It’s a Journey

Life is a journey is an oft repeated cliché.  There is truth in it.  What better way to describe the path we each travel from birth to death.

My Bert and I recently celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary.  I have been pondering our journey together.  There have been many journeys within the journey.  All began as unknown territory.

Journeys begin with hello.  They end with goodbye.  Some flash by like comets others are slow perambulations.   Some are sunlight, some are dark night; some give you strength, some make you weak.

Some you want to hold forever; some you can’t wait to let go.  Some make you laugh until you cry some only make you cry. 

There are journeys that you seek and journeys that are thrust upon you.

Some journeys lead you to people who become Lifeliners, friends forever.  Some lead to people who are fleetingly important for just a moment in time.

Journeys are moments, no matter the duration.   Some are landmarks of your life that help you find your soul, your strength, your spirit.   Journeys are multifaceted.  You juggle the segments, living them concurrently.   Journeys teach you to multitask.

Journeys are never straight, direct or easy.  Yet once you begin you must continue.

Some journeys seem never ending.  You stumble, ineffectual, distraught, full of fear, numb with disappointment.   You see chasms and dangerous cliffs, mountains that seem too high to scale.  There are twists and turns and unexpected obstacles.  These are the fragments that seem to be put in your path to frustrate you, only you.  Now comes the realization that this is really your journey, only you can walk this particular road, only you can make the decision which path to take.

 It is wonderful when you can take control of the journey.  You have solutions to problems, answers to questions; you dream the impossible and see it become possible.   You start out in uncharted waters diving into unknown territory and surprisingly make a safe, happy landing.   Yes, some journeys are wonderful, delightful and satisfying.

Each one has a life journey.  How you travel it is up to you.   You can accept the help of friends and family with grace.  You may show gratitude for the kindness of strangers.  You may be lucky to give love and have it returned twofold.  In the end your journey will be a reflection of your truth, of you.

More than 50 years ago My Bert and I like so many others have over the years, made a decision to walk our journeys together.    What a journey it has been and continues to be.  On this challenging leg the decision on how the journey unfolds is mine to make for both of us. I can make us both miserable; bemoan the unfairness of it all or I can embrace the privilege that it is to be a caregiver to the one you love and to whom you are the world.

My Bert and I are still saying hello to love, to life, to joy.  We embrace the moments and while they are fleeting for him and lasting for me they are our moments.  His journey and mine will commingle as they have for more than 50 years.    We will continue to walk in tandem and greet each day with hope that it will be a good day.

The Meander:   The day you are born is the day you begin to die.  That is inevitable, inescapable and undeniable.    As my Bert and I continue to say hello at the dawn of each new day I hope we will both be able to rise to the occasion and be ready to say goodbye at journey’s end.  In the meantime we will keep on with the journey.  We will live the moments and not look around the bend.    Why bother? What is there will come without fail.

A Golden Night

Friday January 11, 2019 I woke up very early.  The weather report said it was -12 Celsius with a wind chill of -20!  Brrrrrrr.  But this is Canada in winter.

January 11, 1969 was on a Saturday.  When I awoke then it was already 28 Celsius with a projected high of 30!  But this is Jamaica in winter.

The coincidence did not escape me.  Fifty years married and a 50 degree difference in temperature.

On Friday, January 11, 2019 my Bert and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary with 50 close friends.  It was a Golden night, a night filled with love and Light.

The setting was special, decorated in gold and white.  The dinner was marvellous. The toasts were heartfelt and warm and so eloquently delivered.  Best of all was the love that seemed to permeate every corner of the room.

I saw friends making friends.  I saw smiles, heard joyous laughter, saw caring glances and chuckled at the comments made at our ‘before’ and ‘after’ photographs.

It was a night to reminisce.  Fifty years is a long time together for any couple.  During that time we loved, we argued, we worked, we had successes, we had failures, we gave, we received, and we brought two wonderful children into the world.  We mourned, we hoped, we laughed, we always laughed.  We travelled the world, we helped, we got help, and we supported and received support.

