Sad State of Affairs

"You have any suss'?" usually comes about five minutes into every conversation with my daughter.

'Suss' is gossip and as the months go by and our relationship deepens into a friendship, my daughter and I swap stories from our daily interactions with others.

On my drive home this afternoon she called and after telling me about her day at work Abi said "by the way, I have suss fi' give you!"

What she told me was not funny but I found myself having to pull over onto the side of the rural road to control the laughter that had overtaken me. Tears were flowing down my eyes, my sides were splitting and my belly was on the verge of bursting and I had to ask Abi to hang up.

Sitting on the side of the roadway my laughter turned to tears – of sadness and gratitude.

The 'suss' was about a young lady, same age as my daughter, who lives in the St. Catherine community from which we migrated to Canada. They have remained friends across the miles but their lives have evolved so very differently. My daughter's friend has an high school education but has been unemployed for at least a year now and has a three year old child for a man who is MIA.

Despite her lack of financial resources, employment and help from the child's father, this young lady's picture can be seen on Facebook each week with a new 'weave', in the latest dancehall outfit and on the arms of some DJ or a 'money man' as she captioned the last photograph.

Today, however, after partying the weekend away with the crew Miss Dancehall Queen called my baby girl who had just come home from her second part-time job to ask for $50. Apparently her three year old baby needed a fireman outfit to attend career day at his school!

"What the @$&* you just said Abi?" I screamed in the phone. When I get really annoyed my Jamaican accent and patois comes pouring out. "Har tree ear old hav' career day?!!!

"Are you %@@ kidding me? Which tree year old have career day? Did you ask her if you a di' baby father?"

By this time Abi was dying with laughter. My daughter is way too polite and calm to have asked her friend that. She merely told her that she did not have any money to send. I on the other hand could not let it go.

"Career day mi' backside!"

The more I thought about it the more ridiculous it seemed that a three year old had to attend a career day in a country where the 23 year old mother could not find a job. And the more I repeated it the laughter started to build and I had to pull over.

When I got back on the phone to Abi my laughter had been replaced by gratitude.

"Now you understand why we had to get you out of that place?" I asked Abi.

I have great confidence in my parenting and in my daughter's common sense but peer pressure can be a very powerful thing. So too culture and sadly the culture of Jamaica and many developing countries fosters the mentality that one can beg their way to heaven.

This has been the case for many moons now. I can recall in days long before internet and Western Union, writing many a letters for my mother to "friends" who had migrated basically saying "begging you kindly to please to send a little help."

When the responses would arrive, the envelope would be hurriedly torn, the letter shaken open to see if "anyting' in deh." The letter was of no importance if there wasn't a $10 or $20 bill "in deh." And this was not isolated to my home…it was a scenario played out in many homes then and even now that had someone " a foren" (overseas).

Jamaica's economy has been propped up by remittances since the 1970's. Despite recent reports that there has been a plunge due to the global recession, remittances to Jamaica "over this decade grew between 9.1 per cent and 20 per cent per year – averaging 12.6 per cent per year in the last eight periods," states an August 2009 report in Starbroek News. "Between 2000 and 2008, the transfers grew two and a half times from US$789 million to US$2.02 billion, amounting to 14 per cent of gross domestic product."

For the last seven years, I have been one of those overseas family member and friend who have been helping to keep the Jamaican economy marginally afloat each month by sending money to my mother.

I really do not begrudge doing that. Yes, there was a time I resented having to do so, especially when we were dancing on the poverty line here in Canada. However, as my faith strengthened and my forgiveness quotient increased, I visited and continue to visit Western Union every month and do what most Jamaican living overseas do – send money home.

But I pray that this cycle to will one day be broken. The call for $50 to buy a fireman suit for a 3 year old's career day is a clear sign that we are a ways away from that day.

Of course I recognize the disadvantage and the unlevel playing field that countries like Jamaica have to kick its ball around on. Yet, I cannot ignore that generation after generation have refused to get on a backhoe and start digging. Instead, you have young people like my daughter's friend dressing to the ninth to party and then buying a phone card to call "foren" to "beg a little help."

My daughter is a wise young woman. As we both continued to laugh at the image of a three year old dressed up in his fireman outfight attending his career day, she said "Actually I wanted to ask her if is me and her lie down to get the baby, but I didn't 'cause it's useless."

That's a sad and painful commentary about the land of my birth but many days, like today, I wonder whether that is the truth – "it's useless."


