Dear St Peter…

By Matthew Woolford

Granny Myrtle was just over five feet tall at her peak, but she was a giant of a woman!

During my childhood, she would be at our home from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m., Monday to Friday, giving able support to the raising of her grandchildren. When I was old enough, I would leave with her on Fridays to spend the weekends, sometimes going to school from there on Mondays.

During the school holidays for Christmas, Easter and July/August, her home was mine for weeks at a time. I would spend countless hours watching TV and playing in the yard and surrounding areas with my brothers and cousins.

Breakfast was always the first order of the day, followed by the mandatory watching of Sesame Street at 9 a.m. This would be followed by playtime. Lunchtime was at noon, where the best corned beef and rice would be served. Further play would be allowed until the second airing of Sesame Street in the afternoon. This would be followed by lighter play until it was time for a bath and then dinner.

When I passed for St Mary’s College, I spent many of my Form One afternoons at her house before heading home. School ended at 2.05 p.m. so there was plenty of spare time especially at the end of terms, when we were allowed to leave on completion of assessment.

When I graduated from UWI, I left St Augustine and visited her in my cap and gown so that she could be part of the experience.

When I got my license and was driving, I spent my days of youth unemployment taking her to Hi-Lo (now Massy Stores), in St Ann’s where she loved to shop.

She attended my Baptism, First Communion, Confirmation and Life in the Spirit graduations even though she was not Catholic.

When I got retrenched a few years ago at the onset of the economic slowdown, it was one of the happiest days of my life. Granny was now in her 80s, and I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could, giving back only a fraction of all that she gave to me.

Living with my uncle during her later years, I would make the trek from Diego Martin to Arouca at least once a week to visit her, most times with a box of Royal Castle in hand. Two pieces of chicken and fries were her heart’s delight.

When I got there, I would sweep and mop her kitchen, living room, bedroom, and bathroom area. I would do her laundry, hang them on the line and fold them when they dried.

If she needed anything at the nearby supermarket, I would purchase them for her. She loved having a few bottles of Peardrax and Smalta in the refrigerator to serve to guests, hospitality being one of her strengths.

In conversation she would recount the many observations of her life. Contrasting life in St Vincent, where she was born and grew up, and life in Trinidad where she spent most of her adult life.

She remembered the police driving through the village in St Vincent and every child running under his/her bed and hiding, and observed that nowadays in Trinidad, when children roam the streets, the police seem to be the one doing the hiding.

She remembered when TT$1 could buy four dinner mints in Trinidad and lamented that today it could barely purchase two. She remembered my grandfather, Cecil, for his adamant insistence on education for his children and the sacrifices he made in pursuit of this dream.

She also remembered the dignity with which he undertook his God-given role as provider and protector of his family and household. For the first 20 years since his passing, she held a thanksgiving, in remembrance of his life, on the anniversary of his death.

During these meetings, the elders and members of her church would visit and bring the good, old-fashioned religion to her home, singing, dancing, and praising God with euphoric joy.

Granny was also a master of language, uniquely blending proverbial sayings with world-class hyperbole. God was always good to the eleventh hour. If the cart was in front, then the horse was ‘wayyy’ behind. When the hops bread got stale, it was so hard that if she only threw it out the window it could fly across the road to reach Mr Holder (the postmaster located about five minutes’ walk away).

Granny never finished school, but all her children did. Many of her grandchildren went on to university and all her great-grandchildren shall as well.

She was a keen observer of life, paying attention to it as it unfolded. She had a witty tongue that could make anyone laugh or feel comfortable in her presence. And more than that, she was a paragon of friendship.

I remember going into the living room one Friday afternoon and seeing her entertaining her good friend, Cousin Isley. They were eating peanut butter and homemade bread and drinking a tall glass of laughter. It was simple and beautiful. If that is not friendship, then I do not know what is!

John 15:13 reads, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends,” and she laid down her life for mine.

Should I ever be conferred with the next Sacrament, that of Matrimony, I hope that my wife, this good thing mentioned in Proverbs 18:22, is half as good as she was.

So, St Peter, as you make your daily rounds in Heaven, the next time you see my Granny, do me this great favour… And please tell her that I love her!