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Storyteller

Ahhhh Daydream moment

Ahhh yes I have traveled this road many of times. It goes from the north of the island where my Father is from through the center of the island where my mother is from to the city where I was born. Go ahead on this cold day daydream you are drivi8nbg through this tropical highway.

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

The Coal Miner’s Daughter(Eloping) From I am a Dirty Immigrant

Let’s backtrack a little and let me tell you how I met The Coal Miner’s Daughter in early September nineteen eighty-six. I was sitting outside the student centre, homesick and unhappy, when she walked by with two of her friends. I started talking to them. Well, I was talking to her friends; she stood there saying nothing. Just before they left I asked her why she was so quiet. She responded, but to tell you the truth, I barely heard what she said. I somehow suggested that we hang out and to my surprise thenext night she showed up at the student centre. I was sitting there surrounded by women, none of which I knew. Bloody women were like vultures when it came to ballplayers. She sat for a while but did not say much, then suddenly got up and said she was going for a walk. It was dark out so I suggested that I go with her and that was the beginning of a long friendship.

She had dark brown hair, brown eyes, caramel complexion and a beautiful smile. Quite frankly, she had an island personality so I immediately felt comfortable with her. The first time we kissed was in front of the little chapel in the middle of the campus. I remember her looking shocked and then said, “Look what you went and done.” We were inseparable from that day. She always found a way to make me laugh. She was and still is a good person. Our wedding was completely crazy. No one knew about it but my friend from Ethiopia and another friend from Zambia who brought her best friend who now hates me I guess because I am so bloody good looking.

We left the campus and drove three hours to Richmond in The Blue Grass City. When we got to the courthouse I was told I had to have identification, so we drove the three hours back to the school and low and behold the bloody car broke down. We borrowed my friend’s car and drove the three hours back to Richmond. We got married at the house of a preacher, an older black man, with his aging mother in attendance. When all was done we drove back to the school, I went to the gym and got dressed for a ball game. I played the game and afterwards I saw her for about ten minutes, then went to my dorm. Yes my friend I spent my wedding night sleeping on the top of a bunk bed that was about five inches too short for me.  

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Storyteller

Di Taxi Ride and Other Stories (Humorous Short Stories) by Brenda Barrett

Di Taxi Ride and Other Stories (Humorous Short Stories) by Brenda Barrett

Di Taxi Ride and Other Stories is a collection of twelve witty and fast paced short stories. Each story tells of a unique slice of Jamaican life. The stories include: a typical Jamaican taxi ride, told through the eyes of a returning resident; a visit by a business professional to a crooked obeah woman; a date gone awry; a wedding, where the grooms four baby mothers decide to show up; and the story of two enterprising young men, who decided to set up a church to make some money…

I just finished it, laughed a lot, great stories, vivid imagery

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Storyteller

Good marning me Neighbours

Took a walk to the grocery store, its a cool, crisp, West Virginia morning. Its always great when you live in a city and when walking you can hear birds singing and wind rustling through trees. Later today will go for a drive, most likely in Ohio, just across the bridge. Go on roads never before taken, enjoy the countryside. Hmmm maybe I will even take some pictures, or video. In an adventurous mood today.

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

What is This Fast Food From I am a Dirty Immigrant

What is This Fast Food From I am a Dirty Immigrant

We arrived at our destination and man was I confused. For one, it was fifteen degrees. My body was numb and my teeth chattered so hard I thought they would crumble. My toes felt like someone was poking them with needles every time I moved. I was definitely not prepared for this; no human could possibly be prepared for these frigid conditions. My tropical ass did not own a jacket, or anything warm for that matter. I looked out the car window. There were no bloody sky scrapers, no bustling streets, just a small town surrounded by mountains. The younger of the two gentlemen asked me if I was hungry and I told him I was. He pointed to a building with golden arches. I was confused. On the island, there were no fast food restaurants – just local restaurants that cater to the tourists. When he saw the expression on my face, he pointed out several other fast food restaurants along the side of the two-lane street. Pizza Hut – what was that? Sonic? – have no clue. I zeroed in on Kentucky Fried Chicken because it had the recognizable word “chicken” in its name. I did not enjoy the meal very much. It was way too greasy, and judging from the bland taste, I knew there were little or no tropical spices in it. After eating, the two men informed me they would take me to the basketball dorm. They made it a point to let me know that the one basketball player there at that time was black. I was a little baffled as to why it was so important to inform me of his ethnicity.

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

Mobbed From the novel I am a Dirty Immigrant

In the fall, an incident transpired that totally turned me off from playing ball. I was walking to the dorm when two school buses drove by and all the kids screamed at me. Their voices echoed through the small city as the busses rounded a corner just down the road. I thought nothing of it until the busses came back, stopped and all these kids ran up to me. I was a little unnerved and almost took off running. This one red headed kid frightened me so bad, all I thought was “Children of the Corn”. Bloody kids were like vultures, jumping and screaming, pushing notepads and pencils at me and basically treating me like I was a big star or something. You would have thought that I had just stopped a hurricane, or brought peace to the Middle East or something. Their faces were red from the cold. Yeah that is something I noticed: lots of red faces, their little eyes wide with excitement. Hell, I had not even played a game yet.

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Pics with verse Storyteller

Be safe

Be safe

If you are where it is snowing, drive safe if you have to.

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Stories Storyteller

The ole time bus

The ole time bus

Through the winding roads, lines with sugar cane, or banana trees, up and down, round sharp corners, dangerously leaning towards the precipice. Racing along, watching the coconut trees flash by, children running alongside the bus waving and screaming. Stopping to let the young men playing in the streets to scamper to the banks of the road, as the bus tooted its horn. The sputter of the clutch as the driver fights to change gears. The hum of the engine, the clank and thump as it hit potholes, the creak of its wooden body. Ahhhh traveling the ole bus was always an adventure.