My Family

 

 

I know a certain family

That hailed from Branker’s Gap,

They were fed in earnest

On stew food and corn meal pap.

 

Everton was the father

And he married a pretty girl,

Her name is Violet

She is a precious pearl.

 

The children numbered seven

Two are now deceased,

Only girl among the crew

Still batting at the crease.

 

It’s a happy family

Full of love and unity,

Carl, Mac, Mylan and Harriet

Then comes silly me.

 

 

Hear the truth of the matter though,

Stewart is not the craziest,

The one whose name is Mylan

Believe me, he is the real test.

 

Just to look at him

He’d make you split your side,

Struggling for their breath

Some have laughed until they cried.

 

Some of you speak Spanish

And others may have learnt Greek,

Mylan’s tongue is Chinese

You’d crackup if you hear him speak.

 

Brother Carl is the oldest

Like Mylan he lives overseas,

He too can be crazy

But not like Mylan, if you please.

 

What can I say about Harriet?

She’s our sweet and adorable sis,

She is not crazy like the rest

But she is the only one we kiss.

  

I haven’t forgotten Mac

I’ve just left him for the last,

He’s not as crazy as Mylan

But Stewart Mac’s definitely gone past.

 

 

Dad Russell left in two thousand nine

For eighty-seven years death defied,

Mamma Russell stands at eighty-seven now

Having achieved that just this July.

 

At the time of his passing

Just six months shy of six decades,

Almost sixty years of wedded life

They most certainly achieved top grades.

 

Almost five years since that day

We still hold dear his memory

He was a great husband to Mum

And the responsible head of our family

 

Can we ever forget him?

Certainly not even though life continues,

For much of what we do now

Is still influenced by Dad Russell’s views.

 

Let me back up a little bit

To tell you how it was growing up,

Though poor with many mouths to feed

It was not always a bitter cup.

 

 

There were hard times, yes

But the good times far outweighed them,

Dad and Mum Russell never slacked

In providing for their children.

 

Several aunts also came to our aid

Such as Aunts Baby, Clytie and Lou,

Gran-gran Edna in that company also

And with aunts and uncles came cousins too.

 

Share and share alike

Seemed to have been the motto of this group,

And when times got rough

They sure knew how to review and recoup.

 

From my earliest memories

They had taught us how to care,

Nothing was ever too little

That we weren’t encouraged to share.

 

Dad had set the example

On those nights he bought Ruby’s fish,

Even those who were not at home

Would find theirs in their dish.

 

It was never ever the case

That the one who was out should be home,

His share would still be left

And he could eat it on his own.

 

Birthdays were never forgotten

And Christmas for us was a treat,

Always a gift on your birthday

For Christmas: new stuff from head to feet.

 

 

How can I forget our church excursion?

This was usually held in August,

Moving from the Carrington church

Rain fall or sun shine that was always a must.

 

On these special occasions

It was hard to sleep the night before,

We would just lie in bed awake

Anticipating food, fellowship and fun galore.

 

I could also mention

Guy Fawkes on the 5^th of November,

Bandits, bombs, rockets and more

Boy that was a fireworks night to remember.

 

When family visited from the country

They came with produce from their ground

That was another exciting time

On which all of us would gather around.

 

Well seeing I was the youngest

They would poke real fun at me,

I became the butt of their jokes

And they all thought that was funny.

 

 

I grew tired of them from early

And went to live with my aunt in St Andrew,

My hair was red and I spoke differently,

I was named country buck by the home crew.

 

But one day I grew up too

And they couldn’t have it all their way,

They became the objects of my fun

And more often than not I now have my say.

 

I am the sanest of the boys

Not Mac as most of you may think,

But when we get together

We become a crazy four-fold link.

 

Carl migrated in sixty-two

He returned here in two thousand eight,

Mylan came in to join him

Many nights we were up till late.

 

The first time in forty-six years

The five siblings had been together,

We enjoyed every moment of it

It didn’t matter what kind of weather.

