THAT DAY WAS CHRISTMAS

 

When is it Christmas? How do you know when it is Christmas? Is it just the one day? Could it be any day?

Two years ago on a winter’s night, I was heading to a party.  I hopped on to the E train from Queens, New York heading to a party in Brooklyn. The train stopped at Seventh Avenue where I changed for the D train to take me into Brooklyn. I sat on the bench waiting for the D train to arrive.  Looking up the track, I could see the lights of the approaching train. Out of nowhere, a man stumbles and falls on to the tracks of the oncoming train. Simultaneously, a tall, lanky man who was also sitting on the bench with his wife and two children plunged into action. He jumped on the tracks to rescue the fallen man. To his dismay the fallen man was double his weight.  Another gentleman and I witnessed these series of events with growing alarm. Now there were two men in danger and the train was fast approaching.  We plunged in to action - first assisting the tall, slim man to first lift the fallen hefty man to safety.  We then quickly hoisted the rescuer himself up on the platform. Seconds later the train pulled into the station. We lifted the man on to the bench. Then we boarded the train on our way to our private destinations. That day was Christmas.

Folk Incognito Blog Master.

 

 

 

 

 

DISARMAMENT

ERIDICATE ARMS

TOTAL DISARMAMENT

Yesterday, December 16^th, I went to church to pray for the kids and adults of Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown. I went to church to see if religion had a solution for the unprovoked deadly violence carried out at Newtown.  I left church achieving only one goal - prayers for the dead. Was I secure while in church? Are we secured anywhere with our present gun laws?  I then I came home. I watched President Obama’s speech on television. Upon his exit from the stage, the tight security measures designed to protect him were in and of themselves a reminder of how our inadequate gun laws make even the most good-natured interactions insecure. Even in the face of this tragedy and the peaceful nature of the President’s visit, there was a sense of insecurity as he exited. I have come to the conclusion total disarmament in every nation is a viable solution.

The art that accompanies this blog is a painting I did in 1993 during the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

The Sculptor was by Carl Fredrik Reutersward.  Gift of Luxembourg 1988.

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Jimi Hendrix

 I am about to exit the subway  at Prince Street Soho New York, Suddenly my ears are perked up  I hear the music of Jimi Hendrix coming from , a  Jimi Hendrix impersonator playing 'Purple Haze' and the sound of his Wa wah, just  floored me with Joy.

 It’s the late sixties I am in Ghana West Africa.  I quit school swung my guitar around my shoulder and join the Hippie generation at home.  Jimi Hendrix record being played twenty four hours a day in my room. The base note of 'Hey Joe 'is the only synchronized musical combination I can play on my guitar. I slip on my psychedelic flower shirt, which my mom sowed for me, and my bright color orange bell bottoms pants and Beatle shoes, dark glassed.  Lose my hair in the afro style. Then head to one of the popular lounging spots in heart Accra Ghana.  Before I go any further the afro hair was an ordeal, first I had to have my hair plaited or tied up the way it is done in Ghana, and this comes with lots of pain. School term begin I do not return, instead I become a Guinea Pig Tester for the West Africa ‘O’ Levels Mathematics.

Feel free to enquire of all art featured on my blog.

 

Folk Incognito Blog Master

Day2

Just a recap of my adult fictional book Day in the Life of Abby Thorn arrives home expecting to be greeted by his wife Stella.  He steps in to the shower.  The next few paragraphs that follow I have edited from the blog.   I have been tempted to totally delete original version paragraphs of Day in the life of Abby.  Day in the life is unexplainable adult fiction. The original unedited version can be bought on Lulu.com or if you email me I would send you the original unedited paragraphs. I must warn you that those paragraphs are explicitly sensual. On a lighter note feel free to make enquire of my art.

Love

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 It suddenly struck him as strange that there was no Stella to

greet him. Where was his wife where were his usual hug and

embrace and long lasting kiss. What was happening? Thorn

was anticipating their lovemaking. He would after kissing her

rush to the shower to rid himself of all the dust and grime on

his body from his long journey home. The first blast of the

shower would always be cold and have him shiver then the

water would warm up from the heat it acquired from the sun. Just at

 this moment Stella would step in to the shower with him and start to

 scrub him down with soap this he loved as it helped to relax his tiered

 muscles. He would then turn the sponge on her and start to soap her

 down gently as he did this she would get closer to him and start to rub her.

