Got up about 6:45. Showered, dressed. Sat around. Had Sabbath Sermon, heard "Colgate Cavity Fighter's Club." They played a lovely "Lone Ranger" story -- how the Lone Ranger got Silver, his horse. Rested. Played Scrabble and Chinese Checkers with T. while listening to the races. Rather good day for me and C(harles) Hussey. Washed after eating supper. Put on pjs, went to bed.
Thank you, Mr.O, thank you.
- Dinner: Orange quarters, sardine+sage+orange, sardine+butterbeans+curry sauce, yummy maizeflour+green banana pone bread; honey, red herring+peppers, 1/3 orange
- Supper: Orange+?+sage+curry, corn bread
hee hee, I kill me.
Charles Hussey was my first celebrity crush. He was, and apparently might still be, one of the most winningest racehorse jockeys in Jamaica. That ain't sayin' much... since overall there weren't that many. On Saturday, the radio would broadcast the horse races live from Caymanas Park, and I would sit and listen. After awhile I began to handicap the races, and pick the winners. Anything Hussey was riding was usually a pretty good bet, and there were only but so many horses at the track, unlike the U.S. where there literally thousands. When we first got back to the States, it was like Smorgasboard! But when I tried to keep up with the races, it was impossible. Too many tracks, too many horses, too many jockeys. Everything is bigger in America.
There was usually a "card" of 10 races I think. I remember once "winning" like 7 out of the 10. A great treat was to get the actual race card; sometimes they'd be floating around outside the betting parlours in Kingston or printed in the paper. I'd go through and circle my choices, deciding who to pick based on the jockey riding, the weight the horse was carrying, the track conditions that day and the horse's record. There was no one to bet with, but if I could have I would have won some bucks. Poppy freaked out eventually when he realized how seriously I took it, and banned me from listening to them but I'd sneak a listen by sitting under the window of his office. I could always read about them in the Sunday paper, comparing the posted results with my "bets" but 80% of the fun was listening to them.
One time I was listening to the races, and a horse collapsed and died there on the track. I'm pretty sure the horse's name was Hot Stuff. It was very sad.
The Colgate Cavity Fighter's Club came on every Saturday in the morning; 10A, I think. They would play "kids" songs like "Rubber Tree Plant", do little skits and broadcast radio plays from America--hence me listening to The Lone Ranger.
I found a picture of Poppy that I took; I think it's one of the first pictures I ever took. He let me use his Pentax. We were out back behind our house, facing Northeast. The top of that smelly lake would be behind the shrubs. Behind him is that mountain that was on the north side of our house.
Poppy in particular was known as "'Merican" and would go and hang out with the smokers in Ambrook Lane. Nobody ever bothered him. I went with him a couple of times. I don't think the Professor ever did... she was too little and besides, she was always Mama's baby.