Dreaming on Mother’s Day …..

I would like to be able to cause meetings of our people with their ancestors, have them be able to talk with Nanny, and Bogle with Marcus and Bob. I’d organize a grand seminar and take people from speaker to speaker, to say “see her over there, that’s Harriet Tubman, there is Mahatma Gandhi. Over there is Norman Manley and that is his son Michael. Come with me guys let us go and hear Nelson Mandela, Desmond Tutu, Martin King, come let us listen to Judy Mowatt’. We would hear from Anne Frank, and Ellie Wiesel I would have them talk to the Palestinian people of Gaza, have them swap tunnel stories with the folks from Tivoli, to the folks from Rwanda and Sierra Leon, so they could compare losses of limbs and families.

I would be able to fly everyone to the top of the Blue Mountains, to the waters of the Rio Cobre and Grand, to whisk them around Mystic Mountain and feed them at Sandals we would let the children play in the Cockpit Country of Trelawny hopscotch to Portland’s Blue Hole rest at Treasure Beach in St. Elizabeth do Dunn’s River and Ys . We would indulge at Faith’s Pen and Boston and reconvene in Mandeville or at New Castle or Strawberry Hill or Hellshire, for an evening of discussion. We would chat with Usain Bolt and Newton Marshall. There I would introduce guest with whom each could have private time. I’d say “here is Siddartha Gautama , in that room is Christ and over there is Mohamed.” I would allow them to vent with folks like Claudius Massop and Aston Marshall and Jim Brown. I would listen to their stories, acknowledge their triumphs lament at their grief.

I would invite them for a last stop. We would head to the Jubilee Hospital. There we would meet the most powerful of human forces, the newest born Jamaican babies and say to all. “Folks, you now choose your path, I recommend that you take your cues from these little ones, all they want is love and that’s all that you need.”