Little toy store.

It's that shop you can't walk by without further investigation.

This community calls itself a town, and in most ways it is. There's a Walmart (a sure sign of commercial critical-mass in North America), two dedicated supermarkets and an equal number of pharmacies. The Salvation Army runs a high-turnover thrift shop and parking meters get converted into free Holiday gifts.

A lone McDonald's duels with two vibrant Tim Horton's, and a similar number of Chinese restaurants offer prosaic Asian comfort food. There's a cosmo-style sushi joint, a branch of most leading Canadian Banks, and main street has at least one of every other establishment typical of such locales.

But in other ways the town is more like a bigger village. You get that sense coming to the occluded streetfront window. Fresh. Innocent. Exciting. The little toy store represents everything that's charming about a place with a population of 16,000 and the magic only gets more palpable at Christmas time.














Where there are children there should be beehive destinations like this. Inside, a honeycomb of busybees doing what comes naturally. Wide-eyed and laughing. Playing. Praying at Santa.

Maybe my sentimentality this Xmas has been keened by the prominent portents of impending apocalypse we see around us. Gunned down six-year-olds is not only good for the hyperbole business, but also for the business of dreams.

Y'see, adults now have added reason to contemplate the blessing of dreams as motivation in young lives. How much doesn't happen if lives end at six Christmasses?

Magnetic slime. Themed Jigsaws. Dolls. Trinkets. Games, and children to verify their gravitas. For me, that's this Christmas, and my wish for all who read here. May everyone look around through the eyes of a child these holidays. And hug a lot.

Guns and culture.

I started writing this particular post over a week ago, but found the acceleration of time which comes with an approaching yule too intrusive to continue, so it simmered in my drafts folder awaiting revival. And, sooner than expected, here we are.

On that day, NBC sportscaster Bob Costas used his halftime slot to weigh in on the perennial polemic of America's gun culture. Result? Tweeps go apeshit in a manner unseen since the recently concluded, culturally bruising presidential election.

Scant days later America is further traumatized and desensitized by twenty dead toddlers and the latest armed malcontent.

Last week, the gridiron couldn't escape the pall of the public murder-suicide involving a player and his girlfriend. This week, first-grade schoolrooms make an even more shocking pallette. Yet another gun-related tragedy breaks the collective heart of people everywhere, and also, spurs a recurring loop of righteous indignation as the obdurate NRA lobby braces for more heat.

Michael Moore's 2002 docu-treatise "Bowling For Columbine" remains on point in the face of sanctimonious invocations of the 2nd constitutional ammendment. This 18th Century edict is what enshrines and justifies American rights to bear arms today.

It's worth noting, that when said parchment was penned, little was deadlier than a musket and a reload. This elementary school assailant had a Glock handgun, a Sig Sauer, presumably for his second hand, and a Bushmaster semi-automatic rifle. Superfluous, considering  one man has only two hands.

Societal history of weapon proliferation is mostly understood. What is harder to accept, in 2012, is the imperative to protect every individual's inviolable right to wield death.

There are some fantastic opinions bouncing around. "Arm all teachers," "More guns." ... Really? Has the United States become a society of double-0 operatives with licenses to kill?

Special dispensation, while people still get locked up for selling Cannabis seeds and certain kiddie bon-bons remain verboten.















Kneejerk logic sure speaks loudly. It reveals social fears which deeply underpin the constitution rationale. Immutable defense of gun ownership rights reminds me of the intensity around other hot-potato topics, like voter registration, affirmative action or institutionalized Confederate flags. Hmmm.

"They want to take away our culture. Take back America."

It's no accident that the G.O.P., clearly based in Southern State traditionalism, is aligned firmly in favor of firearm freedom. What else does the old-guard have, if not weaponry, to lend some sense of security to its phobias?, though, in fairness, there are also Democrats who dearly defend a damsel's right to a Derringer.

This isn't just political. Pandora is out of the box. The die is cast. American culture is John Wayne, Smith, Wesson, Bonnie and Clyde. Here, the shooting of a leader can morph into romantic lore. Honest Abe, himself felled by a gun, is the Spielbergian subject of big Oscar buzz. Stand Your Ground makes a legal defense but somehow it's tough to find French Brie de Meaux outside of a Zabar's or a Dean and DeLuca delicatessen.


















 Which further fuels my lament. More Limburger, less Luger.

If that seems light, and cavalier, please consider these are words, not bullets. They are meant to stress a cognitive dissonance.