 

Land of My Birth - Part Two

A laptop that would not turn on is to be blamed for my not producing before now Part Two of the post “Land of my Birth.”

Not having a computer proved not to be such a bad thing, however, as I got to focus on a few other things that was percolating in my life and around me.

The global economic melt down has finally arrived in all its glory here in Calgary, Alberta and this city which was once proud of its oil money has had to take stock. The news is replete of stories about the numbers of people losing their jobs – last count it was about 15,000+ in this province. Housing starts and housing sales have decreased and the Alberta government recently announced new taxes to meet the deficit – something that this province has not had in 10 years.

News of gloom and doom funny enough has the potential to either scare the daylights out of you or funny enough inspire. “When the going gets tough, the tough gets going.”

That is what I saw in Jamaica back in February (2009). As I listened to the morning talk shows, the news and looked around me, I shook my head in amazement.

It felt as if time had stood still since I left the island back in 2002. Truthfully, it felt like the country was in a time warp since the 1990’s. The problems were the same, the politics had not changed either, except for a few changes in the players, and the conversations were the same.

The strength of the people had not changed either. Everyone was busy trying to keep things together. There were some brave ones, like our hostess, who had started new businesses on faith. Then there were those who had their hands stretched out, demanding that you put something in it – something of a significant money value.

Listening to Wilmot Perkins, one of Jamaica’s most popular radio talk show host, I thought to myself “the more things change, the more they stay the same,” – a mantra he loves to repeat. I tuned into the conversations on “The Breakfast Club,” a morning radio talk show and things were the same – almost stagnant, near dead.

The Jamaican government it seemed was in the early stage of grief – denial.

Everyone else was saying and seeing that despite the achievements in say highway construction, the infrastructure on the island is crumbling. Crime and violence was at its usual high level. A true picture of the unemployment levels is not possible as so many people are ‘hustling’ to keep afloat.

Several of my Jamaican Facebook friends have been coming up with some ideas and suggestions as to how we in the Diaspora could help our island home. Even that has not changed – after all these years and millions of dollars in remittances – Jamaicans abroad are still trying to figure how to save Paradise.

My Canadian-born husband fell in love with Jamaica soon after we landed. By the time we got to our hostess’ home in New Kingston, he was purchasing property. Ten days later, as we lounged in Negril, Robert had purchased a small hotel and opened a recording studio!

I wished it was that easy – and if it was almost 2 million (if not more) Jamaicans would not be living outside of the island all across the world.

For my part, I tried to picture myself living on the island again and honestly could not. The lawlessness was beyond anything I could tolerate and it was everywhere – the most evident one for me is the traffic laws which were almost completely ignored.

Outside of its natural beauty, which is second to none in the world, little else inspired me in Jamaica to make it my home again.

Back in cold Alberta, seeing signs of the global economic melt down right on my door steps, I am on the contrary inspired – so much so that this past week Robert and I closed a deal on a home.

I love Jamaica no less, but when the going get tough, the tough do indeed gets going. For that effort to be productive there must be an environment that engenders productivity that is guided by social order that supports the effort and leaders who inspire and lead from the front.

While Jamaica will always be the Land of my Birth, sadly that is simply what it will remain – at least for a long time to come.

Blessings,


Claudette

Land of My Birth - Part One

A few of my Facebook friends said that they are waiting for my notes (post) on my honeymoon/visit in Jamaica. Therefore I cannot disappoint. My only hope is that after reading my thoughts they will remain my BFF’s.

The starting point must be that wonderful day, February 14, 2009, in -17 degrees Celsius weather in Edmonton, Alberta. A day before turning 44 years old, my life experiences had already included many a beautiful, cold and wonder-filled days.

However, February 14, 2009 was that much more special as at 3:30 that afternoon I would marry not just the person who has become a true friend but one who loves me unconditionally to the core of my being – flaws and all.

Less than a week later, Robert and I would leave our home in Calgary for the land of my birth – Jamaica. This would be his first visit ever and this was my first in almost seven years.

As I thought about how best to share our experiences and my personal thoughts about Jamaica of 2009, it seemed the best way to approach it was in two parts. This first post, Land of My Birth Part One, will focus on Jamaica as a tourist/holiday destination.

In Land of My Birth Part Two, I will share with you my thoughts about Jamaica through the eyes of a returning citizen, particularly as one visiting from North America and in a time when the greatest economic recession of our times is unfolding.

