Janet Elsie (West) Miller Barbados, 24 March 1936 - Florida, 16 June 2024 MY FOREVER FRIEND Janet, around 1965 “And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.” Those words of my favourite poet, Kahlil Gibran, perfectly describe the special sweet friendship shared by Janet and me for over sixty years. It was through our husbands and the Barbados Polo Club that we first came to know each other in 1965, as our men were both playing members. Trevor and Janet were a young married couple and their children would come to polo afternoons at the club - Niki was 9, Roddy 7 and Juliette was just 5. I was completely new to the polo scene, just about to start off married life with my handsome Tony and begin a family of our own. I remember how stunningly beautiful Janet was, with her long raven hair sometimes worn in a single thick braid over her shoulder. I admired how she always looked so stylish. She was always warm and friendly, we hit it off from the very start. Although Janet was 11 years older than me, we never noticed the age difference. She took me under her wing, so to speak. Little did we know then how entwined our lives would become, and that we would share a life-long bond born out of tragedies and heartbreak on the one hand, and happiness and joy on the other. Janet and I were both married when we were only 18 years young - she to her first love Trevor Davis in 1954, me to my first love Tony Archer in 1966. We both enjoyed a very happy married life as young couples raising our families in Barbados. Tony and I lived on the south coast, and I still remember the Sunday afternoon drives to the countryside with our young ones to visit them at the 17th century Colleton Plantation Great House in St. John when Trevor was the Manager of the sugar-cane plantation there. Janet always insisted on serving up an impromptu supper, and we never went back home without Trevor giving us bags of some home-grown produce. Being “polo wives” we were always entertaining or being entertained in our shared circle of friends, as is the custom in Barbados. Janet was a fabulous cook and hostess, she had a flair for throwing memorable parties. She was one of the most positive, talented, industrious and energetic women I ever knew. She sewed beautifully, making her own outfits, home furnishings and always things for others. When I was expecting my first child in 1967, she turned up one afternoon with a locally hand-woven basket, beautifully decorated with dainty flounces of blue chiffon and lace, filled with everything I would need to look after changing and bathing the baby - right down to diaper pins. Yes, pins, for home-made cloth diapers, no Pampers back then! Along with the basket, she had made me a pretty blue hanging holder for stacking folded diapers. Janet must have had a feeling that my first would be a boy, so chose blue! These I used for all five of my quickly produced family, and they remain vividly in my memories. We had no idea then, in those first blissful years, what lay ahead for both of us. In 1973, eighteen years into their marriage, Trevor was involved in a car accident that tragically took his life. He was only 41. We were shattered by this tragedy and filled with compassion for Jan and her young children. Our friendship grew in a different and deeper way. We included each other in whatever was going on. We admired her courage and resourcefulness as she coped with her grief while working hard to develop her Victoria Florist business. She operated this from her home in Victoria, St. John - the beautiful new home that she and Trevor had built and moved into shortly before that fatal accident. Several years later when we learned about her Dr. Arthur Miller in Florida and met him, we couldn’t have been happier for her. They were a beautiful couple. Art was a real gentle sweetheart and adored “the Bajan lady” as he liked to refer to her, with a twinkle in his eye. Art shared Janet’s love of family and Bajan ways of family life. Tony and I became close friends of Art too, and life went on with several happy visits back and forth. I even remember a time when Art’s son Bret worked for a while with Tony at our family business J.A.K. Archer & Co. Ltd. in Barbados. But in 1984, also eighteen years into our own marriage, another cruel twist of fate would suddenly take my own Tony from me and our children. He suffered a fatal cardiac arrest in our car while I was rushing him for emergency treatment in an asthma attack. He was just 45. By incredible and poignant coincidence, Trevor died on Saturday July 14th 1973, and Tony died on Saturday July 14th 1984. Janet and I were both widowed when we were only 37 years old. Just as Trevor’s sudden death had been a shock to the Barbadian community, so was Tony’s. Upon hearing the news, Janet and Art took the next plane to Barbados to be with me and my 5 young children. That first Christmas of 