The Big Fug, hometown of another life, recently recalled me, with promise of new lives. My big son Sam joined the ranks of the married last weekend–and what is an absent father good for, if not to put in an appearance at the nuptials? It was a family occasion close to the heart of this old Jewish Creole, as the Levite tribe extended its rhizomes into the unforeseeable future.
My daughter-in-law–Miss Claudia–can claim roots in Somalia as well as her mother's country England, so I'm anticipating that long-awaited third generation, which will truly span the globe. I'm all for the mixing of genes and meeting of peoples so necessary in these divisive times and am proudly looking forward to the time when my extended family embraces east and west Africa, India, the Jewish and African diasporas as well as Europe and the Caribbean.
The long hop across the Atlantic began as an early morning crawl, with a two am alarm to get me to Piarco in time for the vagaries of the first LIAT flight out to Barbados. Arriving before breakfast, I had a whole day to kill before my connection to London and I found my way out of Grantley Adams and across the road to Pug's rumshop and a front row seat for the Red Steel versus Talawas match.
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