Conversation with Uncle Sydney

My experiences and my moods fluctuated rapidly on Monday, August 12, 2013. I expected a female at 9 AM. By 30 A.M. she did not appear where I am domiciled. Thus, I left. When I returned, I accessed a rather rude and disturbing note apparently written by her. However, between 1.54 P.M. and 2.24 P.M., I was fortunate. I contacted and communicated with my Uncle Sydney. What’s not to like about it? Well when my Uncle migrated from British Guiana to the United Kingdom; I was a two-month-old fetus.

I am ecstatic. I am nostalgic. I experienced my Uncle by telephone. Perhaps, I will also by email correspondence.

It’s my observations that siblings of natural family environment experiences great difficulties bonding with each other in this modern age in which humans dwell and especially in the metropolitan areas of western societies. The emphasis being placed upon the nuclear family. In poor neighborhoods, the “crabs in the barrel” syndrome are all too commonplace. Therefore, one can imagine the pattern of behaviors of siblings of some fragmented family experiences. The concepts of “a dog eat dog world” is ever present. People in this group are simply just too much; too full of themselves. Thus, quite often they conveniently forget to even mention their parents and/or siblings to their immediate relatives. Thus I was not at all surprised when I learnt from my Uncle Sydney dwelling for some sixty (60) years in London, United Kingdom; he never heard of my brother Colin and I. In the recent past he met Hamilton, Compton and Cheryl; probably in New York, USA. However, he had no recollection of the names of siblings; George, Mariette, Colin and I. Thus, he was quite surprised to learn his brother and my mother have other children. I told him I think it’s conceivable he was aware of six of the seven children as of the day he immigrated to the United Kingdom, and the fact that he had neither seen nor heard of them for the longest while removed them from his memory. I told him George was about eleven years and ten months years old; Hamilton was about eight years four months’ old; Mariette was about seven years and two months old; Compton was about four years and ten months old; Cheryl was about three years and one month old; Colin was about one year and three months’ old; and I was a fetus of about two months; when he left British Guiana.

He exposed a great sense of humor. Something, about George E. Ross (my father) was extremely handsome but still he was rather much more good looking than his eldest brother. He suggested I send an image of myself. I told several Guyanese claim even Ptolemy Reid was much more handsome than I. He was lost. So I said I am aware I Inherited his father's Y chromosomes and several mannerisms of his. However, I am afraid my father's good looks, his charisma and his skills as a master pianist escaped me.

I felt for about thirty minutes I belonged to the Ross experience in Hopetown, West Coast Berbice. 

Oh! Well I am still Sancho. I will always be Muriel's son. Truth will triumph....