First, I must start by offering my most sincere apology for the delay between blog posts; it seems that so many amazing things are happening in my life right now (this is by no means a complaint), and I don’t want to miss a thing! I will be mindful to include you on my journey :)
Well, here’s what you’ve missed: on Thursday, October 28th, I graduated with my Master of Science degree from one of the most reputable universities in the country (not bad, eh? Lol!)
My parents decided they wanted to host a celebratory dinner in my honour, and my initial reaction was quite apathetic, but all those involved in organizing remained focused and dedicated to produce a quality event in the midst of my feigned enthusiasm (for which, with the benefit of hindsight, I am truly grateful). From my perspective, it seemed as though everyone was just making a big deal.
At the convocation ceremony, I noticed (and my guests also observed) the deficiency of melanin-enriched degree candidates in the crowd; with that alone, it was beginning to dawn on me that this was quite an achievement indeed. What I had first superficially visualized as mere pomp and circumstance was slowly being perceived as an honourable event. This is coming from someone who had been quite content having my degree delivered via post…or so I thought.
Even after an impressive ceremony and meticulous photo documentation (www.samanthaclarke.net), I did not appreciate the real value of my accomplishment until my invited guests began to arrive for dinner, that late afternoon of All Hallows’ Eve; it had been so long (too long!) since I had seen some of the family and friends who were in attendance…for me. Guests ranged in age, degree of health, and distance travelled who overcame various obstacles just to be in attendance…for me. Guests rearranged their work schedules, and delayed the annual trick-or-treating ritual with their young ones (and you know how much kids love candy)…for me. My parents spent a lot of their time, effort, and money to host a celebratory event…for me. Friends and family were given the opportunity to deliver congratulatory greetings…for me…and the beautiful things that were said…about me…brought tears to my eyes.
I was deeply honoured, and it was truly humbling to hear my loved ones admire my accomplishment so passionately and eloquently, even more so to recognize their pride, and to feel that, in some way, I have added something very special to their lives. My friends who offered their encouraging words were women who I love and admire, and have supported me at each of my life’s major junctions. My uncle, siblings, parents and cousin expressed that unique familial love that does not exist anywhere else in the universe. It was surreal to finally accept that everyone was ACTUALLY there…for me…because previously, I genuinely did not perceive my actions to be worthy of any praise; I have always had a desire to learn, and I always accept a good challenge – that in and of itself defines graduate school – and honestly, I wasn’t really expecting anyone to notice. Overwhelmed with the ambiance overflowing with positive energy and love…for me…when it was time for me to deliver my speech, I.Was.Speechless. Anyone who I have ever encountered for longer than 15 minutes knows that this is NOT a common occurrence, for I have been blessed (well, that’s a matter of opinion) with the gift of gab. I had performed numerous mental preparations of my speech (lesson learned: write it down), but after being engulfed in the flames of love from all in attendance, I was literally at a loss for words. I managed to regain my composure and articulate (with relative coherence) my sincerest gratitude. It was then that I realized that this party was not for me at all. Not only did my initial indifference to the degree-receiving rituals and celebrations seem unacceptable, it became blatantly selfish.
The accomplishment for which we were all gathered in celebration would not have been remotely attainable were it not for the Dedication, Faith, Gratitude, Honesty, Humility, and Love of those who were passionate about my success. My family and friends have believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself, loved me when I didn’t love myself, prayed for me when I couldn’t pray for myself; my family and friends were alongside me at my lowest of lows when they gave me the confidence to soar higher, and at my highest of highs when they assured me that I could indeed reach for the stars…and grab one…no…BE one. I am thankful that the good Lord has placed these remarkable people in my life to keep me dedicated to pursuing excellence, faithful in prayer, appreciative of encouragement, honest with myself, humble in all my endeavours, and loving in all my interactions.
Today, I am where, what, and who I am because of my family and friends, and to them, I am eternally grateful.
Bless,
L Boogie
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
There's No Place Like Home
I have been tempted to blog for quite some time now -- my return to London, UK seemed like the perfect opportunity to show you The World Through My Eyes. 20/40 is still under construction, but here's a glimpse...
“You ARE British, you know. Never forget that. Welcome home.”