1984, Janet and Art insisted that I come and bring the children to spend the Christmas holidays with them at their Bal Harbor home in Florida, and even extended the invitation to Tony’s parents. He was their only child. We will never forget their kindness and generosity. To this day, my children remember Janet with utmost love and affection. My eldest, for whom she made the blue baby basket, summed it up: “Auntie Janet didn’t have a bad bone in her body”. Janet and I loved to go shopping together in Florida, and often bought the same clothes and accessories, as we had pretty much the same taste. She took me to all her favourite stores and loved to fool the store attendants that we were sisters - and they believed us! She loved that game and it brought giggles galore – “bare sport” as she would say! Well truth be said, we really loved each other like sisters, in every possible way. As for me, in 1985 I got married again to someone Janet knew. David MacKenzie had been married to her cousin, Anne Bayley, sister of Patti Mull who introduced her to Art. Anne had died in December of 1984. Janet took me shopping for the wedding, helped me select the guipure lace and style for my wedding gown. She and Art flew to Barbados to be with me on the big day. During my 22-year marriage to David, we continued our friendships through visits and went on several cruise holidays together. Janet was always full of fun, and the laughs and adventures we shared, together with our mutual Bajan friends Keith and Angela Melville were epic. Unfortunately my second marriage ended in divorce, and again Janet and Art flew to Barbados and helped me through the second most difficult phase of my life. A few years after my divorce I remarried and was delighted to introduce my Dutch husband, Meindert van der Meulen, to my dearest of friends, Janet and Art. They welcomed him with open arms into their homes in Jensen Beach and Hutchinson Island, Florida. Their home was filled with handcrafted Barbadian mahogany furniture - heirlooms from Janet’s family. We have had wonderful visits with them and their family and our lives have been enriched by their friendship. Where else could I stay and have an African Grey greet me “Good morning, Auntie Valerie”? We miss them dearly and treasure every memory of the laughter and sharing of all the inevitable ups and downs of life. I settled in the Netherlands with Meindert, and because of the physical distance between us now, I regret that we could not visit Janet and Art as often as we used to when we were living closer to each other. Janet’s birthday was 24th March, Tony’s was 23rd March – how could we ever forget? It was one day we always made sure to call each other to celebrate and appreciate our shared life experiences. It’s hard to put sixty years of this special friendship into one short story, for there are so many layers and times to remember. Suffice to say, we were always there for each other, and for this I will always be grateful. Meindert and I, along with my children Paul, Wayne, Richard, Ingrid and Phil, extend love and condolences to all Janet’s family. I shut my eyes and see her beautiful face, hear her laughing, always fun-loving and forever young at heart. Sleep easy my dearest friend, Janet, you have lived a life of beauty, goodness and kindness that will long be remembered. Your children will make you proud as they carry on your legacy. You will always be remembered by everyone who was lucky enough to have known and loved you. Especially me. Valerie Sheppard – 7 September, 2024 Janet, Art and myself - Florida 2007 In the tapestry of life, friendships weave, A bond so strong, you’d never believe, The way they light our darkest night, Guiding us with their unwavering light. Through stormy seas and skies so gray, Friends stand beside us, come what may, Their laughter, a melody that warms the heart, In this timeless dance, we’re never apart. In the garden of memories, they’re the bloom, In every corner of our heart’s sweet room, The tears we share and secrets confide, In the realm of friendship, we cannot hide. Through trials and triumphs, they hold our hand, In the intricate web of life, they understand, The unspoken words, the silent plea, Friends know us better than we often see. When life’s burdens weigh heavy and low, Friends offer solace, a safe place to go, Their kindness a balm for every wound, In this symphony of love, our souls are attuned. A lifeline to happiness, to soothe our pains,
 Friendship, a treasure, so precious and true, 
In the garden of hearts, it forever blooms for you. By: Vyomi Shah Trevor de Lisle Davis - 1931-1973 - Barbados Trevor's Way, Bridgetown, Barbados named after the late Trevor Davis. Trevor was initially responsible for the beautification of this recreational space. It extends from the Cheapside Fish Market, down to the Port of Bridgetown. (video by Barbados Port Inc.)

