I received my formal education in a classroom setting, but it was on YOUR steps that I learnt how to think. It was you who taught me not to accept, but to question EVERYTHING. It was from you that I learnt to love the written word, art of rhetoric and debate. You ignited my passion for this THING. It is a passion that consumes and haunts me. It was you who taught me the beauty of Politics and opened me up, not to party Politics but lifes Politics. Thank you!
HOWDY MR. SMITH!
By Mutryce A. Williams (Masters of Politics)
Imagine that eh! Yes, shake you head, laugh and say well, well, well, cause you in the papers now! What you think about that? I guess the School of Mr. Joseph Smith finally did pay off! Whoever said that I wasnt listening?
No love, no friendship can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it.
On the bustling street of Rawlins Avenue, St. Pauls lives Mr. Joseph Smith, a knowledgeable, interesting, funny and wise old man. He is Papa to his children and grandchildren, Uncle Joe to his nieces and nephews, Joe Smith or Mr. Smith to everybody else. He loves his country, family and church dearly. He is a phenomenal, phenomenal man, who now that I think of it has had a tremendous impact on my life. In my opinion, this man is a walking encyclopedia on life. He has an opinion on EVERYTHING. Had he been a lawyer I am certain that he would have won EVERY case that he would have tried. THE MAN IS THAT GOOD! Every Saturday afternoon, Mr. Smith and I convened on his steps or on his bench and read the paper. He would read and re-read the articles. Mr. Smith saved the papers and would often refer to them. One could ask him any question; about any issue, he would be able to tell you. I found this to be quite fascinating. There were times he would complain that my eyes were much younger than his and that I should read to him. Read it like you reading the news man, make it sound interesting! Dont just call the words! Read it like the people on TV! Read it like Connie Chung!
He would then ask in an onerous voice, so what you think about that? At times I would reply, I am just a child, I cant think, I dont know anything about that. Nonsense! He would boom, so you want to tell me you aint think nothing, you just read that and you aint think nothing! Go home to your grandmother! What they just teach you all in school, nowadays eh? He would shake his head in disbelief and say, Well, well, well, I cant believe that the child just read that whole thing and cant tell me wha she think bout it! Hanging my head, face forlorn and sullen I would saunter home. A day or two would pass, and I would return after thinking long and hard to tell him what I thought. Well, at least you think something now, aint make much sense, but you thinking! Good you! This would be his response and then it would be back to the old routine.
I would run to his house early on Saturday mornings, when I knew he hadnt had the time to read the paper as yet and read the articles or news, then try to anticipate the questions that he would ask. I would try to come up with something that I thought would make sense, something that just might impress him. I would even ask my grandmothers opinion on the news items and articles before convening for my Saturday afternoon counsel. When I returned from school at afternoons and had taken care of my chores, I dashed off to his house just to chat about the days events, to pick his brain, to debate and to learn. I dont know if he was aware but like a sponge, I absorbed and analyzed everything. Like Marcus Antony, the great orator, I often held court with my friends relaying the lessons that were taught to me by Mr. Smith. If there was an issue that somehow in their opinion did not make sense, bet your life, I would seek an audience with Mr. Smith to assist my distressed friend in solving that problem. Mr. Smith challenged me to think outside the box. We debated every and any issue. I was able to refute many claims among friends because Mr. Smith said so; after all he was the authority on all things wasnt he? There were times he would remark, You know, if I were to write for this paper, I would write on such and such an issue! He would ask, if you were to write, what would you write and how would you put it? I would respond, But Mr. Smith, I am just a child, why I want write for the paper for? This would be followed of course by the usual, Nonsense! Go home to grandmother! There were times he would remark, When you come big and write for the paper, you must write on this and that and put it like that! I respected him much, but I looked at him as if he was delusional. I might have been a weird child consumed by rhetoric, debate and what I now understand to be philosophy but that idea was far fetched. It was only a year ago when Trini-calypsonian Winston Gypsy Peter, of whom Mr. Smith and I are huge fans, questioned my curiosity for the politics of life, that I realized the impact that Mr. Smith and his teachings has had on my life. I wish that I could say that in the 27 years that I have had on earth, I have seen everything or that I have acquired some wisdom and understanding, but I cant what I can say however is that I am gracious and indeed truly blessed for having had the privilege and opportunity to have been schooled by this man who in his own right is a great philosopher.
For some reason we tend to pay honourous tributes to people after they have departed this earth. We wait until this moment to list or reminisce on the ways in which these people have had an impact on our lives. We tend to think that people ought to do something worthy of winning the Nobel Peace Prize before they could be recognized or that they have to give us a million dollars for us to be appreciative of them. We see those close to us as ordinary, when indeed we need not look hard to realize how truly extraordinary and phenomenal these people really are. We never really treasure these people. I am indeed fortunate in that this phenomenal man, Mr. Joseph Smith, impacted my life. He has left an indelible mark on my life.
HOWDY MR. SMITH
Imagine that eh! I writing for the paper now you know! What you think about that?
Laugh cause you in the papers now!
No love, no friendship can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it.
I received my formal education in a classroom setting, but it was on YOUR steps that I learnt how to think. It was you who taught me not to accept, but to question EVERYTHING. It was from you that I learnt to love the written word, art of rhetoric and debate. You ignited my passion for this THING. It is a passion that consumes and haunts me. It was you who taught me the beauty of Politics and opened me up, not to party Politics but lifes Politics. Thank you!