It was a celebration of friendship.  Throughout our lives my Bert and I have been blessed with the most wonderful friends.  We are so grateful for that so decided we would do our best to have some of them share in our joy and to let them know how much they mean to us.  They were representative of so many more whose influence and guidance and love have helped to make us who we are.

It was a night of family and friends who are family in every sense of the word.  There were some we missed, but who were with us in spirit.  Our best man at our wedding could not be with us in person but he was with us in song as his recording of The Prayer was played.  At our age some who wanted to be with us could not for a variety of reasons but we still felt their love.

The highlights are many.  The wonderful paean from our dear friend; the tribute from our beloved son; the reading of Sonnet 44 Elizabeth Barrett Browning ‘s  How Do I Love Thee.

However, the greatest moment of sheer immediate and spontaneous laughter happened when we attempted to renew our vows.  Our family friend and Minister had in perspicacity and necessity reduced the vows to a simple: “…Bert I ask you, do you still want to be married to your wife Paula?”  Bert looked at him and said: “Let me think about that.”  The laughter filled the room.  I was in stitches as I thought: “That’s my Bert.”  As usual, my Bert set the mood for the rest of the night.  It was laughter, joy, Love and Light in the company of family and friends.

The Meander:  My Bert and I opened the dancing with ‘our song’ Unchained Melody.  As we danced, my Bert held me close and sang the words throughout to me.  In our eyes was only love. Love endures.

Resolutions

No doubt resolutions are being made left right and centre.  Resolutions are being broken even as I write.  Resolutions made at the stroke of midnight as 2019 dawned are already in the trashcan of what might have been.  I rarely make resolutions even though I see the New Year as an opportunity to begin anew, to look forward, even to dream and to plan.  However, to continue my ruminations on 2018 I have decided to take a leaf from Melinda Gates’ book and choose one word to guide me throughout this year.  It has been reported she does that and since I am not that enamoured by resolutions this seems a good alternative.  I have chosen ‘Light’ to be the word that will guide me throughout 2019. I have decided to walk in the light to see the light and whenever possible to be the light.  It sounds laudable but  I have to acknowledge that this may be the hardest objective I have ever set.  Yet at the same time I have some confidence that it is the one I may be able to attain.

So far keeping resolutions has not been my forte.  I am going to lose weight is a recurring theme which starts with gusto and swiftly ends with gusto – usually with the Valentine chocolates.  I am going to start and stick to an exercise regimen.  Yes!  Except that I have not decided which year this is to begin.  Since I make the resolution at midnight I should begin on New Year’s Day.  If I have stayed up until midnight I am too tired to start that day, and by January 2nd the enthusiasm has curbed to the point of lethargy and there is a book somewhere that is calling me.  How much more civilized to exercise in such a peaceful, restful, and for me the necessary occupation of reading a good book while swaddled in a soft throw and curled in my favourite chair.  The mind needs exercise too!

This year I am transitioning from the ridiculous to the sublime of resolution making.  No resolutions, just   a word and determination.  Walking in light, seeing the light, being the light is incredible conceit, a pipe dream, or maybe setting me up for failure.  Yet I think, even though it is only day five, that I will succeed better than I have ever done before. 

Living with a loved one with Alzheimer disease is living in darkness.  Caregivers know that because until this we have lived in light.  This is my first purposeful plan that is not me focused.  This is for my Bert.  My Bert needs light.  He needs to see the light outside, inside and see me as light.  His happiness is my light, my happiness is his light.  Caregivers live for two.  I want to shine a light for my Bert, for other caregivers and everyone I meet.  Still I am being selfish as I believe I will benefit the most if I succeed.

This is also the first plan that will perforce depend on outside help.  It is family, Lifeliners, friends, counsellors, my support system who will walk in the light with me, seek to see the light with me and encourage me in my efforts to be the light.  They know and they care.