Yes, we all reflect our varied histories but, as times change, it's in our best interests to ammend and update strategies in going forward. This is as true for community as it is personally.

Besides, whatever their use, continuing to treat guns as sacrosanct offers greater opportunity to unstable, trigger-happy personalities, the criminally motivated and the violently inclined. The grief we feel over the Newtown massacre was inflicted by an individual who was all of the above. Legal guns were his tools.

To be sure, it's not only the U.S.A. where this argument rages. Canadians acquire guns too and manage to defy the national stereotype on occasion. And Jamaica, my island of origin, has its own peculiar, illbegotten enamorment with the steel bore. Unsurprisingly, politics is culpable there as well.

 

 

Even One Love talisman Bob Marley, who famously, but figuratively, Shot the Sheriff, and survived a gun-blazing Ambush in the night, curiously assessed some replicas.

Impossible to know for sure what ran through his mind in that moment, but informed imagination tells me he would've given a thoughtful Rasta response to any question of gun culture ...

... "gun culture? guns nuh have no culture."
 

Win. From the pen of Pin.

To say Winston Rekert (1949-2012) had a big life before he met me is a self-centered way to start this remembrance, but the times I worked with Win altered the tone for what has become my life.

In fact, he was one of the first cultural touchstones I identified in my early years in Canada. Before I knew what all the fuss was with this Wayne Gretzky guy, I was ardent about Adderley.

Win's charismatic presence and sense of humor overcame the limitations of a nascent local television industry and made him cool enough to want to emulate. Canadian, yet still, more.

When I met Win in that hotel audition-room I remember being star-struck, but felt little pressure. Odd to say, but I felt as though it was he who knew me 'cos I watched his show.

 

As it happened, this was a threshold to my personal reinvention.

Neon Rider legend has it that it was Win who ammended my character, conceptually, from a Latino named "Chico" to a Jamaican called "Pin." I will always applaud that foresight.

What other show would encourage my Jamaican accent, hand me a cricket bat, dress me in black with a Lion Of Judah emblazoned on my back, run me against Ben Johnson and let me grow dreadlocks on TV over five seasons?

(Bizarre perhaps, but I been lookin' fi anadda gig like dat since.)

I didn't see too much of the hype-side that Win loved - never even sat in the Ferrari or the Lincoln, but I did know his fatherly, and dedicated, thoughtfulness. There were many hours spent in a defunct North Vancouver gym with Win and trainer Dave, learning how to improve myself through physical effort.

Win moved seamlessly from stage to screen to directing, to teaching - passionate as ever, this was the role in which I most recently saw him. His class was enacting a Neon Rider theme and I went along for the day. I happily recall that this exists somewhere on video. Maybe we did get our sequel after all.

His longtime brother and symbiotic crony, Danny Virtue, says Win gave half the people in Vancouver's film industry their start. If you consider the intangible "ripple effect," I'd say Danny makes a very conservative estimation.

Winston Rekert had a big life after I last saw him too, and by all accounts he had battled his cancer nobly and bravely.

 He was most definitely loved and his legacy liveth.

It's gonna be a long, long winter, for me.

Up around the bend.

Before snow settles on Great White North,

a sunny day pictured, may flatter warm. 

Bright perspective. Ambitious roadside grass,

could too, in the heat of your car,

trade winter-weary wonderment for arrid solstice.

It's good to throw evocative image at the soul,

keep blood flow to tropics of imagination.

Temperate lobes need massage too.  

Leaves on the ground.

Spent verdancy. Can't see forest for bare trees.

Carpet-floor, mossy-rock green. Anticipate a layering blanket.

Then. Remembrance Day scene. Normandy newsreel.

Alice In Wonderland snowball bauble.

Foreboding, even to look outside.

It's gonna be a long, long winter, you see,

as Wailers homage Impressions in

select soundtrack this season. Cold, and dreary, and blue.

 

A longer longtime coming. Simply safe and secure.

Roofs cave in winter without a strong heart.

But turnaround is still fair play,

and full lives continue to grow,

through rotating deep freeze. Long.

Just long enough, 'til time for Tamarack to rewake. 

White house. Black house.

If caution is a characteristic of conservatism, then I must own up to that side of my personality. I sometimes yield to chicken-shit tentativity when expressing observations on the racially polarised landscape we find ourselves living in. But not today.

As one who is given to frequent rumination on such issues, from a perspective of cultural complexity, I'm understandably drawn to, and opinionated on, this discourse - despite assuming a position high above the fray as a proud proselyte of an (admittedly) idealistic tabula rasa (Rasta?). The One Love philosophy.






