Reunion, September 2019

I was so lucky to be able to attend a reunion of the Soutar cousins in Florida a couple of weeks ago. Mike conceived the idea, issued the invitations, lined up some activities, and hosted the gathering at his home in Bradenton, FL. About half of those invited attended, and we all had a great time getting caught up and remembering previous gatherings.  For most of us, it had been from 35-50 years since we'd been together - we were teens then, and now we're grandparents!

The timing was perfect - there had been a thunderstorm and lots of rain the day before I arrived, so the humidity and temperature were pretty tamped-down for the duration of my visit.


For me, one of the highlights was the beautiful Coquina Beach on Anna Maria Island, a barrier island off the Florida coast in the Gulf of Mexico. The water was insanely warm, and so much more buoyant than the fresh water in the pool at the gym here in Sacramento. Mike's cabana is the navy-striped one near the water.

There were many whole limpets and other shells at the waterline, and I brought a few home to show my granddaughter Emma. (She "fed" them to her plush puppy.)

The dolphin and sunset cruise on Saturday evening was so much fun! We got to the marina very early and stood around for a while, but once on the boat, the guide was informative and entertaining.

We saw lots of Atlantic Bottlenose dolphins, including mommas and babies, and some spectacular leaps. I'm sure the boat crew thought they were calling them with their incessant horns, whistles, and railing-banging - I just thought it was noisy.




We pretty much had the entire boat to ourselves. There was one family of three who also enjoyed the cruise. They had an adult son with autism, and he enthusiastically responded to the leaping dolphins whenever they made an appearance off the bow. We talked a little, because of my sister, Mary, and I hope I was able to ease some of the awkwardness they felt at being on the boat with a family party.








As sunset approached, the boat cruised to the Gulf side of the island for a view of the sunset. We waited for the green flash, but I don't think anyone saw it.







And what would a reunion of Jamaican cousins be without Jamaican food? We had Rice and Peas, chicken, and I can't remember what else on the first night. Debbie and Mary completed a cooking marathon, making boiled yellow yams, Johnny cakes, Festival, salt fish and ackee, and cutting up fruit for breakfast the following morning.





Everyone seemed to have a great time chatting, singing, swimming, and eating. We exchanged contact information, and several said they want to do it again next year. That would be nice.

While visiting Mom in Kailua last week, I found and transcribed some of her essays, and will publish them here, because they describe daily life in a far different place and time. This is an essay Mom wrote for a class she was taking at the Windward Community College. I think it was a biography writing class.

Old Nana

With great affection I recall old “nana”, a black woman who had been nursemaid to my aunts and uncles and my mother. In the British Colonial West Indies of the late eighteen and early nineteen hundreds such family servants closely bonded with their employers for a familial affectionate relationship.

When I knew Nana she was confined to her room by the infirmities of age. Her room was part of a barracks for the servants on my Grandfather's estate, Richmond Penn. As a child of about seven or eight years I enjoyed visiting with her, and felt important that I was able to read her Bible to her.

Nana's room was furnished simply – a small cot, a plain table on which she kept her Bible and some religious pictures, as well as her comb, some ointments, and a ewer and basin for washing. She was always sitting in an old, well worn rocking chair. She could not read, but enjoyed singing hymns, and visiting with the other servants. It was the custom of the women servants to paste over the bare walls of their rooms colorful pictures cut out from Mail Order Catalogs. I used to enjoy helping old Nana with this, using home-made paste of flour and water.

Before I was too much older Nana died. My first experience with death, I was more curious than upset. I remember visiting her for the last time when women from her church were preparing her body for burial. She was laid out on her cot dressed in a white cotton gown, and seemed in pleasant sleep. But then, they commenced to comb her hair. Her short, frizzy white hair was carefully parted into small sections, and neatly and tightly braided into short plaits. As they pulled and plaited, I was disturbed to see how her head was jerked about. But soon it was all done, and Nana was again still, her head now elaborately wound about by a white cloth.

That afternoon there was a great gathering at the women's quarters. All the estate servants and laborers, and the Minister and congregation from her Church. I stood on the verandah of the big house and listened to the glorious rise and fall, the rich instinctive harmonies, of all those voices.
All the history of these people, their sorrows, their tragedies, their patient endurance, colored their hymns in a heart-rending way. Nana was properly mourned.

It was their custom, nine days after death, to come together again and celebrate the liberation of the soul - “nine-Night”. This was a joyous occasion and food and rum were plentiful. The singing was now vigorous and accompanied by foot-stomping and hand-clapping. The bodies jerked and swayed, the happy faces sweated, and all sorrow was forgotten for that night.

Fay Schulmeister
August 1990

Not exactly family news, but gratifying nonetheless: I finally found a long-sought album of Jamaican songs last night on iTunes. Grannie Crosswell sent the album to us when we were small children, and we wore it out. Literally. Until the vinyl disk was too scratched to listen to and finally cracked. Over the years, I've been trying to find another copy, to no avail. I couldn't remember the artist's name, and no one else could recollect it, either. But - now I've got the entire album downloaded, and am planning to burn it to CD and give a copy to Mom for Christmas.

So - what is the album? It is "Songs From Jamaica" with Edric Connor and the Caribbeans.

Day 4 - The Party

After lunch, Peter and I went to see Ainsley Henriques, who is a leader in the Jamaican Jewish community, and who has been working on a huge project to index and map the Jewish cemeteries. We know our Ur-Ancestor, Noel Crosswell, is buried in a Jewish cemetery, and I thought it might be neat to see if we could find his grave. Ainsley said many graves no longer have stones, and Noel's name is not in the index. He was able to give an educated guess as to where it might be. However, we ran out of time, and had to return to Fee's house for the big family get-together and dinner.

At 6 p.m., the elder family members began arriving: Mother's cousins, Joan and Farren, an in-law, Audrey, and their assorted children with spouses. By 7, everyone else began walking in. We also invited Noel Vaz and Mr. and Mrs. Wycliff Bennet, people who knew mother. Many had not ever seen the family portraits, and they became the center of the conversation for a while.

Soon the house was full, and Glenn, the Bar Man, was filling everyone's hand with some liquid cheer. Maxine prepared a repast that included crackers and a spread made from salt fish and tomatoes and onions; there was also boiled green bananas, roast chicken, rice and peas, a salad, and I'm probably missing something. Nicola brought the desserts: home-made individual pavlovas, cheesecake, and another cake.

Velia sang, accompanied on the piano by Lloyd Hall, and later Yekengale. I was so busy circulating that I only took about four photos. I am depending on the others, Peter, Velia, Fee, and Nicola, to share the ones they took. We talked, laughed, caught up all the news, ate, and sang until the wee hours, and finally, as the guests took their leave, Peter brought us to his house in May Pen, as he had to preach the sermon at Mass the following morning. Velia and I were so wired up from the party that we talked until 2 a.m.

Nest morning, Peter commented that "every living relative on the island" came to greet me. I was genuinely moved by their friendliness and kindness, and wished with all my heart I didn't have to leave so soon. My cousins, who were children and teens when we last visited, all grew up to be remarkable and interesting adults, many with spouses and children. We are expecting to stay in touch from now on.

After 40 Years

I am going back to Jamaica tomorrow for the first time in forty years! I was invited by two of my cousins to come and visit, and since I had already requested this week off from work six months ago, I decided to use it by taking them up on their offer. Forty years ago, we were all teenagers; now, we all have adult children. Mother's cousins were my age, then; now, they are her age: 90s. I think this will be a good visit.

I am also blogging the trip on my other blog, Halona, the Peering Place. You may find photos thers.