A LITTLE BIT OF MY STORY

A LITTLE BIT OF MY STORY

David Wilson David Wilson

David Wilson

retired at 144dwilson

发布日期: 2022年6月21日
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LULU.COM, a publishing company, would be a natural connection to the exploitation about which I have always written; my working years began when I was a kid. My family has had teachers in it since 1892, and knowledge was always in my Grandmother's house; I was a curious non-confirming kid, the youngest of my mother's boys. I stress this because my father has a second set of children. The youngest is a physician. So in my pre-teen years, I tutored my peers and kids older than myself: Kendrick Robertson / Roberson was one of them; he went to college and studied law, and at one time, he was the Attorney General of the USA Virgin Islands. In the USA, I have tutored children until 2018.

My Grandmother died when I was eleven. She was 91 years old. I wanted her to live a little longer and be 100 years old when I became 20 years old. I continued my education at the La Filette Catholic School; this is the school where I speak admirably about my favorite teachers in a previous article. They taught me well. I was one of the many students who were taken to Queen's Park to see and be honored by Queen Elizabeth II as outstanding students; Ellen Mark and Geoffery Haynes were my Competitors from my class. The year was 1953, and two years later, hurricane Jannet devastated the Island.

Due to the hurricane, at fifteen years old, I had my first agricultural experience of planting and maintaining a garden on my own. I was also working with the Agricultural Department learning the skills of grafting and budding. That served me well; between 1960 and 1966, I was working on an estate named Mount Saint Lawrence in the Parish of Saint Marks, owned by Sydney Rennie; there, I practiced the agricultural skills I had learned. Grenada could not contain me. The travel bug was in my veins. I joined the Leeward Island Police force and was on my way to Antigua. I will not bore you with the training; I would only say it occurred in Barbados.

Many of the recruits from Grenada trained and worked with me, but I will not mention any of them unless it is relevant to the discussion. I worked at the Police Headquarters in Saint John's Antigua until Antigua got its independence from Great Britain in 1967. Grenadians who left together in 1966 stuck together. We decided to go to Montserrat since there was a choice to stay where we were or go to Saint Kitts or Montserrat; we chose the latter. That is how I ended up as a police officer on the Island of Montserrat. I did the beat for a while, then transferred to the Criminal Investigation Department. My duty there is to work with the prosecutor, preparing the case files with the appropriate laws and evidence.

In 1970, Sargent Aymer and I were sent to Jamaica to study investigative technic. In 1972 I was on my way to London, England, to learn Photography, Fingerprint, and Handwriting. The day I arrived, it was snowing; it was the first time I had seen snow and so many dead trees. Later I found out that the trees were not dead at all. In class, there were Police from many Commonwealth nations. I became friendly with a guy from Togo and an Englishman who took us around. I visited the lodge where James of Scotland stayed before he entered England to become King James I of England. I visited museums in London with artifacts from Israel depicting images of Israelites on a plaque when the city of Lachish was conquered.

I returned to Montserrat and resumed my duties in the Criminal Investigation Department. But unfortunately, Harry Bisset, the Commissioner of Police, and I never saw things in the same light. Apart from working in the CID, I would carry diplomatic mail from Island to Island. A disagreement occurred; he charged me, and the Chief of Police, a native of Trinidad, convicted me. I appealed, and the Governor reviewed the case, and I won. It became difficult to work with the Commissioner I know to be prejudiced. I resigned from the Police force and worked with John Kelsick, a lawyer, for two years before migrating to the USA in 1976.

The last I heard of Harry Bisset, he was on his way to Australia. If he is still alive, he should be 102 years or older; I judged him to be at least 20 years older than me. I arrived in the USA in the dead of winter. In New York, with four children ages 8, 6, 5, and 3 years respectively, I was bumped off the flight that would take me directly to Boston. My experiences in the USA had just begun. You walked into the office and filled out the application in those days. I did not know, so I walked into an office in South Boston and filled out an application for a job. I remembered that I had not done something on the application. I returned a few minutes later to correct the application I handed to the secretary, but it could not be found.

I worked in Medford and got very good at the job; management asked me to train two teenage white boys, which I did; both were promoted to forepersons with pay raises, telling me who taught them what to do. But, unfortunately, I got injured on the job; I spent fifteen days on my back in the hospital; my brother-in-law John and Ryner and both kids I had trained gave false evidence. One would think that no human being could be that unlucky, but it happened again; this time, I was working with the bank Cambridge Trust as a check sorter when I trained my replacement, a white female from Cape Cod. This occurred when Cambridge Trust moved its office to Alewife.

Would you believe it? My troubles had just begun. The problems that foreshadowed my divorce and threw my life in disarray.1985 was a turning point in my life- I was homeless. First, I spent whatever savings I had to keep me from sleeping on the street, $20 per night at the YMCA, until my savings in the USA were exhausted. Then, while working in Montserrat, I had invested in a Heineken brewery in Saint Lucia; I cashed it in. When that cash was finished, I reached out to my daughter in Canada, but she ignored me.

Reluctantly, I went to the Long Island shelter; it changed my life where I put my agricultural experience to work. I helped grow fresh food to feed the homeless and myself. I worked outside of the Long Island Shelter and saved my money. In 2000 a housing advocate assisted me in finding an apartment in a project that was just completed on Park street in Dorchester, and I have been at the same address since. While working in Montserrat, I wrote short stories which were broadcast on Radio Antilles: here is where the beginning of my article fits in with LULU.COM.

In 2013 I wrote and self-published two books through the publisher LULU.Com: 1) A World Without Black People. The book gives a rundown of who the Israelites are. Google has reviewed it, and A World Without Black People has been on sale in Barns & Noble, Amazon, and many book outlets worldwide. My sister, a physician, working in a Canadian Hospital, recently bought a copy on Amazon; many of my friends have bought copies. 2) Random Thoughts, a book of poems expressing how I feel on various subjects. LULU used to communicate with me but stopped abruptly. No matter how I tried, I cannot get in touch with them. The arrangement was to collect the revenue generated and pay it to me. I am at the same address watching my work on my phone, advertised by Goodreads in June 2022.

I try and make the best out of a bad situation. However, I cannot change the robbery, murder, and lies culture. Unfortunately, it has worked so well for this society that theft, murder, and lies have become the norm. Look at your daily news; the government who are scammers are constantly warning seniors about scammers. The weak in every field have become prey to the strong. I am not writing fiction; I am writing the things I have experienced. The abrupt cut-off of communication by LULU.Com makes me suspicious, and I am a researcher. I see my work in book outlets worldwide; some places even have PDF files. LULU, I am at the same address. I will be grateful send the check/ cheque. I will make sure it is not returned to the sender.

David LG Wilson

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