The Meander:   “Your success and happiness lies in you. Resolve to keep happy, and your joy and you shall form an invincible host against difficulties.” — Helen Keller

This is from someone who knew the dark intimately.  I wonder how invincible I can be against Alzheimer disease.   Then again it is not a ‘difficulty’ it’s a disease. I do not have to be invincible.   Come walk in the light with me. 

Ruminations on a Year-2018

We look at the world; the world looks back at us.   Some call me brave.  Brave?  Far from it but I do accept responsibility.  They call us a loving couple and that we are.

“Oh, Bert looks so well, you would hardly know he has Alzheimer disease”.  If only they knew.  I choose to accept the compliment on behalf of both of us, after all carers get so little thanks, if any.

“How can you write so positively about your situation?”  I choose to do so.  No, I do not have a Pollyanna complex.  Rose coloured glasses obscure too much.   I have to see clearly not just for me but also for my Bert.  I hurt.    Of course I do.  However, I am grateful that I do see the glass half full and have been blessed by an offbeat sense of humour and with a partner who makes me laugh.

“You are a Saint.”  Hah!  Leave that sobriquet to Mother Teresa.  There are times when I must be more akin to the devil incarnate.  Have I experienced bitterness?  Yes, but as Norman Vincent Peale said: ”Change your thoughts and you change your world.”   Sure I will have negative thoughts; they come with the territory, but I hope they are not bitter.

In 2018, the learning curve reached a peak.  We sit on a plateau not knowing when the change will come.  Will it be again upward or will it be a downward helter-skelter tumbling into the abyss?   More than likely it will be a combination of upward learning as we tumble ever downward.  I choose to let the future be, holding on to the present and refusing to be weighed down by the past.  2018 taught us we can live, differently yes, but live nonetheless.  This is neither bravery nor sainthood, just accepting the things we cannot change.

In 2018 I learnt banging my head against the wall only results in a headache. Therefore I count to ten or maybe twenty or maybe…  I must be long past a million by now.

In 2018 I learnt that I am actually quite pragmatic as I know I have to acknowledge the darkness.  I have to grant how awful, how evil, how depressing this disease is.  Yet I must also look for the infinitesimal spark of light within that darkness.

2018 taught us to live by smalls, like small mercies, small moments, small comforts, and small miracles.  We learnt to wonder at the beauty of one song within the symphony, one iridescent droplet after the rain, one star within the constellation.  In a shrinking world our universe expanded.

In 2018 I would sometimes awaken with tears streaming and fall into a chicken and egg reverie.  Are these tears of joy for a rare good night’s sleep or is the sadness deep in my soul finding release?  I try to unravel the conundrum while in my suspended animation shifting between waking and sleeping I endeavour to decipher the meaning of the tears.

The yin and yang are played out in every way thinkable every day.  It seems that happiness and sadness are always holding hands, walking in tandem and interlaced with uncertainty.  What’s next is an ever present question and the answer is always we do not know.

The Meander:  As a new year dawns I promise myself that when I see myself sliding into the slough of despair I will ponder the imponderables:  How can there be darkness if we do not know light; how can we know good if there is no evil.  I can be joyful because I am intimate with sadness.

Holiday Wish

Early in the month I decided that I would not write about anything to do with dementia for this post.  Yuck!  What a downer.  So I got out the travel journals.  I read a particularly funny episode to my Bert.  He does not remember but it was good enough to elicit a response.  With a look of wonder he said; “We did that?” and declared that it was ‘good’.  I was still not inspired.

Then early this morning on my way to the kitchen to put the kettle on  I glanced at the dancing coloured lights on the balcony roof and stopped as my spirit lifted.   It was still dark out and the only light inside came from the Christmas tree and decorations.  Part of our Christmas decorating is a laser light placed on the balcony so that it covers the ceiling and one wall with dancing lights in ever changing combinations that appear to be moving, twinkling stars. 