Racism is the polar opposite of this stance, being based in bias; i.e. the principle of any race's intrinsic preferability over another. Bio-specific minutiae, such as variability in skin-tone and sundry genetic distinctions, are the props it's built on, but racism's broad purview includes cultural corollary to this precept.

Acknowledging that there's a case to be made for racism being a natural characteristic of the human species, there can nevertheless be no doubting that colonial expansion over the last five centuries, for all the wonderful countries founded, also compounded the issue and extended hegemonies, via empire.

In the United States, and other post-colonial societies with historically race-based beginnings, race is a DNA factor that colors culture and political affiliations. Variants apply but this view is through black 'n' white specs.

Sensitivities surround the word racist, even when used as mere explanation. It tends to trigger soul-denial, and render generalization and selective memory powerful psychological tools in the struggle for representative power.

This has fostered a proliferation of codified, and not so codified pejoratives. The establishment of an African-American POTUS has laid bare nerves beneath a filmy epidermis of equanimity, as this remarkable democracy seeks to retain its ascendancy.















"Communist," "dictator," "terrorist," "thief," are nouns from only one comment-thread, in one disaffected right-wing article parsing the 2012 re-election result, but I've seen several such. The same thread is decorated with adjectives like "evil" and "ruthless," with more than one bright spark styling Barack Obama as "Anti-Christ" ("read your bible") and "Son of Lucifer" ("666 - The Beast").

I'll deliberately avoid rehashing cretinous diatribes on magic negroes, bones in the nose, monkeys, makers/takers and nooses. 

So help me Jah, I couldn't make this stuff up. Wry smile. More.

One of the things I grapple with in this climate, is the reluctance of so many white American voters to draw the connection between a Republican vote and a racial slap-in-the-face. In light of palpable idiocy and ill-concealed hatred from right-wing ranks, I'm ecstatic at G.O.P. misery at the polls. Even if Mitt Romney was a financial magician, it would've been regrettable to empower the social luddites and those who refuse to take them to task.

For sure, there is no economic prosperity worth sacrificing social propriety for, and none achievable without it.

The sting in the tail here is, if anyone points out how suspicious this vitriol is, toward Obama's frequently referenced heritage, the charge of racism gets defensively leveled at them.

















Let's get one thing straight. Racists tend to use the unqualified term "reverse racism" with impunity. It deflects the onus of understanding by identifying pushback as the primary impetus. This only serves to perpetuate ignorance and impasse.

"Liberal" and "conservative" are not bad words, nor mutually exclusive from racism, but it does seem difficult for the latter to transcend or decry bigotry. So much so that Obama optimists get accused of being divisive and disingenuous when it's patently clear who really is. Witness voter allegiance.

It's sad, demoralizing, polarizing, undignifying, yet still, somehow fascinating and instructive just how much adrenaline an American election can inject into this dialectic. Nearly all of old Confederacy voted Republican, and a vast majority of non-whites ("minority" is a misnomer now) voted Democrat.

Americans, of the United States, deserve less entrenchment.
 

... happy Halloween, sweetcup ...

... here-a-pumpkin, there-a-pumpkin, everywhere-a-pumpkin-pumpkin ... folks in Canada really do get into some Halloween, so much so, to go along with vicious vampires, greedy goblins, wicked witches and bulk-buy bon-bons, Canadian avenues, streets and lanes seem positively paved with pumpkins ...

... hyper-excitable children, dressed like embryonic cosplay conventioneers, race around sub-divisions - the more dense the habitats the better, with yawning sacks spilling sugary treats - woe betide the neighbourly soul who attempts to dole out ... fruit ...

... apples, bananas, mandarin oranges, raisins, nuts? - "nuh-uh, trick or treat buster, what else can ya show me?" ...

... well, ask me that question and I'll tell you of a worthy fruit that grows on the tropical passiflora maliformis vine, which also yields passion fruit, granadillas and a hard-shelled, green delectable called sweetcup ... 

... contemporary Halloween festoonery comes to mind however, when I picture the marble-sized wild varietal, also known as sweetcup ... sought out in the wild, and coveted by kids (big and little) in Jamaica, the soft orange shell, exposed from its unearthly-looking protective nest, has a markedly pumpkin-like appearance, and the edible grey, flesh-covered, slippery seeds inside even look like brain-matter too ...

... slurp clean with the tongue, no need to chew ...

... a sweet-slimy swallow, mmmm ... BOO! ...

... she sells cheesecake by the seashore ...

