Greetings!

It has been a while. But you know the usual, muchness and manyness can be all consuming. I am thankful, however, for the joy I have been experiencing, in the midst. Today is not my usual day to write, but then today is an unusual day. On August twenty-five, 1922, one hundred years ago, a little girl was born to Lucille Louise Agatha Smith and Henry Martin Bryan; she was given the names Violet Sylvia, names which together, signal characteristics such as charm, grace, one in whose life nature’s pristine beauty is mirrored; characteristics that she embodied, and today, on the one hundredth anniversary of her birth, I celebrate and give thanks for her life and for the countless ones whose lives she influenced and impacted, just in being; for the fact that she was and remains my brothers’ and my, beloved mother!

Violet Sylvia was her mother’s second child and grew up in a home where women knew how to and took charge! Given that her mother was what today we refer to as a single mother, the young Violet was left in the care of her aunt Muriel, her mother’s older [and married] sister, allowing her mother to leave their home in Port Antonio for the city of Kingston, where she gained employment that enabled her to support her daughters. Violet’s sister Dulcie, affectionately called Pet, being just two years older than she was, had some difficulty pronouncing the word ‘Sister;’ it came out sounding like “Sissy” hence for most of her life, among family and those who knew her in Port Antonio, Violet Sylvia, remained simply… “Sissy”!

In the years following my father’s death, my beloved grandmother [“Sissy’s mother] came to live with us and being as faas as I was, I quizzed her about everything and everyone. During that time, I learnt that “Sissy” was a quiet and well-behaved child, “she was more like her aunt than me,” my grandmother said, with a twinkle in her eye, that in later years I understood as her way of saying that while “Sissy” was more like her aunt, I on the other hand was in many ways, just like her😊.

Young “Sissy” grew up in Port Antonio and went to Titchfield Secondary School, where she excelled in her studies, was an avid rifle shooter and netball player. The latter came as no surprise to me as in adulthood, she stood, in her stockings at six feet one inch, and so would have done well, playing goal shooter. Having decided on a career in midwifery, young Sissy’s sights were set on moving to the city where she would commence her studies, but due to a lack of sufficient financial support, decided to work as a pharmacist’s assistant at the local drug store, in hope of saving toward her further studies. Well, the sequence of events did not evolve quite the way she planned it, and all because of her neighbour.

It was only a zinc fence that separated their houses and the neighbour, the younger of two brothers, had not only been eying “Sissy”, as my grandmother told the story, he was captivated by her statuesque beauty, quiet demeanour and the fact that she returned little notes, in response to the ones he would throw over the fence, encased in match boxes, the contents of which signaled their mutual and growing interest in each other.

My grandmother told me that not only was the neighbour a handsome guy, but his father being one of the few merchant tailors in the town, he and his brother were always well dressed. He was known to be a charmer, a lover of music particularly jazz and when it came to dancing, his feet were lighter than a feather. Poor “Sissy” was smitten and before long, they were on their way to visit her father, an established photographer in the city, to ask his permission to marry.

The wedding took place at the Parish Church in Port Antonio, where “Sissy” was a beloved and well-respected member. She was a Sunday School teacher and member of the choir, having the distinction of winning many local singing contests with her beautiful mezzo soprano. “Sissy’s” dream of becoming a nurse/midwife, though placed on hold for a while, was never lost and so after the birth of her first child, she made the journey to Kingston Public Hospital and the Jubilee Maternity Centre, where she commenced her training, supported in the raising of her son by her husband George [the neighbour] and her mother.

Upon completion of her studies, the young family relocated to the parish of St. Thomas where “Sissy” and her husband found employment and made their home. Three other children were added to the family and “Sissy” established herself as a nurse/midwife, in the Morant Bay district, and the Princess Margaret Hospital, gaining the admiration and respect not only of her professional colleagues but of many parents whose children she delivered. In this her adopted hometown, no one knew her as “Sissy;” here, she was known simply as “Nurse,” the woman whose physical stature, combined with her disciplined yet deeply caring persona, established her as a beloved member of the community.

Well, I have to call it quits for now, until next week when I shall share my recollections of Violet Sylvia, the wife, mother, churchwoman, and the legacy she left behind, that continues to inspire. So, until then, stay safe and well as you remain in His grip.

Grace+