“Bert, come here.  Come look at the lights on the roof.”  I pointed upward and my Bert laughed with delight.  His eyes opened wide with wonder.  As the shapes shifted, as clusters became individual little stars, as the green and blue, and red vied to outshine one another, Bert went right up close to the window and just laughed aloud again.  “They are really pretty”, he said.  I agreed and laughed along with him.

There was a knock.  Our helper was here to get my Bert ready for the day.  Reluctantly he turned and went to the bathroom. A memory inserted itself.  I remembered how my Bert would be ecstatic at the dawn of the Winter Solstice.  Every year he would rub his hands together and laughingly declare: “Hah, tomorrow we will have about two more minutes of daylight.”   It was never the longest night but the shortest day.  My Bert loves light and this holiday season.  He greeted the march to longer daylight with the exuberance of a child.

My holiday wish to you along with health, happiness, joy, love is that you will encounter many small miracles.  May sunshine light your path and happy moments be your constant companions throughout the coming year.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

The Meander:   Every night before bed my Bert laughs with the lights. He will do that tonight. Each time it is a new experience. That is good. This morning my Bert and I held hands and for just a brief moment in time we lived among stars. Worth repeating and we will.

I Am Thankful

Gratitude n. being thankful, appreciation of and inclination to return kindness.

I believe that every day there is something for which we can all be grateful.  It can be small or large, internal or external.  It can encompass all nature, thought, the physical as well as the meditative.  No doubt you have heard the variation of the theme of being alive.  The simple, polite inquiry of: “How are you?” will bring an answer like: “Well, I’m still alive” or: “I woke up this morning so everything is good.” My favourite answer is: “Well, I am still on the right side of the grass.”  That always brings a smile to my face.  I am grateful for that smile.

However, these last few days I have been filled with a special kind of gratitude.  It is one that came after my unwanted but necessary visit to the ER.  I am feeling poorly, in pain and my number one priority is the care for my Bert.  How will I cope?  There are so many little chores to see to, too many to count.   I was worried but I should not have been.   We are blessed by having the sort of neighbours and friends that come to your aid swiftly, competently, caringly, without question.

I am grateful to the Lifeliner who was at the door to pick up the prescriptions and get them filled.  I am grateful for the neighbour who instantly took away the worry of getting my Bert to his Day Programme.  “Just tell me what time to pick him up and I will take him.”   How precious an offer that was.  Here is someone my Bert will find familiar enough to accompany without a fuss.  I can go back to sleep and with the Valium still coursing through my body, I have no choice, really.

Then there is the neighbour who brought dinner in a beautiful wicker basket which had everything including two lovely serviettes, such a cheerful and most welcomed gift.

I am grateful to the Lifeliners who could give practical, hands-on help and those who could not who sent words of cheer, good wishes and prayers.   I even got instructions to turn off the phone.

Once friends heard, the offers kept on coming with a couple wondering why I had not called immediately.  When I explained that I was calling the ambulance at 2 A.M. the reply was: “You can call me at anytime.  You know that.”  Yes, I do and I am grateful.

Our family of friends and neighbours came through like a ray of sunshine to scatter the dust motes of my anxiety.  Yes, we do appreciate the kindness and have more than an inclination to return it.  That is how kindness works.  There is a continuous lightness of being, a positive feeling that things will work out well.  I am grateful to all the people who turned my darkness to light.

Thank you!

The Meander: In this troubled world where everything seems so dark, selfish, and full of hate it is good to be reminded that there are so many more people who are kind, thoughtful, caring and filled with the milk of human kindness.

Alone But Not Lonely

When Ross Weber came on board he was a hirsute, grizzled, denim clad man who seemed rather diffident and cautious in his approach to people.  Soon the whispers and rumours began.  Our floating village was abuzz.

“Did you hear that the lanky, grizzled man is a multi-millionaire?”

“I heard he owned an island that he sold for $32 million.”

“He has never worked in his life.”

“He was a hermit and is just coming out into society.”

