Nothing else to add right now. This is my hometown. Enough said.
Tomorrow 05.27.2013 is Memorial Day back home. It’s a day that most Americans have off as a federal holiday, and we make the most of it – countless shopping sales, gatherings, parties, and the good ol American barbecue/grill-fest. But most importantly, Memorial Day celebrates & remembers those who fought & died while fighting for the United States in different wars. I dedicate this re-blog to my friend Jeff Lebrun, who died in Iraq over 8 years ago in the name of an unjust war (another debate for another time), as well as the countless others who died fighting for the U.S. military. Enjoy the day off, but don’t forget the day’s main purpose.
Today is an old friend’s birthday. We’ve not spoken in a very long time. Our friendship never really ended; life happens – work, marriage, kids, military, etc. and our lives took different directions. Like everyone else
addicted to connected to the world-wide web, I got on Facebook and got an alert reminding me about my friend’s birthday. His settings are such that no one can write on his wall, but can send a private message instead, which I did.
I rarely view other people’s walls or pages, but I decided to
be nosy skim through his friends list. I don’t know 98% of the people on his list, but I recognised a couple of old, familiar faces. I didn’t click on their names, but it got me thinking about where I was then, and where I am now.
I wonder about those people not because I’m nosy (well, I’m usually not nosy), but I wonder how they’re doing and if they’re still in the same place, physically and otherwise. I look back and I’ve changed a lot since then. Back then, I was deep into church yet filled with anger & negativity. Those people, looking back, were ultra-religious and ultra-conservative. Now granted, I had some good times with those people – hell, one of them wound up being my longest relationship ever – but that part of my life, and those people, can stay back there. If I remained where I was, physically and otherwise, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
I’ve done so much since then. I’ve been through so much since then. I live in another country, a life-long dream fulfilled. I’m now agnostic, and aside from my friend, his wife, his sister and another friend, I don’t speak to any of the people from that time in my life. I’ve seen different places, done different things, met different people, made many mistakes, learnt many things. And while I don’t miss that part of my life, I appreciate that era for keeping me focused, out of trouble, and on the straight & narrow. I take those things and carry them with me… not to stay stuck, but to sustain me as I move onward & forward.
Here’s to looking back on life. Here’s to
dropping dead weight distant memories of those who are in your lives for a reason and a season, no matter how short the season. Here’s to being insane crazy scared brave enough to move to another country. Without looking back every once in a while, one can’t move forward to new experiences, people or places. And I’m glad that those things landed me where I am today – in the United Kingdom and in a whole new world.
How have your experiences in the past led you to where you are today as an expatriate? Did you ever think that you’d be living in another country?
October is Black History Month in the United Kingdom. I like it more here because it’s longer than in the United States (February – 28 days long, 29 days long every 4 years) and, in my area, there are lots of things going on during the month to celebrate, reflect & remember. For example, I had the honour of hearing Kofi Annan (Wikipedia link) speak earlier this month, and I’ll see another international figure of Black heritage speak later this month. But for now, I’d like to highlight a Black history figure who hasn’t received (well overdue) attention until recently, within the past few years.
I learned about Mary Seacole (Wikipedia link) about 9 months after moving here. An art gallery hosted an organisation, focused on raising funds to build a statue in her name, to talk about this little-known woman who made a big impact in Britain. She was the Black equivalent of Florence Nightingale.
I took photos of the painted portraits of Mary Seacole during the discussion, but unfortunately I can’t find them. If or when I do, I’ll add them to this post. In the meantime, check out Mary Seacole by going to the link below, expand your knowledge & learn you something.
Consider donating to the Mary Seacole Memorial Statue fund.
My maternal grandmother died over 17 years ago. Although it has gotten easier with time and the pain isn’t as sharp as it used to be, the longing, the memories, the love… even the pain, no matter how dull… never go away. She was a major part of my life. We (her grandkids) saw her almost every day, as she lived down the block from us and watched us after school sometimes while our parents worked and made their way home in the evenings. We’d play in front of her building, not too far from her sight of course. Our old neighborhood is far from savory, so after calling us to get in before the street lights came on, we were inside with her and/or down the hall at my god-sister’s house and/or upstairs at my play cousin’s house (her god-daughter).
Before I moved over here, my aunt J surprised me & gave me one of my grandmother’s possessions as a parting gift. It pained her to do it (she shed a few tears), but she wanted me – the oldest grandchild & only granddaughter – to have it. I was, and still am, humbled by it and keep it on my dresser. I’ve even used it once or twice. What is it, you ask?
Her old school powder puff. (I have other items from her, but this one sticks out the most.)
Grandma used this powder all the time, whether she was making a quick run to the store, or going on a weekend trip to Atlantic City, New Jersey (Wikipedia link) with her sisters (my great-aunts), or visiting Panama (Wikipedia link) or Barbados (Wikipedia link) or (insert anywhere here). I vaguely remember her putting it on, standing in front of her mirror as she finished getting dressed. I loved hugging & kissing her after she dabbed the powder on her neck & chest because she smelled so sweet! She’d fuss at me a little – “Don’t mess up my face (make-up) & clothes!” – but she knew full well that she loved her granddaughter’s hugs & kisses.
I still think about her, miss her, and love her beyond infinity. I wonder how our relationship would be if she were still alive. Grandma liked travelling a bit, so I’m sure that she’d visit me over here for a while and, later, fuss at me for making such a fuss over her.
(Panamanian accent) “You don’t worry about me! I’m not that old, I know where I’m going. I want to explore this place, it’s so big, my goodness!… Yes, I know it’s like back home but still, it’s big!… Just give me the spare keys so I can find my way around… Yes I’m sure, dammit! You’re not too grown for a pop in the mouth. Your mouth fresh!… Yes, I’ll be fine… Yes, I’ll call you… No, I won’t lose the spare phone… Alright alright! Ay yi yi, dios mio, yes I’ll behave!… I love you too, babes.”
If any of you are from the Caribbean or Central America or South America (hell, almost anywhere worldwide) and you have grandparents or older parents who visit you when you’re an expatriate, they stay long time! My grandmother would surely stay at least a month.
I laugh just thinking about it… but that’s how I picture things in my mind if she were still alive. I’d prefer her to be here in body & mind, but at least I carry her spirit with me everywhere. And it only takes one whiff of her powder to reminisce and treasure the memories.
You are forever missed & loved. Que en paz descanse pa’siempre, Grandma. And thank you, aunt J.
Tell me about your favorite things in the comments section.
There really isn’t much else to add to this. As with September 11, 2001 in the United States, July 7, 2005 is a day that’ll never be forgotten in the United Kingdom, and I think that the original blog post & my tags on this post speak for my thoughts about today.
Originally posted on Wanderlust:
Today, 7 years ago tragedy struck the capital. The day before London had been announced as the winner of the 2012 summer Olympics.
When I moved here in September 2008 the bombings weren’t that far from my mind. I wasn’t actively scared of being here, if I was I wouldn’t have come, but riding the tube did make me feel a bit anxious at first. I think that had more to do with being in a confined space and not having a clear and easy exit. I’m weird, any where I am I size up the place and like to know where my exists are.
One of my first memories of the tube was riding the escalator out of Kings Cross, looking around and thinking what is up with this station, it looks like it has been bombed. It didn’t click for me. Not until months later when I went to the Museum of London and came across a Book of Tributes. As I flipped through I read about the events of 7/7/2005. I read about the 52 people who died that day. There were also 700 injuried.