Through the Visitors’ Lenses

After some debating and persuading, Robert agreed that visiting Jamaica with a ‘local’ the true experience is in travelling around the island instead of holding up in an all-inclusive resort. So, our trip was designed by me that we would ‘circle’ the island, staying at various properties for 2-3 days, and make day trips to nearby must-see sights, etc.

We arrived at the Norman Manley International Airport in Kingston, the capital of Jamaica, early in the afternoon and after a fairly lengthy time in Immigrations due to the fact that there were about 4-5 flights on the ground, we got into the Customs Hall.

There our experience with the Customs Officer we met was going fairly well until she finally found ‘gold’ – something that she could tax to get money into the Government’s coffers.

Having not smoked in over 12 hours, Robert was ready to pay whatever she wanted for a piece of Swarovski we had for gifting. How this story ended is part of the material for Part Two.

Kingston, Jamaica

Finally in our rental car heading for my dear woman-friend and mentor’s home, Robert saw for the first time examples of why many regular tourists do not venture into Kingston.

Like most travelling Canadians, he took in good stride what must have been shockers for him and busied himself photographing (1) the bikers travelling in the middle of traffic, forming four lanes on two lane roads, (2) passengers in the back of vans and (3) fully armed police and soldiers in the middle of the city.

This was soon forgotten as we hungrily dove into the fully laden table of Jamaican food our hostess had waiting for us. Her generous meal was the precursor of many more such meals in Kingston over the next few days.

Our first evening (Friday) ended at the piano bar at the Jamaica Pegasus Hotel, a place that soon became Robert’s favourite spot for anything in Kingston. Saturday started at the 24-hour café at the Pegasus for early morning cups of Blue Mountain coffee as our hostess does not drink the stuff and her cupboard was coffee-free.

Since we met, Robert has been insisting that he is not all that into seafood. Things took a dramatic turn after his first bite into freshly caught red snapper, accompanied by festival (a cornmeal based dumpling/biscuit/bannock) and bammy (made from cassava).

“I have never had fish tasting like that in my entire life!” he declared and would continue to say as we travelled around the island.

Touring the campus of the University of the West Indies, shopping at the Sovereign Centre and drinks and conversation at a beautiful multi-million dollar home in Jack’s Hill, St. Andrew were some of the things we accomplished in our first two days in Kingston.

Sunday morning found us in the congregation of my former church – The Universal Centre of Truth for Better Living (UCT) – and what a joy and blessing that was!

No one knew I was coming, although our hostess had mentioned to the senior minister that she had special guests. Aside from the welcome of our hostess, being at UCT was a homecoming. The music, the sermon, the new building and the people was almost overwhelming for me. Robert was rocking and getting jiggy to the music, particularly the saxophone rendition of “Great is My Faithfulness – my favourite hymn – by a young man named Courtney.

In fact, his ‘blowing’ was so awesome that when the Minister announced that he would be playing at “Jazz in the Garden,” at the Pegasus that night, we bought tickets on the spot. It was money well spent, as not only did we get to hear Courtney do his thing again but we were entertained by Jamaican greats such as Dean Fraser on his horns, Karen Smith’s wonderful voice, not to mention Michael Harris and the E-Park Band led by Peter Ashbourne.

Robert fell in love with the Pegasus hotel and its offerings all over again and started asking about rates – as if he is planning to move into a room there for the rest of his life.

Boston Bay, Portland

Loaded up on ackee and saltfish and Blue Mountain Coffee, early Monday morning we headed out for Portland. We were booked into a tree house at Great Huts and were feeling fairly excited about getting there.

Our journey was slow however for several reasons: (1) the beautiful sights along the way that had to be photographed, (2) my getting re-acquainted with driving on the narrow, cliff side roads in Jamaica and (3) stopping for Red Stripe beers along the way for Robert. This was one of the biggest thrills for him, being able to drink beers while in a moving vehicle (no open bottle restrictions) and he took full advantage of it!

One of the things I have learned in planning this honeymoon is that Tripadvisor is a very good internet resource. I relied heavily on the reviews of regular travelers posted on the site to help choose hotels and activities for our trip and was not disappointed at any time in the advice we got.

Great Huts in Boston Bay, Portland was confirmed to be a unique experience for travelers not afraid to experience nature. We were in the Gate Hut, not the closest to the sea, but we had a great view of the beach and could hear the waves crashing on the rocks at night.

While in Portland we visited Boston Jerk Centre, Somerset Falls, Blue Lagoon, and the town of Port Antonio. Food was never in short supply and for a reasonable price at little restaurants in the surrounding areas. I had my fill of jerk pork, fricassee chicken and stew peas. Robert was introduced to vegetables steamed in coconut milk/cream and would have it several times in a couple other towns we visited.

