My post today is a bit late because I had been thinking about what to write about. If you have a blackberry or know someone who has a blackberry you have probably heard the sad story of the 17-year-old boy who was shot and killed by the driver of the vehicle that had been in a collision with the taxi that the boy was being transported in. Which brings me to the whole topic of this post, Road Rage.
I have had my share of road rage experiences. For me, however, as time went by I decided to be less perturbed by the idiots on the road. I have been very angry at times and in most cases my anger was directed at taxi or coaster bus drivers who think that the road belongs to them solely, but I do not think there had ever been a point where I would have felt to need to get out of my car and shoot the offending driver. First of all I do not have a gun and second that would have been placing too much importance on his existence. I have, however, considered following the car, getting ahead of it and coming to a screeching halt stop in front of the car and telling the driver a few choice words then driving off. So the extent of my anger has involved deciding to go to dexterity classes but I have not taken any as I have opted for a more zen life. I am keeping my eyes open on the road trying to ascertain who is going to be an asshole and keeping out of his way as there are just too many illiterate, stupid, discourteous people on the road and the cops are just never there when you need them.
On to more pleasant things. This weekend I have been reading a book entitled “Falmouth of My Childhood” by Yolanda Mittoo. In this self published book, Ms. Mittoo shares her experiences growing up in Falmouth, Trelawny in Jamaica. Ms. Mittoo is now a retiree. It has been a pleasant read so far, though a good proofreader would have been helpful; and gives someone my age a little insight into life in the country in those days as I am sure Ms. Mittoo’s recollections for the most part would have been replicated in the different country towns of the time just with different place names and people.
Even though I am not that old there are aspects that I can relate to like the candies she ate as a child and I have come to realize that things may have been called a different name back then. I would have liked to live in those days when the milk man came in the mornings and milk was not solely purchased in a supermarket. Her book also got me thinking about the things that have changed over the course of my short life in comparison to hers. For example, I cannot recall hearing the Parish Church bell on a Sunday morning anymore when I go to my family home in Westmoreland. I do not know if it has stopped ringing or because there is so much more noise now that it is muted as my family home is not really in close proximity to the church.
And on to much lighter things. Mavado now his US work permit back so I guess there is hope for James Robertson (inside joke if you are not Jamaican).
P.S. If you are interested in obtaining a copy of “Falmouth of My Youth” post a comment on the blog and I will find out where it is available as the copy I am reading was loaned to me by a friend.