Meindert van der Meulen and Valerie Sheppard Little Bentley, Barbados - 27 July 2013 I'm Valerie, a Trini-born Sheppard, now the eldest of my family. My father, Andrew Sheppard , was the tenth child in a family of thirteen children. From my early memories of family life with my dad, Barbadian-born mother Betty and my six siblings I remember evenings in our drawing-room hearing him relate with love, humour and passion, stories about his boy days and the joys and challenges of growing up in a large family at their Richmond Street home in Port- of-Spain. I was a child in the fifties, there was no TV in the West Indies yet, certainly no computers but always music, conversations and stories. I remember and treasure his stories about the old times, many of them left behind for us in his beautiful handwriting. Family means the world to me, and I have inherited my father's love for writing and for telling the stories. In our younger days, we seem not to have time nor perhaps enough interest to really find out about our families. I mean, really find out. I look back now and wish I had asked all the questions I want to ask now, from all those beloved family members whom I knew and loved so well, but who have now passed on. We tend to think we'll always have them around. I wish I had taken notes, or even recorded some of the tales on tape. Now that I'm older and have finished raising my family, I find myself absorbed in knowing more about my ancestors, where they came from, how and where they lived, what are the things that helped make us, as a family, who and what we are. I feel it is important to pass these stories on to our children throughout the generations. I was blessed when someone who shares my love and appreciation for family and family history came into my life. My Dutch husband, Meindert van der Meulen, has encouraged me to pursue my passion for this, and has helped me and taught me the ins and outs of his hobby, genealogy. It's a time-consuming, precise, but very enjoyable and rewarding pastime. Together, we have worked on building our Sheppard Family Tree. To achieve this, we have contacted family members directly by email, traveled to Trinidad and spent a few days pouring through the ancient official registers lodged in the archives of the Legal Department in Port- of-Spain. We've talked with the older generation who have shared their memories and treasured family Bibles containing notes of births, marriages and deaths. We've contacted archival departments, including those of the military, in Trinidad, England and Ireland. We traveled to Chichester, England - the birthplace of my great-grandfather Alfred Sheppard, where we obtained documents. Meindert and I have spent endless hours sifting through the data, and recording it. We have also scanned and archived the old photos. Using all these ingredients, I felt it was time to put them into a narrative to share with family members. Since launching my website in 2010, starting with my paternal Sheppard family, I expanded into my maternal side doing all my own research, aided by photographs and accounts from living family members. While doing this I find myself imagining what life was like for our ancestors, without all the conveniences and technology we have nowadays. Family traditions and stories were handed down orally, and for this I'm truly grateful. Nowadays, we are able to access information like never before, and we also are able to share to family outside of our own small family circle. Over the years, Meindert's feeling for preserving and archiving special family moments drove him to film various occasions. Years later, we digitized and edited these so that they could be shared with the family. They are a reminder of the importance of appreciating the precious moments with our families. Here he is pictured in Trinidad with my eldest cousin, Joan Bodu filming for the documentary "50th Wedding Anniversary - Audrey & Don", which was filmed in Trinidad and Barbados in 1993. Click here to see all the family videos For reasons of privacy protection for living members of the family, I have not included the family tree on this site. If you would like to have more information, please email me, I'd love to hear from you. I also administer two private Facebook family groups and would love to welcome family members. See also: Friendships - Partnerships - Family Ties Archer Family Barbados J.A.K.(Tony) Archer - Babados Polo Club Descendants - BBC Radio 4 Contact me YouTube

