assistance getting back to my new residence, and my mother with whom I had not met. 


I reverted to a customary behaviour pattern, waving at an approaching yellow police car. It slowed as it came near, then came to a stopped. I engaged in easy conversation, although I forgot what transpired. I found my self seated in front on the passenger side of the cruiser as a result of our conversation. The officer and I continued cordially, with this young newcomer with a thick accent. I was unaware Of my accent, but I was familiar with police officers; although, he was unaware, I now ascertain. 


It wasn’t long before our conversation took an unexpected turn, when this officer casually broached the subject and inquired if I was ‘running away from home’?


To this, I was dumbfounded and speechless. I pondered the question internally. I asked myself the question, “Who runs away from ‘home’?” Also, this police officer was unaware of the drama/trauma of emigrating into this culture. All I could do was attempt to assure him ‘I was not running away from home’! After all, it was my thinking, this was to be the first home living with my sister and mother after five years absence!


We arrived at the Police Station, information was exchanged and in a short time I was reunited with my mother once again. While we were heading home, I retold the entire tale to my mother, and I concluded with the question, “How could the officer ask me if I was ‘running away form home’? I mean, who ‘runs away from home?”    




c. 1962

Turning Point~  c.1962

P  –  S  –  I                                                1.


You may or may not be aware of the saying, “You don’t choose your family”, even if orphaned. I came to comprehend this reminiscing on my early childhood, the unfamiliar becoming familiar.  Much had occurred round about me without ever receiving direction into any kind of vocation, private or public service. Aspiring to what appeared an emerging tradition as my father, uncles and an aunt may have been possible. Exploring one of the varying aspects of the police department.


Nonetheless, upon emigrating to another country, I briefly considered becoming a police officer. Joining this country’s police force, would have made it a family tradition. But I learned carrying a firearm was policy, while my country of origin only the military carried firearms. Not only was it an unfamiliar concept, but also an uncomfortable feeling having such a practice. This new construct of carrying a gun, inspired me to explore other vocations, setting me on a path unfamiliar to all my predecessors. 


Words of encouragement, not fully thought out, led me into random experiences as I began my adolescent phase. Orienting myself to this country which differed from my birth country, I encountered many situations allowing me opportunities to learn the dynamics of this environment, as ‘Time went bye’. 


These following stories will illustrate experiences that enabled me to comprehend the attitudes and attributes of those biased towards my ethnicity. Although, I was unaware of the untoward ahead of me along this path, a minefield fraught with the intermingling of ignorance and mindlessness, I was to benefit from what was revealed through those behaviours.


There is a Toronto Star newspaper article, dated 14th July 2017, reporting a case of mistaken identity. A police notice which stated, “be on the lookout for a bald, black male of 5’ 10”; unfortunately, a woman of 5’ 2” was arrested and viciously beaten by a police”. This news report opened a chest of dormant memories I shall reveal in the coming weeks for your amusement, edification and discourse. 


These are encounters occurring through the years, beginning in 1962, after emigrating from the Caribbean. There were no carry overs since our family construct experienced dynamic changes moving forward. Entries will detail content and context for your waiting mindsets. Enjoy …



18. Riding in BC '07



When I lay me down to sleep I oftentimes wonder in which time/space continuum I’ll awaken. Will it be the one in which I had lain myself down to sleep the night before, and will all be well save the happenstance on hold awaiting my dedicated continuance nuanced by random-spontaneity?                                             Oct./Nov. 2017


It’s late in the evening, after-midnight in fact, that time bed before sleep wraps me in her bosom. All is quiet, thoughts of death emerge in my consciousness as a wonder of wonders. Unlike Asimov, I do not contemplate, “Do robots dream?”; but, I do contemplate what I consider obvious, “Do all people grapple with this idea of the inevitable, the issues of death and dying?”                      January 2018


The more I experience creative works in the mediums of cinema / theatre / television, I lose my optimism for the future of humankind fuelled by a kind of realism and pragmatism.                                                                            January 2018


There’a only so much one can accomplish alone, and I’ve done so much. What is witnessed/experienced of me from here on out is but the result of strained effort. The type comparable/referred to in Shylock’s monologue in ‘The Merchant of Venice”, if you know of it!                                                February 2018




Melancholia 1



What’s it/this all about? Are we here/there yet?


Making plans the outcomes of which we’re truly unaware in spite of our best intentions. Well that’s how it’s usually been for me and I’ve learned to fly by the seat of my pants, going with the flow as the sayings go.


I step out my door, with the only intent being kitchen-style bridge with fellow seniors at the local community centre. Two hours later, I’m in the mood for a stroll and being hungry a favoured spot for a ‘kalbi’ taco.


Along the way, I stroll facing traffic, I happened upon a much more senior fellow crossing the street. The changing traffic signal isn’t programmed for the likes of him, an octogenarian with many more years added and those lined up in traffic are not amused. It was incumbent on me to give assistance, so I signalled with my hand and the streetcar and car alongside were decent enough, and allowed us to make our way to the sidewalk before going along their merry way.


