Turn out the lights, the party’s over
THE REDHEADED Stranger says the high is gone; the party’s over; all the free samples have disappeared; withdrawal has begun.
I can’t believe that it’s all over baby
Not after all that we’ve been through
I can’t believe that you no longer love me
I’ll be forever loving you.
Those capable of independent thought are grateful political hacks must take a break some sleeping soundly others weeping loudly as Patti Page warned.
But most Jamaicans
• understood last night’s result meant nothing to daily life;
• never experienced the unrequited l ove of gimmicky election cycles that others feel; and
• are overjoyed it’s done.
However, now, they must deal with fiscal, spiritual and emotional loss from yet another campaign filled with pointless promises; nonsensical name - calling; dredging of prehistoric political past; and terrible tragedy.
I still can’t believe it when I wake up you’re not here.
I get dressed but I just sit there and stare.
And then I start thinkin’ about the things I done wrong
and some things I didn’t do that I sure wish I had.
The heartbreaking death of a 15 year old boy who fell from a political motorcade’s bus drove me to tweet this comment on February 18:
“This nonsensical Game of Numbers played by JLP/PNP to prove who can produce a bigger crowd is disconnected from reality. It is irrelevant to the election results. It’s also dangerous. Why is a 15 yearold boy being bused in a political motorcade? Can he vote? For pity’s sake!”
Since then I’ve listened to political commentators’ painfully patronising twaddle regarding children’s right to be involved in the political process. One particularly brainless buffoon sanctimoniously pronounced this is how children learn about their country’s politics.
Children SHOULD be involved in the political process. Children SHOULD learn how their country’s politics works. Children joining in uncontrollably undisciplined motorcades filled with politically uneducated party sycophants won’t achieve either of these laudable objectives. During this silly season, one political sheep lost a leg and another, being groomed for a life of automatic adulation, died in political motorcades promoting lawless, irresponsible behaviour as partisan political policy.
Political leaders’ reactions were cringe worthy. Instead of acknowledging at least vicarious guilt, PM and camera crew rushed to the one-legged lady’s side to essentially promise her a prosthetic while Opposition Leader asked PNP devotees, also on camera, to vote PNP “in honour” of the dead boy.
Are we Phareal? Children’s involvement in the political process should begin at home and school where, from 1962, Civics should’ve been taught! Older children (15 year olds qualify) can be taken to political rallies or even Party Conferences by a parent/guardian offering close supervision and educational commentary. Jumping from bus to bus in a political motorcade? Not. In. My. Ludo. Game! Skeeter Davis was a favourite of my best ever friend, horseracing legend Wayne DaCosta, who was tragically taken by God during the pandemic. Skeeter’s 1973 single I Can’t Believe that it’s All Over was, ironically, her final hit.
I recall vividly, in 1959, standing outside my front gate with mother and father all holding brooms to characterise PNP’s “sweep them out” campaign. Circa January 1972, my stepfather, a “die-hearted” Comrade who conducted daily political home schooling, took me to a PNP meeting in Central Kingston. There, never standing more than six inches from him, I watched and listened to all speakers ending with P.J. Patterson and Michael Manley while he added political context.
And don’t bother cowering in the last refuge of political stooges namely the word “privilege.” I wasn’t born big. I’m not “big” now. My father was a teacher. My mother was mostly a housewife until her second husband (a modest import agent) died. Afterwards, my mother lied that she knew shorthand to get a Bank Manager’s secretary job. She taught herself shorthand on the job. Before long she was the General Manager.
In my own professional life, which would’ve been impossible but for a moment of Michael Manley “free education” madness, I’ve repeatedly refused work that included the slightest hint of discomfort whether with client or subject matter. Consequently my family has lived a simple life. On December 31, 1997, I expressly embraced “poverty” by leaving my position as a senior partner of a leading law firm to spend more time with our sons. The good news is “poverty” has steadfastly refused to return my embrace.
So my situation isn’t special. The ability to politically educate children is available to EVERY responsible parent and EVERY school.
Peace and Love.