Ocho Rios, St. Ann

The trip to Ocho Rios was much easier than the one to Portland as the Government had invested in a highway construction project, which has resulted in some world class roads on this side of the island. Yet, our trip was still somewhat delayed as the sights were too beautiful to simply drive bay.

We also made brief stops along the way in Oracabessa, St. Mary as I showed Robert the places where my childhood summers and some of the best days of my life were spent.
Faith's Pen via Fern Fully as a definite stop as far as I was concerned before checking into our next hotel. And you guessed it, I had ackee and saltfish again but it was combined with some curried goat on the plate (LOL)!

A little apprehensive about our next hotel as the reviews were very mixed about this economy property, it took as a little while to find and we were pleasantly surprised. Rooms On The Beach is no 5 even 4 star property but the room was very comfortable, air conditioned and best yet we had an ocean view.

To Robert’s delight, a massive cruise ship pulled in to port overnight and we had a frontline view of it.

In my plans, Ocho Rios was to be our action spot – and that it was indeed!

The Almond Tree restaurant was the place for our romantic night out. It has been a favourite restaurant of mine for years and they proved again why they deserve that distinction. The service was first class, the meal was superb and the setting, overlooking some of the bluest waters of the Caribbean Sea, was out of this world.

Like a lamb to the slaughter, I allowed myself to be cajoled into zip-lining. After being jostled in the Ocho Rios Craft Village, shopping for souvenirs for family and friends back in Canada and mask(s) for our home, maybe the wiser idea would have been to rest in our air-conditioned room. But no, following the advice of relationship and marriage experts and the lessons of my own previous relationships, I decided to step out of my comfort zone and do something my ‘partner’ wanted to do – even if I could break my neck in the process.


It took a day before I could admit that it was really fun – zip-lining through the ‘jungles’. Chukka Cove Tours has done a really marvelous jobs organizing and executing this tour and although I would not go as far as Robert and say I felt entirely safe throughout, it was really a thrill!

“Kentucky Fried Chicken does taste different here,” said Robert after his first few bites into the BBQ hot wings we bought on our second night in Ocho Rios. My response is that everything actually has taste in Jamaica!

On our way out of this tourist town we stopped at Dunn’s River Falls, where after another breakfast of ackee and saltfish, we were set to tackle the falls. However, due to the number of groups of tourists (as if we weren’t) holding hands and making their way up, we decided to just swim around a bit before setting off for Negril via Montego Bay.



Cliff Side, Negril

Another restaurant that holds a special place in my memory, not because of its international standard of service, is the Pelican Grill in Montego Bay. Growing up, this is a place we would stop for a meal on our way back to Kingston and so I was hoping it was still there.

It was and the service and food was exactly as I remembered it. The staff was welcoming, the booths were still there and the food tasted the same as it did 30 years ago. Robert stuck with an American fare but did have and enjoyed with me Red Peas soup (pig’s tails and all). My first meal of oxtail on this trip was tasty and filling at a very reasonable price.

The highway to Negril was in great condition and we made very good time. Our next hotel had received great reviews and was the most expensive of our entire stay. Robert had been giving me praises on my choices thus far, saying he had not been disappointed in any. Quiet panic was setting in for me as the bar of expectation was now very high.

Tensing Pen Resort was all it was made out to be and more!

Our accommodation for the stay was Garden A, a cottage with a fair view of the Caribbean Sea.
Pleasantly surprised does not describe how we felt the minute we stepped into the reception area and were greeted by one of the most exuberant receptionist ever. The welcome cocktail and cool wash rags which Robert proceeded to drape over his shaven head was nothing in comparison to the well adorned cottage we entered a few minutes later.

Everything combined – friendly neighbours, lounge chairs along the cliffs, diving bridge, hammocks, swimming pool overlooking the Sea, the sunsets and the friendly but not pushy staff – made for the almost perfect destination. By the end of a full day at Tensing Pen, we unanimously declared that on our next trip to Jamaica this would be our base.

Beautiful as it was, we did venture outside of Tensing Pen to have various meals at surrounding restaurants and wayside eateries. One in particular became a favourite for us – Shark’s which is operated by what I like to call a strong black woman. And she can cook to match! I had the best curried goat and curried chicken there and her banana pancakes had Robert from the first bite.

Negril was intended to be our lazy stop and that is exactly what we did. Aside from coming up to eat, we basically lounged, hammock-ed, swam and tanned (Robert) all day.