STREET ART

Street Art

It’s been a while; I have been pondering selling my art on the pavements of New York City.  After careful research on the must have to sell Art in New York City, things like tax ID and Paypal Here. I began scouting areas of the city to set up.  Discover the Parks Department designates areas where art can be sold. With this information, one lovely Saturday in spring I scouted an area close the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I found the perfect spot not the prime number one spot but the number two, one block from the Museum.  Now I am ready.   With little sleep filled with anxiety I raise early Saturday July 14th head down to claim my spot. My spot is gone. Other vendors had camped out the whole night as they do in the summer.  How was I to know?  Advised by kind vendor, two blocks away between 85^th and 86^th street they are spots not on the parks department list however the park rangers will not move you. Found perfect spot under a tree no overhead sun cool breeze blowing.  Now start setting up. First thing to do assemble easel to display art. Kind gentleman from India gives encouraging advice.  Art display is set up on easel.  I assemble my chair proceed to take out my art project for the day.  Out of nowhere a gust of wind blows my easel down with my art, try to reassemble does not work easel will not stand firm wind continues blowing. I have no alternative I repack art and disassemble easel. At this moment Guy from India returns enquires.  I must admit taught of giving up enters my mind.  My new friend says “are you leaving? Don’t give up.  I therefore try something else I displayed art on the container I brought art in, sit behind carton bracing and taped to my knees. Now I am ready, I take out my art project which I completed.  No sales however a very rewarding day helps from all round ,woman from Ecuador, Chinese  lady who gave me directions to rest room. Rest rooms should be scouted before beginning street art projects. Korean woman who promised to save my spot for the next day. American couple I met who loved my art and said I looked so comfortable and happy. Art project you may of heard Rosateresa sings melodious arias in the subway.

Folk incognito Blog Master.

ONCE UPON AN EASTER

With breakfast over we headed to the Back Dam where all the kite flying took place.  Our kite was so big we had to hitch a ride on a donkey cart and bumped our way to the Back Dam.

.

 KALEIDOSCOPE.

When we got there, there were thousands of kites already in the air kites of every sort and shapes and size, box kites, bird kite, boy and girl kites. And a buzz of excitement engulfed us.  On one end of the dam a jukebox was playing loud calypso music and on the other a steel band was warming up.  With Kite Man as our instructor: he says “Raise the kite with the cloth tail fus let’s sees how’s bad?”  Ten minutes after the kite was raised bad boys, bad men, and girls start to make an attack on our kite. Our kite was the best looking kite on the dam and therefore the envy of many a kite flier. When Kite Man saw the attack he said “let she pitch and come do like she get cut”.

That we did. Then he said “Replace the tail with the rope tail which we bring wid we”. That tail had razor blades placed strategically on its length also broken sharp glass. We waited for a good breeze and like a plane taking off we flew straight up in the air the bandits quickly saw us and so much coveted our kite they wasted no time and attacked immediately. In minutes we cut down two girl kites. Then came the boy kite they we fought off and eventually won over.

Now a big kite war had broken out Four times we got tangled up and had to bring down Baby Gal.

  Two times we had to cut and join and the rope and bring down “Baby Gal” Because she got into some dangerous tangles.

FINALITY

Then with running starts raised Baby gal straight up with the pulling loop Kite Man made on Baby Gal. Then it was only two kite in the air we battle a bad man kit name Pit Street Bull. Twice our tail  with razor blades cross over his rope but he still was flying and dipping and crossing and coming for our kite. Pit Street tail cross our rope three times. It looked like he was winning the battle. So we pretend we hurt and start to fall flapping in the wind like a bird whose wing is broken. Pitt Street sees that and he coming for the kill.  The Kite Man Say (Pull! Pull! Pull! I pulling and balling the twine furiously the rope burning my hands I already have blisters the kite rose and just as pit was coming for the kill our tail cut his rope.