Some Childhood Memories Growing up in the British West Indies Valerie in Ursuline Convent school uniform at "Norgate" in Barbados - 1958 The first memory I have of my Bajan grandparents, Esmée and Garnet St. Hill, was when they lived in a three-bedroom bungalow called “Norgate” on Dayrells Road, just before the corner of Navy Gardens, in the southern parish of Christ Church, Barbados. They had already sold the family home "Ypres" at the corner of 1st Avenue and Pine Road in Belleville, where my mother and all her siblings were born and raised. When they bought their new home it was called "Mins Court". Why they renamed it "Norgate" I never knew. Cousins Helen St. Hill and David Mosher believe they did that that after their visit to Canada where they stayed in Norgate, the area in which their daughters Thelma and Clem lived with their Canadian husbands and families in the fifties. My grandparents' home "Norgate" was next door to the corner house, “Macneath”. Every home in Barbados seemed to have a name of particular significance to the family who owned it. Just before my 11th birthday in September of 1958, I came over from Trinidad with my mother, as I was going to start school at the Ursuline Convent in Barbados and stay with my grandparents during term time. New uniforms, new surroundings, and a totally new way of life from what I had been accustomed to at our home in San Fernando, Trinidad. Mummy went back to Trinidad, and I settled in with Granny and Pop. I had a nice bedroom, clean and neat as a pin, cream painted furniture, a washbasin in the corner. There was a little cream-painted desk by the windows where I did my homework and wrote weekly letters to my parents in Trinidad. I loved the lined writing pads that always had glamorous screen stars on the covers. Sometimes I used blue postage pre-paid aerograms. On my bed was a blue and white candlewick bedspread. Over the bed on the wall hung a print of an angel carrying a small child over a bridge on a stormy night, a turbulent river surging below. That always fascinated me and must have made an impression as 65 years later I still vividly remember it! My first impression when I arrived in Barbados was how clean and orderly everything was. The drive from Seawell Airport along the south coast was magical as the bright turquoise sea glistened alongside the road. With the windows rolled down (no airconditioned cars in those days) you could hear the waves and smell the ocean. I remember passing a sort of billboard of a huge, colourful macaw somewhere near Oistins, I believe it was an advertisement for Doorley's Rum. I was surprised that my grandparents never closed the windows at night, they stayed wide open with the breeze blowing in, and there were no burglar bars. Granny St. Hill was a housekeeper of note. She kept an exercise book with all of the maid’s daily duties and time-table written down in her clear, rounded handwriting. There were also pages that laid out weekly and monthly duties, such as cleaning the brass, silverware, windows, polishing the mahogany furniture etc. There was a strict routine, and their house rules were “A place for everything, and everything in its place.” I was told that I was to take off my school uniform as soon as I came home from school, hang it neatly on a hanger “to air” and that I could use 3 clean shirts and one tunic per week. Navy blue tunic, white shirt, brown laced up shoes, white socks turned down to the ankle, and a navy blue beret with the school badge bearing the motto "Serviam", to be worn while out on the road. There were penalties to be paid at school if you were seen not wearing your school beret on the road! To me, it was a completely different world from my Trinidad home. Everything was routine and scheduled at my Bajan grandparents' home. I had been accustomed to more spontaneous and rather chaotic home life with my siblings (there were just three of us at the time.) Unplanned drives with my parents and dropping in unexpectedly to visit friends was normal in Trinidad. "Stay and have something to eat, nah". . . grown-ups drank and chatted, the kids played and ran wild till late. We often went to the movies with our parents - "Matinee show", with hot channa in brown paper cones bought from a vendor outside the cinema. We sometimes stopped to buy rotis from East Indian roadside vendors, watching them flip the roti skins on to the hot coalpots. Best rotis ever! Fresh hops breads from the "parlours" and Charlie's black pudding - there was none of that in this totally different Barbados world. Two islands close to each other, yet so different. Unlike in Trinidad, maids were called by their surnames only. In Trinidad, our