At nights, we went out to dinner and returned to our verandah where I listened to Robert pleading with me to re-migrate to Jamaica asap.

Treasure Beach, St. Elizabeth

Reluctantly we left Negril and Tensing Pen, vowing to come back and stay longer.

The drive to St. Elizabeth, our last stop before returning to Kingston, was long and a bit bumpy but any discomfort that Robert was feeling was muted by Red Stripe beers. We stopped in Black River for lunch at a place named Yellowtail Restaurant. For less than US10 we had hearty lunches of stewed pork and fried chicken and of course a beer for Robert.

It was my intention that we would go on the Black River Safari, to see the crocodiles and manatees, but Robert was anxious to get to our next resort. This was Jake’s Village, a place that I had never visited before and the reviews were mixed.

Not as well maintained as Tensing Pen and an entirely different landscape, more ‘desert’ like and dry, Jake’s was nevertheless a good place to be on this side of the island (South coast). The massage that I received at the Driftwood Spa was awesome!

What Jake’s has, however, over all the other places we stayed at are the skills of its kitchen staff. Both at the resort restaurant and at the adjoining-sister restaurant Jack Sprat, we had some of the best cooking ever! My only bowl of cornmeal porridge during the visit was had here and it was great! The conch soup at Jack Sprat is to die for.

Honestly, I was not entirely thrilled with our cottage (Conch) at Jake’s – the flooring of the shower was not my favourite – and I was scared to death that I would be confronted by a croaking lizard. Nonetheless, I would recommend this resort as a can do for maybe a night if one is passing through this side of the island.


It was during this stop that we visited the Appleton Rum Tour which was educational and entertaining.

Who knew that a by-product of rum making is molasses with a Viagra effect!

We left St. Elizabeth after a couple nights with my only regret being that we did not make it to Little Ochie for the best lobster in the world. Robert reminded me though that there will be a next time.


Back to Kingston

After 10 days away, we returned to the comfort of my mentor’s home in Kingston. Our time in Jamaica was coming to an end and so it was time to visit with old friends and my mother one more time before leaving.

We also found time to go for ice-cream again at Devon House and have a good bye dinner with our hostess at the best Chinese restaurant in Kingston – Jade Garden Restaurant.

Day 14 and it was time to go but before doing that we went for one last Jamaican breakfast at the Courtleigh Hotel, next door to Robert’s other home Pegasus. My meal of mackerel run-down was very tasty and Robert seemed to have enjoyed his American fare again. However, the service was not up to the standard of the Pegasus.

It was a struggle to get all the ‘grocery’ that I had bought packed into the suitcases! My daughter A had given me her list and kept adding to it via text and Facebook.

Robert out rightly refused me my right to bring back to Canada Yummy or any other brand of hardo bread – unbelievable!

Suntanned (Robert) and ten pounds fatter (me) Jamaica – Land of my Birth was left behind on March 6, 2009. It was a wonderful honeymoon destination and Tensing Pen Resort has won a special place in our hearts. Seeing old friends and spiritual guides again was a blessing and being in a place that is so familiar to me was comforting.





Most of all, the chance to make new memories was priceless. For this I am most grateful.



Claudette



P.S. Next post will examine the Land of My Birth through the lenses of a returning citizen/visitor.

Phenomenal Woman

Awhile back, I started writing a series – sort of autobiographical – and stopped.

It has been unclear to me why this happened – stopping that is. Until now.

The abrupt end to that series is not dissimilar to the way that I stopped going to weekly then bi-weekly then monthly sessions with my therapist.

Questioned by my dearest woman-friend Anni (who incidentally has been away for almost two weeks now and I miss her so much) about my decision to stop therapy, my response was “It was enough.”

Anni has this way of getting stuff out of me – a direct and forthright stare and then a “cut the bullshit and tell me the truth,” comment. That latter usually gets me talking real quickly.

“Anni,” I explained, “I have been in ‘therapy’ for a long time now, maybe not the same type and definitely not as a result of such emotional upheaval but therapy none the less.”

“What I have come to realize is that it is enough,” I continued, “Enough examination and reflection on my past and more so enough blaming of my mother and my childhood.”

That was a profound insight for me – the depth of which was not clear until the words were actually coming out of my mouth.

You see, for years my favourite pasttime was the Blame Game and I played it well. I had company at this game but not one of my playmates knew this game like I did – I was a master at it.