... the real-time web-interview lasted just over one hour ... seems some people can't live without periodic updates on their favourite castmembers from Stargate franchises ... one question put to me was, "what would people be surprised to learn about you?" ...

... my unimaginative answer went straight for the mildly anachronistic fact that I have a Geography/Archaeology Bachelor's degree, but I could just as easily have spoken about my predilection for analog audio - the type preserved in concentric grooves on retro-vinyl platters known as records ...

... my overwhelming preference is, not surprisingly, for Jamaican music-forms, but my tastes are eclectic enough to embrace multiple genres, which makes for a large collection of diverse direction ... no longer the reigning format of issuance, records are now irreverently found (if at all) in dusty corners of thrift-stores, junk-shops and clearance-houses ... 

... on a recent excursion to one such emporium, which has yielded a full set of sharp kitchen knives, sundry furniture items and utilitarian bric-a-brac, I made a foray into the boxes of forlorn LP's, in search of a way to turn one dollar into its weight in gold ... emerging grimy, but clutching a dank smelling sleeve which would regress me to the early/mid 1950's ...

... y'see, these were times when Bob was still in short pants, Ska and Rock Steady weren't yet heard, and a word like "Reggae" might have earned you a straight-jacket for sheer randomness ...

 

... back then, indigenous music in Jamaica was called Mento, a more afro-percussive folk-style than the popular Trinidadian sound-of-the-day, but similar to the casual ear and consequently often marketed as Calypso ...

 

... as it turns out, this relic really is as represented, cool calypso, significantly featuring typical ribald lyrics and uncredited vocals from Gene Wolcott a.k.a. The Charmer (later to become Louis Farrakhan, Nation Of Islam leader), among others ...

 

... I've noticed copies of this relatively rare record sell online at prices ranging from $20 to $150 depending on condition of the playing surface and the state of the cover ...

 

... and indeed, it is that cover that leads anecdotally to a most titillating tease to this curious collector ... 

 

... chiffon shrouded show-girl Venus LaDoll, who graces the front, proves an enigmatic enough figure to outshine calypsonians ... my research reveals beguiling photos of this dancer-cum-comedienne turned burlesque stripper, whose act held "hip-tossing" sway in and around the years 1953-1955 ...   

 

... the sexy pics and the "bump and grind" descriptives, by themselves, would've been sufficient to keep my interest ... but ...

... "let them eat cheesecake!" could be the post-script riposte, as this lady, who reportedly tripled her income by embracing the time honored art of striptease, may be best remembered for being awarded "a small fortune" by a food manufacturer after testifying in court that she found a bug in a can of potted ham ...

... yep, y'heard it here kids, record collecting can be fun ...

 

... a cure fi di fever ...

... since I began these Ackeelover Chronicles, cyberspace has coughed up a few life-lessons that have required some handling ... this blog is more than an exercise in writing, a public outlet for stream-of-thought on a variety of topics that infect my mind, it's turned into a vehicle for my learning as well ...

... feedback from the readership skews positive, with mild critique aimed at my chosen style of prose - eschewing capital letters to begin sentences, favoring instead consistent use of ellipses (...) to separate thoughts, sentences and paragraphs ...

... what lies behind the final interface though, beyond the building of riveting content and pithy copy, is a technical battle to thwart the malice, malfeasance and malediction that would compromise a sincere web-publishing effort ...

... searchable cache, which hoards remnant rants of a mentally-challenged Australian Stargate fan whose attentions toward me went far beyond the acceptable, underscores my paranoia ...

 

... it's hard not to see the-ghost-of-malevolence-past when confronted with suspicious-site warnings, such as the one that greeted viewers of this blog recently, but the new malady proved to be from an entirely different malefactor ...

 

... malware - loosely speaking, malaria for computer systems ...

 

... fortunately, there's a fix for this fever ... vigilance, tenacity, technical expertise and time to decipher dense diagnostic forum-threads for helpful antidote ... this is the unglamorous side of blogging, and it doesn't come with a futuristic bug-bustin' suit ...

 

... but it's a relief to rout malignancy for a clean bill o' health ...

 

... dining at the DIY ...

... one of the highlights of the televised Whitney Houston memorial service not so long ago was a moving testimonial courtesy of "The Bodyguard" co-star Kevin Costner ...

 

... last night, the A-list actor won a 2012 Emmy Award for his lead role in "Hatfields and McKoys" which was filmed in Romania, a practical manifestation of an earlier homily from Costner's film "Field of Dreams"..."if you build it, they will come" ...

