My paternal grandfather has been mentioned many times throughout the weaving of my story, but he was such a fine gentleman, that I felt he should have a special place in Bermuda Tapestry.

From as far back as I can remember, Pa Fred was always there for me. When I came to live with my grandparents at the age of 4, he took me under his wing as a "special project". Soon I was  following him around whenever he was at home, getting involved with his chores, and doing "manual" labour or whatever he was involved with.  Pa Fred was a tall, slender man, with silver-grey hair and sparkling blue eyes. His skin was weathered from the salt air as he spent most of his time at sea, but his abundance for life never daunted.

The lay of the land he owned can be described as follows: We lived on an incline. The top of the property was a garden, rich with soil, where he planted sweet potatoes, bananas, pawpaw and coconut trees. At times, we would tend that garden, the chicken coop and the rabbit hut, or feed the goat he kept for at home for milking. I would climb up the trees with ease to collect the fruits from the pawpaw and coconut trees, and he would stand at the bottom with outstretched arms, catching the bounty that I gently lowered so the pawpaw would not be bruised. I suspect he stood there to also reassure me that he was my safety net. Close by this area was a tiny, well cared for cottage which Papa Fred built for the purpose of housing his tools and equipment, as well as a lounge area where he easily enjoyed an afternoon nap after some particularly exhausting chore. This little cottage was affectionately called, "The Sugar Shack". I often did my homework there as Mama Helen was so immaculate in the main house, that I felt uncomfortable putting books and paper all over the place.

"The Sugar Shack" was a haven for Pa Fred and I. It was our own little world.  A place where I could become totally absorbed in the book sets that lined the shelves, and where I could sit at a special table and chair he had built for me out of cedar wood. In this same setting Pa Fred also took the opportunity to provide some history which he said he was passing on to the younger generation. These were stories from the past. He would weave massive tales about the sea, the ships, his going aboard the massive cruise ships, and I would imagine his climbing up the rope ladder in his pilot's uniform, or bringing the pilot boat along side the floating hotel without endangering himself or the crew.  This required great skill, as sometimes the sea would be rough and the pilot boat was a mere speck compared to the size of the cruise ships. These brave, strong men, were intuitive about the sea, knowing exactly where the shoals were located and where to guide the ship through the channel without endangering the lives aboard, or damaging the vessels.

He had planted an herb garden for Mama Helen and constructed a cooking area with a massive outdoor fire place with large black mental pots and pans. This was an era when family homes on St. David's Island were built and designed to suit every occasion and purpose.  There was a separate area to clean and prepare the catch of the day and an area for the rain barrel which caught the main water supply used for drinking, and bathing. A whitewashed tank (reservoir) was appropriately located near the kitchen. When the tank had to be emptied, cleaned and whitewashed internally and externally, it was my chore as I grew older to go down the stepladder and whitewash inside the tank.

In the middle of the property was the main house.  This was Mama Helen's haven. This 5-room cottage contained a kitchen, dining area, 2 bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and a massive front porch which overlooked the bay. There was one room in the house which was off limits to everyone except for Sundays when they would allow us to go in, sit with our legs crossed, hands in laps, in order not to touch anything.  This was radio time. Enclosed in that room was a beautiful Grundig German-made radio in a dark brown wooden cabinet with a smooth finish that shone like polished glass.  This was probably their most prized piece of furniture. Heaven only knows from whence it came. We were allowed to listen to a radio program called, "The Shadow Knows",  which was a spooky program, but it was the only outside contact we had.  Television was unheard of. Here we would sit contentedly listening to the weekly program, in the finery of their living room. On the walls hung gilded frames of our ancestors. There were fern stands and artifacts from far off places.  After the program had come to a close, we would discuss what we heard afterwards in a forum format. Each taking turns expressing our thoughts.  Monday through Saturday the living room was off limits, and kept locked.