 At same moment a big thunder and lightning flashed through the sky Kit Man shouted Lego! Lego!  Lego the rope! Away flew Baby Gal, into the thunder and lightning razor blades sparking Baby Gal on fire.

Once upon an Easter

Once Upon An Easter

 With our spirits uplifted Clarence my aunt Yvonne and I began preparing for the big Easter Monday kite flying day.  Only the receive a letter from my mother stating that she wanted us to spend Easter with her in New Amsterdam. The next couple days were now spent preparing for the long journey to New Amsterdam. We boarded the train in Georgetown, Lamaha Street in Cummingsburg to begin the trip New Amsterdam. 

To our amazement and joy as boys we were in the same compartment with two British soldiers.

Guyana the then “British Guiana” was a sovereign colony of England.  The British army sent soldiers to help squash the unrest and riots and return to country to a state of peace.                            

Between strained snips of conversation we got to know the English soldiers. They proved to be a savior to us after the train made one of its major stops at Mahica. At this stop we are lolled to leave the train to stretch our feet buy food and stuff.

What we did not know was Mahica was also World Head Quarters for Sand Flies and Mosquitoes. The moment the train pulled out of the Mahica station colonies of Sand Flies and Mosquitoes descended on us with most vicious attack of insect on man ever. Sand Flies will attack you in swarms on every exposed part of your body. They will find their way through your hair down to your skull and the bite every exposed part that no hair grows from and leave your head full of bumps, they are bad. The mosquitoes there will bite and drink every drop of blood you own by the time you reach to Rosignol you will have no blood. So there we were facing eminent death when the two English soldiers produced the most complete defense in the from of a bottle of Citronella oil. They offered to share some with us.  We graciously accepted their offer. We rubbed that oil on our body from head to toe. We literally took off our Yachting Boots and rubbed the oil between our toes and of course on our head, under our shirt and pants. “It just takes one sand fly to get under your shirt and pants to have you scratching and itching.  My brother and I will always be great full to those two English soldiers.

Once upon an Easter.

Once Upon An Easter 4

The time was the early sixties there was political unrest in Guyana schools were on vacation and my aunt was out on strike so was my uncle. There was rioting in the capital Georgetown, and political factions marooning the streets. It was getting close to Easter my brother Clarence and I were facing the daunting prospects of going without a kite. In Guyana it is traditional to fly kits on Easter Monday symbolizing the resurrection of Christ from the grave. We were moping around the house feeling sorry for ourselves and being lazy. 

Because Guyana experiences bursts of heavy rain at any time and extreme heat and sunshine the grass grow at an aggressive pace. It therefore happens on one of these hot spells that a Gardner came by and offered to cut the grass on our aunt’s lawn for a small fee.  My aunt Yvonne quickly agreed.  We as boys stood and watched in amazement as he used his scythe to swipe through the tall grass. Because of the extreme heat and humidity he had to take a break which he did. We sat around him in my aunt back yard and chatted with him and watched in amazement as he sharpened his scythe.

We explained to him our dilemma. He convinced us that our fears were unfounded and we could build our own wood kite. Up to that time my brother and I could only build pointer broom kits. Which were not very efficient kits. They were prone to breaking easily and had bad flying records.  The Gardner then proceeded to lead us through the steps of making our own wood kite with old pieces of board hanging around our yard. With the assistance of my aunt Yvonne who provide us with some of her Grease Proof paper and some color Barbados Paper we built two singing engine kits with big bulls so that they could hum in the air.  The kits being completed mine was put to the test flight. It flew so high it homed so loud it could be heard for miles my heart could not stop pounding with happiness.  Then as if out of nowhere a strong gosh of wind blew and pop went the twine (Crochet #0) and away flew my kite.  There was no time to waste straight away we plunged in to action running in the direction of the falling kite. As fast as the kite fell it disappeared more speedily. We now had to go from yard to yard over fences fearing dogs and angry shouts. Finally we got to the yard of an old lady and decided to ask her if she had seen a kite fall.  “Yes” she said, and then asks us to describe the kite. I slept well that night with my kite by my bedside.