 

 

One Friday night in Oistins

Was an absolutely splendid delight,

We ate fish and traverse the town

Like the tourists do on Friday night.

 

The music was ‘licking down’

But we did not care about that,

We were just happy to be together

After forty-six years and that’s a fact.

 

The four wives cannot be left out

Though the lone husband had passed on,

Patrick, I am sure we’ll see him

At that bright and glorious dawn.

 

  

Dad and mum Russell were delighted

To have the clan under one roof,

Reminded of a time many years ago

Talk about a loving family! That’s the proof.

 

Four beautiful wives standing tall,

Lorraine, Avice, Phylis and Lynette,

It’s a joy to be in this family,

So far I can say that I have no regret.

 

And so the years have rolled on

Bringing another two generations,

This could only have happened

Through the siblings and their relations.

 

Many of our loved ones have gone on

Some young, some old, some in between,

They all have made invaluable contributions

To our aspirations, our development, our dream.

 

We thank you God for your blessings on us

Our family and in-laws over whom we fuss,

Give us direction as for you we live.

All praise, honour and glory to you we give!

 

Stewart Russell © 2014

 

Before and After Retirement

 

 

 

When I started out teaching

I was very weakly paid

Such that at the end of the month

There was not much I had made.

 

It was less than two hundred

When I started to work,

So much less than two hundred

I could justifiably shirk.

 

At the very beginning

There was very little to save,

Having become a working man

I bought whatever I craved.

 

I opened a bank account

To which my pay was sent,

I still lived with my parents

So I did not pay rent.

 

I contributed to the home

Though there were no demands

And for the first few years

The rest flitted through my hands.

 

Scarcely a care in the world

I didn’t pay for my meals

And though my salary was small

I easily met my needs.

 

 

There was little on the account

That I had earlier opened

But I still lived at home

So that was no problem.

 

After eight years of teaching

There was little to show,

It was then that I determined

Time to stop the money flow.

 

Enter the Credit Union

And you know which one too:

The Wesleyan Holiness Credit Union

Now of a “One Heritage” view.

  

That became my nest egg

With an insurance policy or two,

My life after teaching

Suddenly came into view.

 

I started a family

But first I took a wife

And everybody here knows

She is the joy of my life.

 

She was working at the bank

Just where the money grows

But that was no free for all

God in heaven knows.

 

However there were two salaries

Two are better than one,

And into that situation

Our first child was born.

 

Three years hence

Came our second child,

She shall remain nameless

Except on her file.

 

I am telling you all this

So that you would understand

It is difficult to save

When there is such a demand.

 

A home to maintain

With a wife to satisfy

And two children to educate

Need a good money supply.

 

And while you are at it

You must still save for old age

And pay your tithes and offerings

Whatever your stage.

 

National Insurance Security

That was certainly a boss move,

It comes in handy at retirement

I have the evidence to prove.

 

 

And of course, one’s gratuity

That is another nest egg,

That comes in handy too

So that you don’t have to beg.

 

The first thing I noticed though

When I had first retired

Was my income was far more weakly

Than when I was hired.

 

That is the state of the retiree

Pension is far less than one’s salary,

The life before is now no more

The retiree is forced to be thrifty.

 

But you can still live

If you bear some things in mind:

The first one being

The “good times was” another time.

 

The second one is

Don’t flit it all away

For you must always be mindful

“Leave some for a rainy day.”

 

Now you know for sure

That I am no rich man

So if you are looking for money

Find somebody that can.

I am a retiree

And that makes me a pensioner,

It’s one day at a time

For my life that’s the answer.

 

Don’t let retirement catch you

With your pants down,

Prepare for it now

So that then you can still abound.

 

Stewart Russell © October 2018

 

A Chat with the PM

 

 

I had a chat with the PM

Across the old train line

And she was most gracious

In giving me of her time.

 

Those who live in the area

Would know Lovell’s pasture,

Mention the old train line

And they get the picture.

 

She was clearly pensive

As I shared from my heart

And she was an attentive listener

From the very start.