 

... while I try to remain optimistic for my own Emmy-nom, I recall the sage advice of my grandmother who colloquially noted that in fallow times one should ... "tun yu han' mek fashion"...

 

... fusing these two inspirational sayings successfully can lead to a cool payoff, as proven by the home-made dining-room centerpiece in the bay-window of our new condo ...

 

... aside from raw materials, the main ingredient is expertise ... in this case, Uncle Rick, a ridiculously talented craftsman with experience, magnanimity and a can-do approach, was up to the task of marshalling this eager apprentice ...

 

... a hand-crafted trestle base, topped by Uncle Bill's salvaged solid-core door, required strategic augmentation and cosmetic touches before being painted semi-gloss, cloud-white to match similarly re-coated hand-me-down ladderbacks ...

 

... we built it, so I guess they'll come - for thanksgiving dinner ...

 

*** JAMAICAN GLOSSARY ***

"tun yu han' mek fashion"- (lit.) turn your hand make fashion

- be creative, use ingenuity to make something out of nothing

... who's that cockatoo? ...

... this story is a synergy of sartorial synchronicity, since, despite the occasion, I might have actually stayed at home if there wasn't something fly to wear ...

... I was leaning toward all-black default safety when my one-of-a-kind Mark Collins tailored shirt squawked audibly, "wear me!"...

... the vivid motif evokes body-ink and, in lieu of not having any tattoos, I was definitely into rockin' the rad patterns by proxy ...

... Mark and I are of similar stature and he's seen my personal style, so he was able to fashion a prototype garment and deliver it directly to me across the Atlantic courtesy of Marisol, a friend from London who was visiting ... I had it within a week ...

... sporting my exclusive chemise, atop Duck and Cover black denim bought in Melbourne, a belt by s.Oliver that cost a fiver in a Northampton thrift-store and road-tested Clark's booties, this freebird was ready to frolic on the fringes of TIFF2012 ...

... naysayers aside, overall ensemble feedback was positive ...

... I'm pretty sure the colorful eyewear accessory by Adult Supervision put the finishing touch on a persona that was dubbed "cockatoo" by one who proffered comment ...

... in addition to suggestive breakdown of the word, cock-a-too, research into traits of this prized pet parrot is revealing ...

- beautiful, intelligent showoffs - can live over 70 years

- brains need stimulation on a daily basis

- social, affectionate ... thrive on being handled, loved and petted

- expect a lot of physical and emotional attention

- curious and, if allowed, will learn to manipulate you

... moose on da loose ...

... yeah, we all know living out here can be quite harsh,

despite free food aplenty in the rat-pond marsh,

but who doesn't love summers in Algonquin Park,

just don't try to cross highways, especially after dark ...

... I love bucolic lunchtimes on the Canadian Shield,

doin' what I do makes me outstanding in my field,
heh, heh ... stock-still I'm like a picture in a book,
or, I can turn my neck to assume a typical look ...

... of course you guys will stop - stay long as you want,

see my young antlers? ... I'm healthy, not gaunt.

is it such a thrill to watch me graze on tall grass?

hang on a minute ... must you point that lens at my ass? ...

... alright folks, look, I'll turn around, I'll co-operate,

cos' there's one pet-peeve I simply won't tolerate,
too many photos, with none of my good side,

so wait, I'll move closer since it's too late to hide ...

 

... okay, no sudden movements, one line, single file,

just so you know, I only pose once-in-a-while,

there's this cool backdrop, framed by some trees,

take some shots snaps, then on your way ..."cheeese" ...

  

... I'm the main attraction, so I'll flash my best smile,

yep, this mug's got 'em all beat - by a country mile.

 'round here there's the odd beaver and goose, nothin' more,

y'all actin' like y'never seen a loose moose before! ...

... time for a new sankey ...

... a joke making the rounds of late has the International Olympic Committee considering the adoption of a buzzer system to begin races at future events, having concluded that the sound of a starter's gunshot gives Jamaicans an edge in sprint events ...

... part of the reason this jest resounds, albeit uncomfortably, is that the scenario reflects a certain degree of plausibility to anyone familiar with social ills on the island paradise ... post-facto attention (a press feature this morning remembers folkloric criminal figures Sandokhan and Natty Morgan) and crucial pop-culture continuity, keeps a sensational eye on seamy truth ...

... self-satisfied images of Brand Jamaica out of the 2012 Olympics in olde London, a city shaped in all its tradition and modernity by influences from disparate humanity, have been breathtaking and stimulating, not only in the athletic realm, but also culturally ... Danny Boyle's dense opening ceremony set the stage with an admixture of basic acknowledgement, tapping touchstones from Windsor to Windrush ...