– Ms. Flo (my God-mother’s mother)
For the past 22 years, I’ve been living approximately 5710 kilometres (3550 miles) away from my grandmothers and the majority of their direct descendants – on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. With these 22 years unevenly divided into 17 and 5 years in Canada and the US, respectively, I can designate one hand a piece to count the number of times that I have ever seen each grandmother. The only times I have seen them, or any other member of my trans-Atlantic family for that matter, have been when THEY come to see US. I’ve always wondered what happens on their side of the pond, but I’ve always been a (poor) student *cue violin solo* and it’s difficult to save money for airfare and spending money when you’re barely being paid above the poverty line. Well, school’s done. After being guilt-tripped (in that playful we’re-saying-this-with-love-but-we’re-dead-serious kind of way) by numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins…and family friends who we refer to as aunts, uncles, and cousins (you know how West Indian families operate), who had ventured to my side of the Atlantic, I finally saved up enough money to come home.
I arrived at London Gatwick airport exactly one month ago, and I’ve loved every minute. When I travelled to Manchester, I had the privilege of spending a few days with my maternal grandmother who, after many decades, still lives in the house where she raised my mother. I had the opportunity to sleep in ma’s old room, and even in her old bed! Keep in mind, springs get all bent out of shape after xx years, so it wasn’t exactly a good night’s sleep, but I’m thankful for the experience. While in Manchester, I spent time with my uncle, and I met my cousin for the first time…he’s 20…and I met his 1 year old daughter. Also a first was my reunion with my God-mother…well, the first time in 22 years.
When I travelled to Northampton, I spent time with my paternal grandmother, and she regaled me with stories of my pops, her youngest child, and all of his mischief. Apparently, I’m his protégée. Me…mischief???
The majority of the family lives in London, and this is where I’ve spent the majority of my time. I’ve been to North, Northwest, Central, East, and South London, and I’ve received nothing but love from everyone I’ve visited. My original trip was scheduled for 3 weeks, but with the generosity of my aunt, it was extended for another four. After week one of my extension, I’ve participated in Notting Hill carnival, bartered at Portobello Road with my cousin, and celebrated my uncle’s milestone 60th birthday.
It’s difficult to sum up four weeks of laughter, tears, and reunions into 500 words, but there aren’t too many words that could adequately describe my experience anyway. If you feel at home wherever you feel loved, then honey, I’m home! I’ve told some of my family and friends in North America that I'm never coming back...well...
Bless,
L Boogie
“You ARE British, you know. Never forget that. Welcome home.”
– Ms. Flo (my God-mother’s mother)
For the past 22 years, I’ve been living approximately 5710 kilometres (3550 miles) away from my grandmothers and the majority of their direct descendants – on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. With these 22 years unevenly divided into 17 and 5 years in Canada and the US, respectively, I can designate one hand a piece to count the number of times that I have ever seen each grandmother. The only times I have seen them, or any other member of my trans-Atlantic family for that matter, have been when THEY come to see US. I’ve always wondered what happens on their side of the pond, but I’ve always been a (poor) student *cue violin solo* and it’s difficult to save money for airfare and spending money when you’re barely being paid above the poverty line. Well, school’s done. After being guilt-tripped (in that playful we’re-saying-this-with-love-but-we’re-dead-serious kind of way) by numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins…and family friends who we refer to as aunts, uncles, and cousins (you know how West Indian families operate), who had ventured to my side of the Atlantic, I finally saved up enough money to come home.
I arrived at London Gatwick airport exactly one month ago, and I’ve loved every minute. When I travelled to Manchester, I had the privilege of spending a few days with my maternal grandmother who, after many decades, still lives in the house where she raised my mother. I had the opportunity to sleep in ma’s old room, and even in her old bed! Keep in mind, springs get all bent out of shape after xx years, so it wasn’t exactly a good night’s sleep, but I’m thankful for the experience. While in Manchester, I spent time with my uncle, and I met my cousin for the first time…he’s 20…and I met his 1 year old daughter. Also a first was my reunion with my God-mother…well, the first time in 22 years.
When I travelled to Northampton, I spent time with my paternal grandmother, and she regaled me with stories of my pops, her youngest child, and all of his mischief. Apparently, I’m his protégée. Me…mischief???
The majority of the family lives in London, and this is where I’ve spent the majority of my time. I’ve been to North, Northwest, Central, East, and South London, and I’ve received nothing but love from everyone I’ve visited. My original trip was scheduled for 3 weeks, but with the generosity of my aunt, it was extended for another four. After week one of my extension, I’ve participated in Notting Hill carnival, bartered at Portobello Road with my cousin, and celebrated my uncle’s milestone 60th birthday.
It’s difficult to sum up four weeks of laughter, tears, and reunions into 500 words, but there aren’t too many words that could adequately describe my experience anyway. If you feel at home wherever you feel loved, then honey, I’m home! I’ve told some of my family and friends in North America that I'm never coming back...well...
Bless,
L Boogie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)