In front of the house was another sprawling vegetable garden with rows of carrots, cabbage, white potatoes, lettuce, cassava, and to one side of it was an area especially for me. Here, Pa Fred planted peanuts for our snack!  He used to call them gooberpeas. Bordering the garden on three sides were Mama Helen's varieties of beautiful and fragrant lilies, in assorted colours. Two species, in particular, I remember well; those were the Calla Lily and the Amaryllis. She told me as a young girl that when I married, she would be most pleased if my bouquet consisted of Calla lilies. I never forgot her request and, indeed, carried out her suggestion.

To the side of the garden and between two live cedar trees Pa Fred had built a lovely bench that we would sit on and watch the boats passing between the smaller islands as they cruised around the bay area and to other parts of Bermuda. Children were playing popular games and building sand castles on the beach, and we would watch them as well.

The main access to our home was along a cobbled path bordered by an ancient stone wall well over 100 years old which was covered with Honey Suckle, Blue Bells, or Passion Flower vines depending on the flowering season. Beyond that, was the Alexandria roots, Locust and Wild Honey, and a Pomegranate tree. Down the front steps and across the street was the boat house, the dock and our private boats. We lived on this massive piece of land, all well cultivated and used to capacity.  No architect, engineer, or contractor could have drafted plans any better than my Pa Fred. The plans for this area were never on paper - he took them out of his head! He provided everything for the family, and we wanted for nothing.

One day as Pa Fred and I went off to "The Battery" which was an area long since deserted by the soldiers housed there during the Great Wars, for it was here that he kept his cows and other goats allowing them to roam freely. He would return there each day to care for, and milk the herd. To our amazement one of the goats went racing past as though it were possessed. Pa Fred soon noticed that the poor goat was covered in bees and frantic to relieve the pain from their stings.  In a flash we started to give chase in an attempt to divert him from going over the cliffs straight ahead, and into the ocean below.  The inevitable happened. Pa Fred and I stood overhead looking far below in total shock as the poor unfortunate animal paddled wildly to stay afloat and became encircled in an ever increasing deep red flow The goat had been bitten in half by a shark with the front of his body still moving quickly in the water.  One final attack and he was gone from sight.  Pa Fred decided from that moment on that his animals would be kept fenced in.

As my grandfather got older many chores were handed down to me. Mama Helen would fuss that he ought not go up and down  ladders anymore, or dig in the garden long hours, among other things.  I was touched by her obvious deep concern and love for him which she sometimes did not exhibit. I am sure this was due to her very busy schedule.  Pa Fred accepted her advice graciously. He had worked extremely hard all of his life and it was time for him to rest in the evenings.

My grandfather was a quiet, peaceful man, who had spent his entire life dedicated to his family, the community, and to the Bermuda Government.  He chose never to raise his voice, and his eye held a constant knowledgeable twinkle.

Pa Fred owned tools and he used them wisely and widely to assist all of his children with property and home ownership.  He made fishing nets using a bobbin and string which when completed, was used for hauling in bait.  The nets hung between cedar poles near the boat house and when they needed repair, he taught me how to do it. I would go there after school and repair or start new nets while he tended to other boat chores along with my two uncles.  We were a team.  He called me "cotton head" for at the time I had soft bouncy curls that never quite seemed to stay in place.

I loved my Pa Fred, he shared his life with me.  He taught me values, and encouraged me to exhibit stamina in order to survive in the face of adversity.  He influenced me to learn as much as I could. Not only book learning, which was Mama Helen's passion, but also the things that takes a person through life - common sense, morals and the ability to reason, to facilitate, to use my hands and God-given talents, to never fear and to meet challenges head on. 

This is my Pa Fred.  His death left me devastated.  He was the only male figure that I have ever known who loved me for who I was and that love was unconditional. I remember protecting him for anything unpleasant or anyone whom I felt would cause him unhappiness. He allowed me to be me and he gave me the freedom to fly and experiment with life. I thank him for teaching me the secret of inner strength. I know that no matter what trials I must face, I can always call on the extra reserve and push to overcome them and move on. I invite you to share your experiences about someone in your life who you can never forget!