... this was indubitably a more colorful Great Britain on display ... a Jamaican aboard a double-decker bus in pre-independence London was more likely to wear a conductor's standard issue than the ubiquitous Cedella Marley urban-casuals of today ...

... The Games themselves, personified by characters like Bolt and Phelps, not to mention Walcott, James, Rudisha and homies Murray, Daley and Mo, proved both gladiatorial and gamin ... Shelly-Ann and the women surpassed suffragette city with historic heroism and hijabs, and through it all there was the sense of this being a threshold opportunity, for the consolidation of Caribbean cultural expression and sovereign self-respect ...

... predictably though, 'cos it's only natural and we've felt this way before, the lyric "back to life, back to reality" from Soul 2 Soul's mellifluous 1989 smash hit comes to mind when we try to assess where to go from here ... reality in life can be coldly sobering, particularly when highs are so lofty and lows so entrenched ...

... every day, since Jamaican runners reached their respective pinnacles, there has been post-mortem, with various pundits trying to extrapolate consequence from the collective plaudit ...

... analyses and tributes abound, in print, poem and song ...

... Tommy Lee, the latest musical spokesman to capture the spirit of youthful hype in Jamaica's virile dancehall scene, has revamped his current hit "Psycho" to lyrically laud sprint speed ... for him, any tie-in to the internationalization of Gaza-hands by Usain and his acolytes is surely not an unwelcome career filip ...

... to my ear (and you may just want to accept ackeelover's word for this) the adaptive re-mix represents a positive shift away from the controversially graphic bravado of the original release, and Tommy's mad style is more than swag enough to fill the void left by the currently incarcerated Vybz Kartel ...

... the joys of nationhood and independence run concurrent with insidious indenture to the "shit-stem" (another Peter Tosh-ism), and, malaise related to perpetual poverty creates an identifiable dichotomy in the present-day Jamaican personality ... affable patriotism goes hand-in-hand with battle-hardened survivalism ...

... if the Bolt of lightning brightening our skies at this moment illuminates anything, it is that we will continue to "sing our own song" (as the upful, apartheid-era UB40 opus rolls through my subconscious) ... and, lifted by the breakthrough achievements of our talented brethren and sistren, we must look to adapt for the prosperity of the next half-century, and fly beyond ...

... it's time to sing that new sankey ...

JAMAICAN GLOSSARY

the "shit-stem" - the system

"sankey" - song (typically of the revivalist, spiritual variety)

"indubitably" - definitely not Jamaican, but I couldn't resist

... of buttless chaps and a band called Vag ...

... sexy is in the eyes of the beholder, and who doesn't fancy a bit of sexy? ... the thing is, one man's meat is another man's poison, to co-opt a phrase that conjures a graphic image (in this context), even as it flirts with sexism and moral judgement in its polemic ...

... a Caribbean upbringing can make you familiar with public enactments of overt sexuality, notwithstanding restrictive colonisation of the collective mind via instilled religious text ... if you've attended explicit Jamaican dancehall street-events, or sweaty Trini Soca carnivals, you can attest:  public fora where carnal expression asserts license to step out and override long established standards of Judeo-Christian moral propriety ...

... correspondingly, such contrast is also observed in Canada, a Commonwealth pillar with a cold, staid rep - it's demonstrably apparent around increasingly outre Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) populations flourishing in Canadian cities, in particular, those hosting annual festivals dubbed PRIDE ...










... well, clearly, some men have as much pride in their buttocks as some women have in their breasts, if I'm to guage by the range of al fresco body parts on display during unavoidable PRIDE celebrations in Toronto (that is unless you're mayor Rob Ford, who's sure to be awol for the fun) ... in fairness, urban nudity may be as much about personal liberation as exhibitionism, but one can't be sure of motive, thereby stoking opinion, pro and con ...

... the relative anonimity of an outdoor street-festival, in a mixed crowd, swollen by thrill-seeking out-of-towners and local looky-loos, supports a carefree approach to romping revelry, so it shouldn't be at all surprising to find the full gamut of expression, in search of what amounts to hedonistic un-selfconsciousness ...















... a band of putative pussies, calling themselves Vag Halen, cranking out rock covers, was on one side of a stand of unisex port-a-potties ... on the other side was a parking-lot session blaring hip-hop and gruff dancehall (uh huh, dancehall - as in triple-threat Beenie, Bounty and Buju, a newly-out Diana King and the somewhat gayly-named Terror Fabulous) ...