We have never met, much less being aware of each other before literally crossing paths. He’s an ancient Asian and I, a senior multi-national Caribbean born.
I have seen the transition from propeller to jet-engine aircraft. I cannot imagine the transitions in technologies he’s experienced! But, that’s is the nature of things that I wish our language disparity and cultures could bridge, allowing us share how our journey has been along our way.


During my earlier years, after emigrating to this country, I have had the pleasure of many exchanges with strangers, quite often fellow immigrants, mostly eastern Europeans. They disclosed, while I learned and broadened my horizons, oddly enough lightening the load I unconsciously carried. I learned people the world over held a history whose content and context, not only held similarities but also beneficial contributions going forward in Life.


No need to compete, but listen and collaborate, and evolve into the human beings we’re meant to become. The way I’ve learn, anyway …




6. Growing Still

T R U S T 

We all have this intrinsic quality, never expecting but having to learn Its loss at some point during our living experience. Here is an example, outside my living experience, which I comprehend and empathize. It incorporates the ‘long game’ played out at the outset of Bo Jackson’s college career path. The tale exemplifies the goings on in the global arena, which plays each us according to our biases and gives rise to the ‘win/lose’ dichotomy that satisfies illusions/delusions of grandeur.


This dichotomy is supported by, if not supports, ‘Pride’ and Its ‘Sinful Siblings’.


The specifics of his tale involved an invitation deliberately misleading , costing him his desired draft-status in the sport he preferred. One institution desired he play in their preferred sport to greatly insure the probability of a championship. They deliberately misinformed him to his chagrin, the result angering him and drastically changing his future. Not unlike what has occurred in many who’re considered lost causes and failed potentials.


It is beyond the comprehension of many to believe that what they were told was only to tailor their decisions to benefit an insincere source. The decisions made were biased on given information predisposing them to be placed in a position to benefit a trusted source feigning their best interest, but in truth were biased on nothing but lies.


Out of the gate, into this Life, opting for Trust is a given one best not expect a safe and stable journey going forward.




Behind the Drywall

Making Do …





Can you recall a TV/movie quote which resonated, not for the masses but specific to you in that particular phase of Life you were experiencing? Below are a few I recently heard and referenced my previous Life, in a 20/20 perspective to reference, process and align accordingly, and learn from going forward. I have detailed, the best of my recollection, by whom and from where, to offer them for your acceptance, should you feel so inclined:

“Ambition is the last refuge of failure”- Oscar Wilde (Grissom / CSI)


“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, Love leaves a memory no one can steal” – Irish Headstone (Ducky / NCIS-S15/E2)


“Forgiveness starts with forgiving yourself”- Deacon (SWAT- S1/E8)


“God didn’t save your ass from drowning so S/he could kick you around on the beach”- Marjorie (Mom- S4/E2)


“It’s not the violence that sets men apart, it’s the distance they’re prepared to go. We control the fear, for without the fear we’re already dead”- Lawless (Tom Hardy)


“If you can’t fix what’s broken, you’ll go insane”- Mad Max (Tom Hardy)


“You see, but you do not observe”- Sherlock (S4/E1 – Benedict Cumberbach)


“In Saving my life, she conferred a value on it. It’s a currency I do not know how to spend”- Sherlock (S4/E2 – Benedict Cumberbach)


Sherlock, “It’s okay”.
Watson, “No, it’s not okay”.
Sherlock, “Yes, I know; but, it is what it is”.- (S4/E2)


Santino, “Tradition is the enemy of Progress”.
Winston, “And, here I was thinking it was the other way around”.
John Wick: Chapter 2 (Special Features- Deleted Scenes)


Now, if you allow yourself to be so bold as to assign any or all of these to specific areas of experience in your life, feel free to do so and go forward the better for it.



9c. Balcony Panorama '10



There was a time, while I was making the acquaintance and becoming short-term friends with a man seated just outside Future Bakery in The Annex circa 1992, a rather cryptic statement was made by the fellow named Mike. He and I were in conversation, and during our discourse he responded to a statement I made on what appeared his many options in acquiring a suitable mate. He statement was, as memory serves, “I just don’t have the juice.”


Upon hearing this, I was brought up short for an adequate response to those words. I attempted to get a clarification on the content and context of his statement, but he remained silent leaving his reply to Time ’n my impending experiences.


To what was his response pertaining? What was awaiting, that I was to face with prospects of either ‘avoiding fatalism’ or simply ‘managing expectations’? What was to come in my life experiences?


Repeatedly, over the ensuing years, that exchange kept resurfacing which was to culminate in feelings of emotional exhaustion 25yrs. Conditions from which I am now recovering in this future-present. Although, our specifics differ, it is now my turn to exclaim those same words at the behest of others encouraging me as I did him.


Curiously, at the time of our exchange, he appeared no more than 5yrs my senior, if that.


Our way forward was accorded to our especial transitional life conditions, which was of much concern to be fortuitously actualized according to the content of our pre-existing lives. Our heritage, cultural biases and social standings place us as Fated. So, we went our separate ways to become what we became, go/grow as Life affords, accordingly…


Looking back, I marvel at what/how Life was/is unfolding. What’s in your reservoir?



In The 'Hot Seat'!!?

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