And then I spent a year doing Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) and met three women who challenged me at my game. They were my supervisors and they would not broker any argument from me that even hinted that my choices were my mother’s fault.

My days of playing the Blame Game came to an end in 2005 when my mother had her accident and was hospitalized with second and third degree burns.

Regular readers will recall the articles I wrote then, apologizing for my withdrawing from Comforting Words for a while, retreating to wrap my heart around the latest calamity in a string of calamities that my mother was prone to having.

This was a wonderful opportunity for me to have continued the Blame Game and even step it up a notch. It was very tempting and I had all the support I needed.

Let me be honest – my mother is no angel and it is and never has been my intention to portray her in that light. She made her mistakes and choices that placed me in situations no young girl should ever have to grapple or contend with.

Yet, today, I can testify from the bottom of my heart – she is the strongest woman I have ever met.

Moreover, in terms of Holy Boldness – she is my very best teacher.

It has taken me all of forty years, childhood sexual abuse, rape, severe domestic violence, the loss of a son, the birth and maturing of a daughter, a failed marriage, a failed same-sex partnership of 16 years, social exclusion - by society and supposedly family - migration, racism, unemployment near bankruptcy, suicide attempts and more to realize the strength of my mother.

Today as I celebrate the news that the job that I have been waiting for is finally mine after almost five years of struggling to settle in Canada, to gain recognition for my professional worth – both in terms of quality of employment and remuneration - I recognize the debt of gratitude I owe my mother, Miss Cherry.

If it were not for her example – I would not have survived my long list of travail and trials.

It if were not for her example – I could not have hung on to my sanity when the world that I knew turned dark and grim, mired in drama, lies, mystery, and even death threat by a woman-friend driven to desperation.

As I have said – my mother is no saint. And you know what – I don’t care anymore that she is not. Actually, good for her!

Miss Cherry, my mother, was never afraid to speak the truth to power, never afraid to be killed for her political beliefs, never afraid to do what she had to do in order to put food in my mouth and clothes on my body.

She never pretended to be what she was not. She grew up in the school of hard knocks and learned how to give it back when needed.

My trip to Jamaica in 2008 – the one that you are invited to join me on – will be both pleasurable and painful. I will return to the land of my birth to celebrate my 43rd, hopefully with at least ten (10) friends, and to ask my mother for forgiveness.

Rumors have it that this trip is being planned by “my boyfriend” and me, that we have started a business. I laughed when I was told that yesterday – not because it is outlandish. I laughed because this trip is way beyond any ‘relationship’ I may or may not be in.

No, I have not started a travel business and, like I told the person who informed me of this latest gossip – I don’t have a boyfriend but “several persons who I am dating and they all know that they are not exclusive with me.”

If any of them will accompany me to Jamaica in 2008, I do not know. What I know for sure is that I will be paying personal ode to my mother – in the words of Maya Angelou - the most Phenomenal Woman I know.

I do hope you will “Come Away with Me,” on this personal and pleasurable journey in 2008.

Blessings,

Claudette

Come Away With Me

This is history in the making...me writing a very short post!

However, it is one of the most exciting posts that I have written in a very different sort of way.

One of the many things I promised myself when we first came to Canada, was that I would return to my country of origin, Jamaica, the winter/spring after getting my Canadian citizenship.

The time is here to start planning this trip and there are quite a few of people already signed up!!! A tentative date has been set - February 1 - 15, 2008 and it is no coincidence that my birthday is included! I want to celebrate my 43rd with you on my island home!

At this point, you are invited to complete a survey that will help me put together the "best time of your lives" away from your country of origin and in mine!

If you scroll to the right of this screen, you will see a section titled, "Be a Part of..." that will take you to the survey.

As this trip is private and for a select group, for reasons of privacy you must first, however, email or call me for the password to access the survey. Those of you who are already members of the Comforting Words community have received the password in an email. If you are not a member of this community and would like to join us on this trip you have two choices:

Join our mailing list now! Look to the right of the screen and you will see a red box -- all you have to do is to join and select "Group Trips" as your area of interest. You will be required to provide me with some basic information about yourself, in order to be included in this very select, private and personal to me trip. The password will be sent to you.

Email me indicating your interest and we will take it from there.

I am so excited about this trip and even more excited about sharing my island home with those of you who would come. Canada is my new home but Jamaica will always have a very, very special place in my heart -- and I would really like to share that with you.

So either join our mailing list, email or call me for the password and share your needs and desires to "Come Away with Me," in 2008.

Blessings,

Claudette