... this suggests that a not-so-silent detente in sexual politics, a sort of gradual gay glasnost, is actually possible at a grass-roots level, if our drift to judgement is left to Jah. Even conceding that, on some level, we can all be given to subjective prejudice ...

... it's been a couple dozen years since I was first exposed to this culture by a secure lesbian cousin ... proximity to related events in Vancouver, L.A. and Sydney hadn't enticed me back, so this time I noted certain significant developments ... cliches remain, evident in droves, but the crowds today tend to be augmented by families and observers who can see the specter of "queer" without feeling hatred, rancor or threat ... to say that this occasion was inclusive, if a tad raunchy, would be an understatement ...

... piggy-backing, as PRIDE does, with Canada Day's exultant, flying Maple Leaf ensigns, ubiquitous beavers and mooses, helps to compound a general theme of celebration ... still, the most prevalent personal identifiers were rainbow-hued hairstyles, tats, tits, tit-tats and tiaras, with the occasional mustachioed cowboy dude swinging his lasso at submissive lasses for good measure ...

... in the bigger window of a wider world, notable homo-promo avowals by the likes of media-personalities Anderson Cooper and Don Lemon have become expected, if not commonplace, affecting neither their respective credibilities, such as they are, nor the proverbial price of rice in China ... much less, corrupting our impressionable youth at home or abroad ...

... talented, emergent R&B poet/singer Frank Ocean, who has made similar revelations, may actually raise his stock by doing so proactively ... Generation Next will always look back at the seductive sixties sexual revolution and Haight-Ashbury's hippie, free-love-in-the-park sensibility as a template to dress up or down as it chooses ... after all, is "choice" not the key to freedom? ...

 

... United States President Barack Obama's recent ballsy pronouncement, in regard to his personal views on same-sex marriage, is unlikely to stem opposition to this type of union, due to dominant heterosexual perspective ... however, the more these concepts get an airing, in America, Canada or the Caribbean, is the less shocking they become, just as images of topless women, references to vaginas, penises and natural body-functions, are, in time, likely to make fewer people blanch or blush ...

... while all the world watched Europe ...

... "typical," I somewhat facetiously tweeted, "World watches Euros while global future hinges on Antigua vs. Jamaica" ...

... hashtag references to "CONCACAF" and "Euro2012" kept the tweet pertinent to the topic at hand, football, the beautiful game, mere soccer to a non-believer but nothing less than bloodless warfare to legions who take the sport seriously ...

... here, during the height of competition between European topdogs, was this unrelated match-up oceans away, a first-leg World Cup qualifier between two island-nations with aspirations to make the really big show, still two full years away ...

... World Cup 2014 in Brazil, the Garden of Eden of footballing mythology, is the intended destination, and reaching the finals is an achievement Jamaica can boast of from their 1998 apogee ...

... hosts Antigua and Barbuda, playing at this level for the first time, adapted the cricket stadium in the centre of the island for home games ... the modest, yet modern, facility named in honor of most famous son Sir Vivian Richards, a titan of cricketing culture, contrasts to the stadia of Europe, but just add water, goalposts, FIFA banners - presto, bonafide ballground ...

... the topographical factoid of the multi-strip cricket square in the middle of the park is something all West Indian ballers will have encountered at some point ... no problem, right? ...

... bookies playing odds would have Jamaica's seasoned Reggae Boyz schooling their less storied counterparts from Antigua, the Benna Boys, on the way to taking a maximum three points from this important encounter ... at least, that was the script ...

... most of the festoonery decorated the Western stands, the crowd concentrated there too, with local support dominating over the Jamaican presence, but the colors were blended and familiar, this being a clash of Caribbean cousins ...










... build-up to gametime had been intense and steady ... balletic referee rituals entertained the sparse eastern stands pre-game, while Antigua ran through calm, collected calisthenics at one end, in eye-catching red warm-up kits ...

... I had tuned in to Jamaican FM Radio, a few days prior to this initial round of matches, and astonishly heard questions alluding to "small-island" designs on football power in the region being put to Gordon Derrick, the new head-honcho in Caribbean Football Union politics ... did I mention he's Antiguan? ...

... and so our stage was set ...

... on the afternoon, someone had the forethought to position a winsome videographer and her equipment adjacent to the ad hoc, flicky-tricky scrimmages Jamaica prefers as final preparation ...

