Unbridled Gifthorses

Happy New Year, Indeed!

I got an early "present" in the form of a last-minute writing assignment to interview an up-and-coming travel guru, originally from Brooklyn, now an expat in London. Talking with Travis gave me some really encouraging insights on taking leaps of faith that have helped confirm my ambitions for this new year. A bonus on this perspective was in the discovery through our chat that we actually share an ancestral homeland! "Guyanese truly does go everywhere, man!"

2018 has already blustered in (snow punning, I know) with all kinds of interesting developments. The most enjoyable so far has been the growing tradition of meeting up with some of my New York City cousins and hanging out and catching up. Chances are, I might have just seen them at the annual Christmas potluck, but every now and then a surprise guest makes an appearance.

This Christmas, I got to dig deep into some old family photos documenting our shared heritage, and even make plans to do more genealogical spelunking that would culminate in some sort of published work. It's all very exciting!

I feel most validated, however, by the sheer joy and unexpected benefits of reconnecting with old friends and relatives that were growing far too distant. And I will take this moment to include all of the family friends- Aunt This and Uncle That- that are, by sheer cultural privilege, also part of my family.

I should back up a bit here. I have a huge extended family. HUGE. My mother is one of nine, my father one of five, his mother the eldest of ten, and her mother the middle of five or six herself! All of the previous generation had at least two kids a-piece, and on, and on! We've got such overlap between the generations, I'm envisioning a family chart that will rival the Targaryens, without the icky incest. I have made jokes about not even attempting to marry anyone Guyanese or Bajan, specifically to avoid unpleasant (READ: unexpected) familial connections. I'm only half-joking.

The point is that there are a lot of us that I call Family, and we honor our second- and third cousins, and are (in)conveniently spread out over three, maybe four continents! So when even a few of us gather together to celebrate, mourn, and, invariably, eat, it is a big deal, especially as many in my generation keeps getting married and having children, and getting quite caught up with life in their respective borders. Iv'e often felt like a bit of an anomaly among my cousins, being in my mid-thirties and not following suit, but as I learn to embrace the unique path that I am on, I relish what I can also add to the legacy of our ancestors' wildest dreams.

Some of us cousins made plans to get together and make the first day of the new year a collaborative process of vision-boarding, kids in tow, carving a small rectangular piece of dreams and affirmations into our hectic and varied lives. It was an oddly calming exercise that really got our creative juices going, amidst the children orbiting on their bikes and scooters.  I learned that we all have similar desires to travel, a genetic trait that has not thinned out, apparently. We also all had a moment of clarity for how we can still be in each other's lives, and be of value and encouragement.

As the time came to a dramatic close (you can't really take your eyes of of that many assortment of tykes for too long!), we collected our cutouts to finish later and briefly explained our mural masterpieces to each other. One cousin expressed her interest in getting into a healthier diet regimen and incorporating more outdoors activity to add variety and fun to her transition. Another cousin vowed to use her post-graduation off-time before starting a new job to volunteer more and learn a new language. Another cousin who has the cutest team of boys very close in age said that this is the year she books an all-inclusive family vacation, her first like this since she became a domestic engineer. There were suggestions for websites to visit with travel information, and promises of accountability support for individual endeavors. Here again, we young women pledged to maintain friendships borne from childhood.

This was the first time in my memory that we had a goal-oriented gathering, and it affirms the promise that as we continue to grow and grow older, we still have it within us the codes to family success, family wealth and healthier relationships with whomever crosses our paths.

By the end of this week, a couple birthdays would have come and gone, job interviews attended, a flight around the world taken. I, myself made an investment into my own skill development with some online courses, while I continue with renewed vigor chasing down writing contracts, and practicing what makes me perfect: my words, my #kitchentherapy, my beadcraft, and my penchant for diving down rabbit-holes in research. fine activities for a winter's week.

An Ode to My Grandfather, Charles S. Daniels, My First Storyteller

Good morning Facebook. Random thoughts popped into my head that must be shared.

1-Me at about 4 years old on Saturday and weekday mornings with my grandfather watching morning children's programming on PBS Channel 13, or Saturday morning cartoons (when they were good). He's in the kitchen frying bacon and eggs, with buttered toast and a large enamel mug of sweetened and creamed coffee that I will get just a few sips of. I was not in school yet, at this point, and distinctly remember everyone else in the house had already got up and left for their respective work and school, so it was just me and him those times.
2- A few years later, still with the Saturday morning cartoons. Around noon or 1pm, though, it was Grandad's turn to watch tv. The choice was either boxing on Spanish Language Channel 41 or 47 (Telemundo?), or whatever old rerun movie they were showing on Channel 7 (ABC) or 11(WPIX), which meant a lot of western movies, or Matlock. I would laugh when I watched Grandad's rapt attention to the small TV screen, feigning boxing himself, as we tried to decipher rapid-fire Spanish commentary.
3- We lived in The Bronx, and I was going to Brooklyn Technical High School. Any of you out there have a clue what kind of commute I endured for four years (in a two-fare zone, no less) will understand. It seemed like every month I found myself being excused from class to lay on a cot in the infirmary that first grueling day of my monthlies. My grandfather used to come from The Bronx and pick me up when I was too sick and delirious to go back to class. He went to the drugstore and bought my lady products.
4- Grandad was old and one year from dying of cancer at this point. But he was well and alert enough in 1999 to be a part of the family crew that escorted me to college way out in Southampton, Long Island. I have a picture of him with everybody else in the public quad area of my dormroom, outside the computer center, looking a little out of place, a shrinking dark-skinned black man whom I rarely saw smile. He was smiling and proud on that day.

2018 Update on his 101st birthday: In the midst of and beyond these specific events, Charles Daniels weaved a great yarn! He was a masterful storyteller, and kept meticulous notes that I find myself poring over as I work on a personal heritage project. It is because of him that I started remembering birthdates of my extended family, and tracing my lineage to four continents. Even when I wasn't certain whether I was hearing entire truth or embellishments of memory, I knew that I had a treasure trove of information from the stories my grandfather's oral and written traditions. My recent journey to Cyprus brought a lot of these thoughts back, and talking with my older cousin "Uncle" Walter D'Aguiar helped to fill in many gaps to the timelines.

The point of citing these distinct memories is that I want to promote and support the Men of Facebook that I know to emulate this kind of dedication and tenderness to their daughters, granddaughters nieces, step-children, any girl that you come across for a time, that you can influence with your authority, your love, your very presence. Aside from the 1st day of college, these were all fairly mundane days in my life, in his life. It rained, it snowed, he went to work, I woke up or went to school. But they will always be treasured memories for me. My grandfather had one daughter. I am her eldest of two. He had her over twenty years later in his life than my mother had me, so the age gap was pretty distinct in terms of parenting styles, but the values still stuck.

Credit where credit is due: this post was made possible by a particularly quiet and pleasant weekend morning, free from immediate pressing obligations and a full spirit. I attribute the manifestation of this from a Facebook status update to an actual blog post to two special ladies, however; my best friend @littlefootlady, and the awesome @Luvvie, for the gentle kicks in the pants!

~@Swaitespot