 

I told her I didn’t like her

And then I explained

But as I looked into her eyes

There was no pain.

 

As a matter of fact

She said she understood

And I must confess to you,

I wondered how she could.

 

Almost everything I said

She surprisingly agreed with

And I was most amazed

As it was a lengthy list.

 

I did most of the talking

And she listened well,

She showed genuine interest

I could definitely tell.

 

 

It was like a dream

This audience with the PM

But finally, she had to go

And it came to an end.

 

As you may have guessed

That was my fault,

For I suddenly awoke

And the dream came to a halt.

 

For a moment there

It had felt so real

And had I kept on sleeping

It would have continued

Without fail.

 

Stewart Russell © May 19, 2021

 

Walls

 

 

Walls, walls, walls

Walls of every sort and fashion,

Walls of division and derision

Walls to create separation.

 

Ethnic walls, religious walls

Walls to promote racial slur,

Physical walls, walls imagined

And any other kind preferred.

 

Tall walls and long walls

Walls that go down very deep,

Very difficult to dig under

Impossible to climb, too steep.

 

Fenced in, strong barricades

Walls that cannot be breached,

All outside must stay outside

But keep inside within reach.

 

Walls of colour, walls of class

Stay clear of these dividing lines,

A couple of these walls around today

Remind us of biblical times.

 

 

A city’s strength lay in its walls

As in the case of Jericho,

Tall and broad and deep as well,

A discouragement to any foe.

 

However, today it is different

Well, with one major exception,

No need to mention it, you’d agree

They are bent on its erection.

 

The Wailing Wall is still a fact

The Berlin wall came down,

Today’s focus is not physical walls

But the dividing walls around.

 

Walls erected in our minds

To keep our brothers at bay,

Walls for the powerful and the wealthy

Nothing much the poor can say.

 

All men are brothers, we often say

And we even sing it in a song

But erect walls to keep him out

And we can’t see that this is wrong.

 

The greatest wall is selfishness

The scourge of the human race

And our plunge to degrading depths

Has now become commonplace.

 

Walls, walls, all kinds of walls,

Unaware we’re cutting our own throats,

The destitute and the filthy rich

Are going down on the very same boat.

 

 

A word to the wise is sufficient

It matters not from whom it comes,

Build bridges now instead of walls

And so much more can be done.

 

You may have read in the Word

Of the middle wall of partition,

Between the Gentile and the Jew

There was great contention.

 

But Jesus’ cross was the bridge

That obliterated the middle wall,

Now it matters not the differences

Once we respond to his call.

 

The call to unity in Jesus Christ

Has broken down all these walls,

His peace has made us one in him,

Why not respond to his call?

 

Stewart Russell © July 2019

 

Teaching Approach

 

 

Who determines the approach?

The teacher or the child?

That traditionally it’s been the former

Cannot be seriously denied.

 

The teacher is the jury and judge,

In his classroom he is the law

And when the camel’s back is broken

He also is that straw.

 

And when he does not succeed

It is the child he blames

For the teacher knows what is best

And deserves none of the pain.

 

Armed with degree and experience

His dogmas take control

And any who suggests it’s otherwise

Is considered stupidly bold.

 

Stiff and resistant to change,

Repetition is the hallmark of his craft

And his present claim to fame

Is what he did in the past.

 

The child’s failure is his alone,

He takes no responsibility for such

Because his approach is perfect

And no one could do as much.

 

If you are a teacher like this

Then it is high time that you change,

It’s not the child that you haven’t reached

But you are the one that’s strange. 

 

Take some direction from the child

Regarding the way he learns

And don’t be resistant to the change

After you are better informed.

 

Children learn in different ways

Very unlike yard fowls

Which as they scramble for the corn

Can become very loud.

 

But one will soon come to find out

The ones that are getting corn

And hopefully help the deprived ones

When they are better informed.

 

It is of critical importance

To understand the children you teach

And not regard your station as a pulpit-

Teachers are not called to preach.