... I watched as she got some delightful footage, but felt I could also discern conflict of focus in that moment, and no real respect for the contest at hand, from the preening, cocksure black, green and gold, who had to defer their traditional yellow strip ...

... the spotlight shone even brighter with the attendance of Jamaican Prime Minister Portia Simpson-Miller in sporty topstitching, and Horace Burrell of the JFF, who presided over the National Anthems and wished the Boyz 'n' Boys well ...

... then came time to kick the pigskin ...

... there was no Shevchenko on the field (though he owns a home in Antigua and is frequently here), no Ronaldo, Balotelli or Schweinsteiger either, unless they were wearing Jamaica shirts which had no names to identify or represent players who it seems, also switch squad-numbers ...

...  #5 in the warm-up came on as a substitute, wearing #4 ...

... my guess is that this subtly undermines key psychologies in young men who are part of notoriously star-driven cultures, football in general and Jamaican Football specifically ... Antigua got this part right - Byers, Griffith and James enhancing their reputations, with Nottingham Forest's Dexter Blackstock reserved for tactical insertion into the game ...

... the pacey Jamaicans, many of whom look to be of genuine technical ability, had no evident plan to reel in these sprats (or minnows, the term you'll hear most often to describe a population of 80,000 audacious enough to field a football team) ... the result was an even nil-nil scoreline which reflected positively on a sensible, spirited performance by the home-team ...

... the visitors left behind a considerably different aftertaste ahead of sterner tests, including the return leg against the newly emboldened Benna Boys, on the Road to Rio ...









... amid the flag waving and good natured support of a team defying predictions, were many Jamaicans who expect more from their national side ... despite being fitter than previous aggregations, the Reggae Boyz would do well to develop a disciplined mental approach which will allow them to adapt more successfully to diverse opposition ...

... the Benna party went deep into the night and next morning's press headline read "We got one!," referring to the first-ever point earned at this level of competition ...

... it's Spain and Germany holding fans in their thrall, for now, as this scoreless match is already old news ... Antigua takes on Guatemala next and Jamaica will seek to rock 'n' roll the U.S.A. in Kingston, but two points dropped at the cricket ground are likely to have more consequence than the one gained ...

... a yah so nice ...

... it wasn't too long ago that topflight reggae family Morgan Heritage had a massive hit song which answered a Norwegian visitor's legitimate query as to why so many Jamaicans seem to favor the facial expression known as "screwface" ... as is true of many a straightforward question, answers can be inconclusive, even contradictory ... such is the discrepant nature of this remarkable place, dubbed Xaymaca (Land of Wood and Water) by the original Arawak inhabitants ...

... after indicating specific harsh realities of life in contemporary Jamaica comes the song's chorus, a response in the form of a question, "... do you see anything fi smile 'bout?" ... in truth, centuries of colonial and post-colonial forces have shaped this nation like penknife-whittled wood ... natural habitats are now compromised by humans, as elsewhere, and survivalism is honed to correlate to the landscape, both geographical and cultural ...

... yet, visceral beauty remains a defining feature of the island ...

... that beauty is binding energy for Jamaicans everywhere ...

... from personal observation, you certainly can take the man out of Jamaica but you can't take the Jamaica out of the man ... this is because the zeitgeist we exhibit today actually melds that which some feel we've lost, namely, old-world traditions forged from empire, and combines them with the inevitable exuberance of the unleashed ... the social result isn't monolithic but is, at least partially, painted red, gold and green ... abundant soil, above and below, subtly lavender Lignum Vitae blossoms and flamboyant Poinciana complement a fulsome assortment of fruiting flora ...

... don't get me going on the fruiting flora! ... another day ...

... with due respect to the Morgans, and that cleverly crafted landmark tune, brother Bob Marley's Positive Vibration and Smile Jamaica are my prescribed pick-me-ups for the people in this dispensation of time (as Peter Tosh would say), since 2012 provides a perfect storm for navel-gazing ... if we can hold onto anything learned since Independence, it's that there is always something to smile 'bout ... if your heart can see ...

"picking up, are you picking up now?" - Bob Marley

JAMAICAN GLOSSARY

"a yah so nice" - literally, "here is nice"

(handle with care, may also refer to erogenous zones)

"screwface" - facial expression of displeasure/skepticism

(may be shortened to "screw"- not commonly sexual, but hey ...)

Lignum Vitae - a rock-hard tree

(the blossoms are Jamaica's National Flower)

Poinciana - charmingly known as Flamboyant in Antigua

zeitgeist - not Jamaican, but cool anyway
(smile)