It was like a game of Gossip.  In fact that $32 million had grown from $7 million in about three days.  I was fortunate to be among those who got the truth from Ross himself.

I had not paid much attention to Ross except for the usual pleasantries in passing.  Then one night he asked a friend about my origins and she invited him to join our group which met to talk out on deck or in a cozy lounge almost every night.  He came but still does not know much about me as we were too interested in his story.  He opened up to us, speaking in brief sentences and then he said:

“I have two tapes.  They are documentaries about my life.  They have been shown in New Zealand and Australia on T.V.  If you can arrange it you can see them.”  We surmised he was either tired of talking or did not want to go into any details.  He was very shy.

Our Cruise Director was most accommodating and set up a viewing for the next sea day.  We told a few people and it was also announced through the ship’s public address system.  We garnered quite a crowd.

So here is a synopsis of Ross’ story.  Ross had a dream to own a farm.  Farmland on the mainland was very expensive.  At 27 years old he was able to buy his farm and a boat because his farm was the very picturesque Puangiangi Island off the coast of New Zealand’s South Island in the beautiful Marlborough Sounds. Most small islands resemble a cup turned down in a saucer, Puangiangi however, seems to undulate in the incredibly blue waters of the Sounds.  Ross shared his island with his flock of 60 sheep and the local birds.  The sheep provided meat, which he dried as he had no refrigeration and he grew vegetables.  He also grew his own herbal teas and grapes from which he made wine.  After 47 years he sold his island and was cruising around the world for a year.   The interviewer tried to get him to divulge the selling price of his island but was not successful.

While viewing the tapes, my interest peaked when I noticed the number of books in Ross’ rustic home.  The walls were lined with books.  There were books in boxes and other reading material everywhere.  Ross said he spent more than $1000. annually on books and magazines.  Ross showed his watch which he had got with a magazine subscription.  It had no wristband so he carried it in his pocket.  He found no need to get another because: “It still works.”

As Ross fielded questions we learned more about him. He said he was never lonely; that loneliness was for those who had nothing to do.  He said he worked hard and sometimes through the night caring for the sheep, battening down during bad weather, tending his crops and doing the myriad chores necessary for one man, living alone on an island.

Ross was adamant that you should not call him a hermit.  That he was not.  He had yachtsmen and deep sea fishermen visiting him to walk the trails on his island.  A few became friends whose arrivals he anticipated each year.

“They brought me practical gifts and had tea with me.  I had friends.  I had books”.

His conversation was current with a broad view of the world.  He did have television in the last few years and one room with electricity powered by solar power, but the books were what kept him informed.  They were his constant companions.

He was asked about needing companionship. His response was that he met some very nice women but they had other interests, jobs, relatives and did not want to live on his island.  He ended with: “I just didn’t find the right one.  However, I could always find the right book.”

There were those on board who wondered how soon some unscrupulous person would try to separate Ross from his money.  Those were the ones who did not sit with him and see those wise blue eyes look steadily into yours and see beyond the surface.    When asked what would have happened to him in an emergency with a look of surprise he simply said: “You just take care or you die.”  That was literally true as for the first 10 years he had no telephone.

The Meander:  Among the many fascinating people we have met on our travels, Ross is one of the most interesting.   He is living proof that you can live your dream.  He attests to the fact that the best non-human inanimate companion is a book.  As he so often affirmed: “I had my farm.  I had my books.  I lived alone but was never lonely.”

Note:  A version of this post first appeared in the summer 2005 Access, a journal of the Ontario Library Association. 

Lifeliners Friendship Songs

Recently, it seems every Lifeliner  was experiencing something a little beyond the ordinary.  (See Post: My Lifeline) I opened my inbox and there it was in very large and bold print:  LIFELINERS THEME SONG.  Jay had sent it with a beginning note that just said: “Have to share”.  The message contained the entire lyrics of “Thank you for being a friend.”  Immediately The Golden Girls television show came to mind but what resonated was that as I read, the words took on a very special meaning.  They seemed created for us, this little group of Lifeliners.  It was the perfect theme song.  Through the marvels of the internet we adopted it in minutes and were emailing each other saying we were singing as we wrote and signing off with thank you for being a (or my) friend.

