Maya Calypso Durham...
...is nine years old today. Geez... Are you kidding me? This young lady is my daughter! (Said with nine years worth of awe at that fact.) She is as lovely in person as looks in this photo...
What I did to deserve the family I have escapes me. I don't know. Blessed by whomever does the blessing, I guess. I'm not sure how I got them, but I'm doing my best to be worthy of them now. Maybe I got them on credit, now I'm chipping away at the monthly statements - happily.
Maya was born in Scotland. We lived in the very small village of Forneth at the time, in Perthshire. (Go find that on a map - if you can!) I'm talking sheep and rabbits here, wonderful views, turnips and rape seed flowers (which bloom brilliant yellow). My in laws lived just down the road, around the bend, and my father in law, the poet and novelist and naturalist J Laughton Johnston, picked up the old quill and penned a few words to commemorate the occasion. The poem is included below.
Should you be inclined to read it do note that Laughton was writing from the Shetland Isles, where he was at the time of Maya's birth and where he and Patricia now live. Also note that my family is from the Caribbean, Trinidad in particular - hence the Calypso in Maya's name and the mention in this poem...
Maya (2.7.99)
The Flags are flying for Maya,
Yellow above the stiff green blades
around the mill at Bousta.
Overhead another raingoose rides the hypotenuse
and beyond the skerries and the tirricks
Brilliant white birds fold themselves into origami darts,
hurtle to the sea
and re-emerge as fish-stuffed gannets.
I look out over the Bay of St Magnus
And wonder what parallels, if any,
There might be between these North Sea islands
and those of the Caribbean?
What a hanself you have been given,
such a harvest of far-flung seed.
Maya,
who can look out at seabirds from so many shores
and call each one - home.
J Laughton Johnston
Bousta July 1999
(Next year, on Sage's birthday, I'll post the poem Grandpa wrote about Sage as well.)
What I did to deserve the family I have escapes me. I don't know. Blessed by whomever does the blessing, I guess. I'm not sure how I got them, but I'm doing my best to be worthy of them now. Maybe I got them on credit, now I'm chipping away at the monthly statements - happily.Maya was born in Scotland. We lived in the very small village of Forneth at the time, in Perthshire. (Go find that on a map - if you can!) I'm talking sheep and rabbits here, wonderful views, turnips and rape seed flowers (which bloom brilliant yellow). My in laws lived just down the road, around the bend, and my father in law, the poet and novelist and naturalist J Laughton Johnston, picked up the old quill and penned a few words to commemorate the occasion. The poem is included below.
Should you be inclined to read it do note that Laughton was writing from the Shetland Isles, where he was at the time of Maya's birth and where he and Patricia now live. Also note that my family is from the Caribbean, Trinidad in particular - hence the Calypso in Maya's name and the mention in this poem...
Maya (2.7.99)
The Flags are flying for Maya,
Yellow above the stiff green blades
around the mill at Bousta.
Overhead another raingoose rides the hypotenuse
and beyond the skerries and the tirricks
Brilliant white birds fold themselves into origami darts,
hurtle to the sea
and re-emerge as fish-stuffed gannets.
I look out over the Bay of St Magnus
And wonder what parallels, if any,
There might be between these North Sea islands
and those of the Caribbean?
What a hanself you have been given,
such a harvest of far-flung seed.
Maya,
who can look out at seabirds from so many shores
and call each one - home.
J Laughton Johnston
Bousta July 1999
(Next year, on Sage's birthday, I'll post the poem Grandpa wrote about Sage as well.)
Labels: Family Stuff, Maya Calypso Durham, Maya's Birthday
posted by David Anthony Durham at
8:52 AM
10 Comments
Links to this post