Once upon an Easter

Once upon an Easter 3

With the coming of Easter also comes Easter showers and Campbellville always floods.  Mr. Kerry our neighbor had a speed boat which he would float down to the wide trench at the back of our homes called Milky.   And there gather all the boys of the street and we would go speeding up and down the trench. This was the water way where all the boys in the neighborhood learned how to swim.

Peter one of the older boys would lead us out to the middle of “Milky” floating on a log then take the log away and leave you in the middle. This called for desperate action frantic scramble to the shore line suddenly we were swimming.  Going to swimming in Milky was not however approved by my aunt. Therefore after concocting lies as to our reason for leaving the house we would end up at “Milky” swimming naked as we were born. Best way to swim one felt a sense of freedom. After swimming for hours we return to banks looking for our cloths which we hid under some shrub.  Only to discover to our horror that they were gone.  My older cousin while we were having fun had crept up and grabbed our cloths. This presented a big dilemma how do we get home without cloths?  Hands between our legs and over our bottoms. Picture that?  Total humiliation as we walked down the street the girls of the neighborhood to see us and laugh at us; then licks like peas when we got home. And if you don’t holler loud you get more licks not an easy proposition never the less, we have to journey home. May be we wait till dusk? Still not good proposition dusk is chilly and cold mosquitoes and Sand flies bite your tail.

Once upon an Easter

ONCE UPON AN EASTER 2

Thanks for staying for with me my blog followers in all parts of the world love to you all.

Folk Incognito Blog Master.

 Its five am in the morning and Ramdas came calling.  {You really had to know the guy. He woke me up by throwing tiny bean seeds at my bedroom window}.  I spring up before he wakes up the whole house. It is also bird-catching season. The morning air is filled with different sounds of birds singing and chirping.  And just before sun raises you here the cooks crowing around the neighborhood it is a festive time for all birds.  Ramdas and I plunge ourselves into the surrounding fields with high grass.  Ramdas already had a bird in his cage, attached to that cage is a mini cage with a trap door.  He also has some poles stuck with chewing gum remains. We wait as Ramada’s bird in the cage chirps away this attracts other bird’s kisskidy or a yellow breast.  We were hoping to trap one or two in the little cage or on the poles.

Most families are not up that early.  However because Ramada’s Father Works on the Sugar estate he had to be up early. We head to Ramdas bottom house his mother has brisk fireside going the air is filled with the aroma of hot cocoa and coffee brewing, and rotie being clapped by Ramada’s sister. On the next side of the fireside, his mother roasted some bologna chocker. Two plates were prepared we sit in hammock and ate with our hands as the cool morning breeze blows.

Once upon an Easter.

ONCE UPON AN EASTER 1

Dear followers I am going to pause my blog on Day in the life of Abby to repeat my Easter story and this time to have it end on Easter Monday.

School is on early Easter vacation.
The Campbellville Heroes as we fondly call ourselves were racing home on our bikes. My bike “Yellow Bird” was an old model ladies bike fondly called a “Preggie”. With a make, shift wooden bar. On this wooden bar I towed my good friend Choe Chan. Riding home; we made a screeching halt by the shave iceman for a snow cone with colorful sweet syrup. This will cool us down from the hot sticky sun. We hoped to meet Ramdas and Suzie at the D. Y. C. playground. Finally we got to the playground but the Subrianville Iguana’s had got there before us and had all intentions of hawking the field. With nothing else to do but wait, we settled under the huge Genip tree with its large branches and cool tropical breeze blowing. Ramdas however saved the day “would you believe it he had a flour bag full of mangoes”. We ate as much as we could. Now it was barging time. We dealt the rest to the Iguana’s to get them off the cricket pitch. By the time we got home from cricket, Choe Chan’s mother had prepared for us some Chinese cake with some cold Sorrel drink. We ate then left and went to the back of my home to start making our own cricket bats. Sometimes, we made then out of old coconut branches that had fallen from the trees and at other times out old pieces of wood we found around our yard.
The start of Easter holidays.
Once upon an Easter.