In replying to Jay I wrote “…that’s what friends are for and, thank YOU for being a friend…”  Seeing the juxtaposition of the two songs I smiled to myself.  I could picture all of us holding hands and dancing as we sang our newly minted Theme Song.  We do like to dance.  Then I wrote suggesting that we should put together a list of songs of friendship that was illustrative of the special friendship we share.  I am not sure my finger was off the ‘send’ button when Jay responded with a list she found at the following URL: https://www.thoughtco.com/top-friendship-songs-3248289

It was an interesting list as it did contain almost all of the suggestions made by us for our Lifeliners song of songs.  Here is a NOT a playlist but a compilation of Lifeliners friendship songs. The collection ranges from a 1927 song to Bob Marley, Frank Sinatra, Rihanna, Bill Withers and more.  Perhaps, if you are interested you can find out for yourself who sang what if it is not already included in the above URL. Here goes:

I am “Tongue tied” as my Lifeliners “Stand by Me” through thick and thin.  We know “Everybody hurts.” I know that “Anytime you need a friend” a Lifeliner will say “You’ve got a friend in me”.  I am never lonely as “I’ll be there for you” yes, “I’ll be there” is the assurance from each Lifeliner.  “With a little help from my friends”, “I believe I can fly”.   Sure, “The road is long” and hard but, “That’s life” though none of us have any intention to lie down and die.  Rather, on dark days when it is raining tears we will gather together under the “Umbrella”.  When we say: “You’re my best friend”, we say it to each one and also to the group who singly and together are the “Wind beneath my wings.”

We travel this road “Side by side”. We support each other, we share, we care because “That’s what friends are for.”

Lifeliners theme song is “Thank you for being a friend”.  What a precious gift we give to one another.  We are grateful that we can share this giant, amazing “One Love” that lightens the darkness of our unique night and makes us feel alright.

The Meander:  In writing this I realized how closely aligned friendship and love are.  I realized that friendship is the amalgamation of Agape, Filial and Eros those major columns of love.   Friends have been very special all my life.  The best friends just are, no subterfuge no wearing a face. That is the power of friendship.  Friends choose to be friends.  You love them, you like them; you are in communion with them. To all my wonderful friends: Thank you for being a friend.

The Vow

It is a good morning.  By the time I had finished my shower my Bert had made the bed and was ready and waiting for his bath.  Now breakfast was done and my Bert was sitting, waiting for me to put in his hearing aids.  He looked out the window and said: “It is a beautiful day. The sun is shining. I love this place. It is quiet.”  He smoothed the table cloth and says: “I love this table cover. It is cheerful. This is my favourite shirt. I love my shirt.  You look nice. I love you. You don’t know how much I love you”.  He was smiling. I smiled at the diction of my wonderful toddler/husband and was impelled to write:

The Vow

I will be patient, kind and loving

I will remember “It is the disease”

I will laugh with, talk with, and share with,

I will see an adult who is facing challenges not a recalcitrant child

Even if that‘s the reality.

 

I will not brush off, nor ignore

I will feed and clothe and soothe

I will encourage and praise

I will entertain and join in games

Even when I am tired

 

I will sing a lullaby and blow a kiss

I will mime a story and be silly to jog a memory

I will accept the illogical as the new logic

I will coerce the abnormal to be normal

Even though I reject it

 

I will love and cherish as promised

I will make our home a safe and warm place

I will be wife but accept that I am mother too

I will endure to the end

Of him or me.

 

The Meander:  I see a steady and continuing metamorphosis.  A thief is robbing the faculties.  I note the weakened senses leading to confusion and bewilderment.   I see how much has been diminished, how the familiar terrain is becoming a strange and arid landscape.  I am first row center as this terrible disease plays out its act of destruction.  Yet that appreciation of the simple things and his love epitomizes My Bert.  Yes, the disease may be the victor of the body but not of YOU.