 

There is much that a child can teach

Concerning how he learns

But a teacher must rid himself of himself

And be ready and apt to discern.

 

 

“IF A CHILD CAN’T LEARN

THE WAY WE TEACH,

MAYBE WE SHOULD TEACH

THE WAY THEY LEARN.”

 

Ignacio Estrada

(Mathematics Teacher)

 

Stewart Russell © April 8, 2021

 

Rhetoric and Reality

 

Aristotle: 384-322 BC 

Rhetoric and reality are not similar

I am sure you will agree

But we somehow confuse the two

And this rather frequently.

 

Reality is extremely observable

While rhetoric is not

Yet, we set more store by the latter

Than by what is truly our lot.

 

Rhetoric wins elections

And accomplishes great sales

While on the back end of the oration

Reality shows it has failed.

 

When reality requires an explanation

Rhetoric usually complies

And in its readily persuasive way

That reality it denies.

 

 

Rhetoric holds greatest prominence

In politics and the church,

Here you will find its staunchest adherents

And a multiplicity of so-called experts.

 

Rhetoric trumps reality

With the promise that things will change

And if that change does not come about

You must not think it strange.

 

It will come if you believe

Though often none can tell when,

It is just a matter of your believing

And it will happen right then.

 

Rhetoric is the reality

It is more dominant than the real

And fools do suffer intensely

Each time that rhetoric fails.

 

 

However, that does not really matter

Since a promise is comfort to a fool

And rhetoric is the best teacher

You would find in many a school.

 

Let me hastily conclude this matter

And I will end it on this note,

When it comes to rhetoric and reality

Rhetoric will capture most votes.

 

Stewart Russell © January 13, 2021

 

The Sheep Stake Guide

 

 

The sheep-stake guide

I wonder what that could be,

Sheep and stake I understand

But guide I cannot see.

 

An illustration would be best

To help you understand,

It is simple but profound

Though not grandiose or grand.

 

Having been given the task

A field of furrows to cut

The young lad watched the sheep

And ran straight into a rut.

 

 

The furrows were out of line

And as crooked as could be

Whereupon the farmer was annoyed

And extremely angry.

 

“What were you watching?”

The farmer enquired of the lad

Who by this time was crestfallen

And looking quite sad.

 

“What do you mean?”

He asked the wise old farmer

And did not have long to wait

Before receiving an answer.

 

“Reference point,” he said,

“I mean, what was your marker?”

“The sheep,” the lad replied,

Evoking the farmer’s laughter.

 

The lad had seen a sheep

In the field he was furrowing

And took his gauge by the sheep

Oblivious to its moving.

 

 

“Next time used the sheep-stake,”

The farmer wisely advised,

“The sheep follows the grass

But the stake is stabilized.

 

As in that young lad’s case

We can learn a lesson from this,

Don’t be too high and mighty

Or that lesson you would miss.

 

Some use the daily tabloids

In order to interpret God’s Word

And since the news changes daily

They have repeatedly erred.

 

 

They interpret Bible prophecy

In the light of modern-day events

And to show Jesus’s return is near

Is most surely their intent.

 

But the news changes daily

And is unreliable like the sheep,

It invariably follows world events

Even as we speak.

 

Though a poor analogy,

God’s Word is like the sheep stake,

It is steadfast and immovable

And it doesn’t make mistakes.

 

 

Hence, the sheep stake guide

Is better than the sheep

And the Bible in any given era

Is always God’s heartbeat.

 

I note here of late

A very dangerous declaration,

The Bible has been deemed outdated

By a certain denomination.

 

A team is to be impaneled

To rewrite the Holy Bible,

This I would say about such a feat-

It would be spiritually suicidal.

 

Who would that bench-marker be?

Or maybe, I should ask what,

Considering there is no human being

That could qualify for the slot.

 

Heaven and earth will pass away

But God’s Word endures forever,

The sheep and the sheep stake will too,

But God’s Word?  Never!

 

Stewart Russell © November 23, 2020