Mortimer George Creations

Every now and then I have a vivid flashback. Captured in this picture is a young boy not quite four years old, dark skin, no, black skin. His face had a permanent glisten from playing outside in the humid Caribbean air since his birth. He is soft-spoken and average height for his age which is about 3-4 years old. In this hallucination, the black boy is with his older brother. His older brother is the type of older brother that the little black boy would follow wherever he went. I mean everywhere. The brother was five years his senior and commanded respect from his little brother, but he himself was a humble leader. He allowed his little brother to follow him wherever he went and would show him off to his friends and classmates. The respect was mutual between the two. One morning as the boys played outside chasing the chickens, dogs and just about anything on four legs on the farm, the third brother came out to join them. He was the oldest. Even though the oldest boy was two years older than the middle brother, they stood the same height, but the similarities stopped there. He wanted to play a game with his brothers.The family owned a large dog in this recollection. The breed of the dog is unknown, but from the little black boys’ perspective the dog was huge, sorta like a Shetland pony to him, “let’s see if him can ride the dog,” said the oldest with a strong Caribbean accent. The little black boy laughed at the thought but when he looked up he realized he was the object of their discussion. They were talking about him riding the huge dog!

Now, to properly frame this flashback…so far there’s the little black boy, his brothers, the huge unknown dog and now the house. The house was a typical Caribbean home back in those days, although it was larger than most dwellings in their neighborhood. It was made of wood. The paint appears as a dull weather-beaten blue that has become a pale greenish color. If that makes any sense at all. Due to the constant rainy weather in the Caribbean, the homes are on stilts. Not the kind in the circus but about 3-4 feet high.

As the little black boy mounts the dog, he pretends he is the star of a classic western film. He stars as the vaquero negro jumping on his horse to ride off into the sunset or wild wild west, but in this case his caballo es una perro. A dog that’s not accustomed to toting passengers. Once the little black boy jumps on the dog, the dog does what he knows to do best…RUN. In this case the dog runs straight for the house, because under the house on stilts is the dogs territory, his home away from home so to speak. The dog is now running full speed. The little boy not to be outdone is holding on for dear life, because no cowboy is thrown from a horse! As the dog approaches the house, the vaquero is looking back at his brothers because he wants them to be proud of him. It feels like slow motion to him, and he could hear the Clint Eastwood whistle tone in his head as he continues to gaze for his big brothers approval. The brothers are pointing at him, but he hears nothing they say because he is the proud vaquero. They continue to point while he continues to seek their approval. Then, the moment the boy turns around…

This weekend I attended a concert in Long Beach, Ca., the newly crowned Gay capital of the state. Hard to believe considering San Francisco is in the same state. The headline performer told the audience of his story when as a four-year old he fell out of a four-story building. He was pronounced dead on the scene, initially. His name is Travis Greene, his music genre is Christian Contemporary. If you have a chance to listen to his music, please do. He fell but he got up.

Splat!!  the little black boys face hit the top board just above the entrance under the house. The dog kept running north while the cowboy went south. He was falling in slow motion and couldn’t wait to hit the ground to dull the pain in his face. One complete head over heals back flip later the little cowboy laid on the ground covered with dust that clinged to his glistening, sweaty face. As his brothers laughed while running towards him little vaquero rolled over in pain, but he was alive and surprisingly the pain had subsided…Little vaquero negro had fallen, but he too got up!. That was me that day, my only lasting memory of living in Costa Rica as a child. I have fallen several times since then but this Vaquero Negro keeps getting up!  Tell me about when you’ve fallen only to get back up?