My Bert has been keeping his vow without fail.  I will try to keep mine.

Gibraltar and Dreams

“Phew!  That piece of fish was as big as a surf board.  I can’t believe I ate the whole thing and most of the chips too.”

This was perhaps our fourth or fifth visit to Gibraltar, The Rock, and as usual we had just finished a late lunch at Roy’s Cod Plaice (sic) in the main square.  It was almost a ritual.

Another ritual was to walk to the corner where this jolly, Cockney fellow sold inexpensive watches. The first time we met he offered me one of his $10.00 watches.  I told him I had just bought one in a store just up the road. “Hahah, I bet you paid a lot more for it and it tells the same time.”  Everyone laughed.  Again we listened to his spiel before buying another $10.00 watch.  But now it was time to return to our ship.

Too full, read lazy, to walk to the shuttle service pick up point, we hailed a cab and requested to be taken to the pier. Immediately, and as is his norm, Bert started a conversation.

“Where do you think we come from?”

“America”

“No, no!  We are Canadians but I want you to guess where we were born”.  After a few tries Bert told our driver he was from the Netherlands then asked him: “Where do you think my wife was born?”

The driver smiled and said: “America”.  A laugh and then: “Wrong again.  My wife is from Jamaica.”

“Jamaica! Jamaica!  Do you know the Papine Market?”  I looked at him in amazement. “Of course, I do.  How do you know it?  Have you been there?”

“No, my lady.  My mother was an evacuee to Jamaica during World War II.  She lived in Gibraltar Camp and every Saturday she would go to shop at the Papine Market.  She always talked about her time in Jamaica, about the food, the fruits, the wonderful, kind people.  She loved it.

There were tears in his eyes as he spoke of his mother who had died recently.  He refused our fare.  He kept holding on to my hand and shaking Bert’s hand for a long time.

A year later I was introduced to Dr. Diana Cooper-Clark, a Professor at York University and Jamaican by birth. We bonded immediately.  It happened that Diana was in the middle of doing research on Gibraltar Camp, Jamaica’s role in the Holocaust and the Jewish refugees, most from Poland and the Netherlands who were housed at the Camp.

The recently published (2017) Dreams of Re- Creation in Jamaica: The Holocaust, Internment, Jewish Refugees in Gibraltar Camp, Jamaican Jews and Sephardim, is the result of Diana’s more than 18 years of meticulous research and her commitment to bring this little known piece of Holocaust history to light.  It is at once a paean to her Jamaican background, a lifeline for the survivors, education for Jamaicans and the world, a moment in history captured for posterity and recorded with love and respect for the survivors, their descendants and the Jamaicans who enfolded them in love during a terrible time in history.

Dr. Cooper-Clark took some survivors and descendants  to Jamaica for a reunion in November 2016.  Yes, they visited Papine Market, the camps and St. Andrews Girls School, one of the schools the children attended courtesy of the Jamaican government and the generosity of Jamaican Jews. She tells of the many tears shed as they remembered.  Observe Diana as she talks of the reunion and you can see this is one moment in her life forever indelibly engraved in her heart.

The Meander:  Serendipity? Coincidence?  I do not know.  Gibraltar Camp is now part of the Mona Campus of the University of the West Indies, Jamaica.  Many students have gone to lectures at Gibraltar Hall, have walked Gibraltar Lane and Path have seen the old ruins, remnants of the little city on the banks of the Hope River without knowing their import.  Diana has given face and substance to the place, the buildings, the people, and the times.  This is history with heart.

Just one more thing for me to do to close this particular circle:  I will be sending a copy of Diana’s book to the John Mackintosh Hall Library – the only public library in Gibraltar.  Who knows?  Maybe that taxi driver will see it and read it and fill in the gaps of his mother’s story.