helper was Laura, in Barbados, Granny’s maid was called Scott. Back then, household helpers were called servants. I never knew Scott's first name. I remember that Scott turned up for work each day in her morning uniform, and had to wear a green cap and apron at all times. She lived nearby so would knock off for an hour or so after serving lunch and cleaning up the kitchen, then reappear in the afternoon donning her white cap and apron, perfectly starched and laundered. Scott called me “Miss Valerie” and my grandparents were addressed as Master and Mistress. To my young Trini ears, that sounded strange and somehow quaint. In Trinidad, Mummy was Madam and Daddy was "Suh" or "Mistah Sheppad". Bajan maids also had a peculiar habit of saying “yes please” or “no please” when asked a question. That also sounded very odd to me. Never yes or no without “please” added on. Granny St. Hill kept an exercise book in which she wrote her grocery lists. The telephone table with the black rotary-dial telephone, number 7224, was next to the window in the dining room, and a mahogany cane-bottomed chair ready. There she sat and called in her grocery order from Alleyne, Arthur & Co. and was told when to expect the delivery. On the appointed day, a horn would blow at the back entrance to the house which was in a narrow alley-way on the east side of the house that connected through to Navy Gardens. "Granny, the Alleyne Arthur van is here!" I loved to watch the delivery of groceries - something I had never seen before in Trinidad. You see, my grandparents did not own a car, so that was also a huge difference. I loved to take the Route 15 bus sometimes, what a thrill that was for a little Trini girl that had never been in a bus before. Sometimes I would catch the open-sided bus and go to the Museum by the Garrison, all by myself. The bus fare was 15 cents. In Trinidad, Daddy drove a sleek iridescent green Chevy in which he took us everywhere. My grandparents at their home with Helen St. Hill, their eldest granddaughter, 1954. Scott had just brought the evening cocktails to them in the verandah at "Norgate". On the back of the photo is a Christmas message to my parents in Trinidad, written by my grandfather. On grocery delivery day, the door set in the outside wall at "Norgate" would be opened, and the Alleyne Arthur boy would bring the cardboard box with goods and set it on the red formica kitchen counter. Right next to it was the red metal kitchen scale with the brass tray and iron weights arranged in a stack, the smallest on top. There he would unpack each item, and Granny would tick it off against the bill and her list. I think sometimes she would even check the weights of, say the potatoes or sugar that came in brown paper bags! She would do the same for drugstore items, and had accounts with Knights Ltd. and Collins Ltd. in Bridgetown. I don’t recall ever seeing her write a cheque, so I guess payments were made in cash. She kept her housekeeping money in a large cigar box that had compartments. Pop used to enjoy an after-dinner cigar. Granny kept all the groceries under lock and key in the kitchen cupboards, and had a rather large bunch of keys to everything in the house that had a lock on it. Each morning, she would “put out” the ingredients for Scott to cook lunch, and lock the cupboards again. All of this was like watching a movie to me, having come from Trinidad where I went to HiLo with my mother, and often to the San Fernando markets to buy vegetables, fruit, a live chicken with its feet tied together, and big, live blue crabs for the Sunday callaloo! It also struck me that I didn’t see East Indians, Chinese, Syrians and other mixtures of those people that I had become accustomed to in Trinidad. There, the vendors would always give a little “lagniappe” when Mum bought produce. I can still smell the freshness of the chadon beni, hot red peppers and other seasonings in the San Fernando market. Mum would carry a big handmade basket for market shopping - the same one that went on picnics to Mayaro when we were children. 

 Me at Maracas Bay, Trinidad - about 1955 My family lived in Mon Repos, San Fernando at the time, so it was a big all-day Sunday outing when we drove to Maracas Bay. I remember my mother early in the morning cooking, then wrapping a big pot of pelau first in a few layers of newspaper to keep it warm, then tying the whole thing up in a big cloth like a ‘georgie bundle’. Food, drinks bathsuits and towels were packed in the trunk of the car. My dad would stop at a parlour along the way and buy some bananas, cold drinks and maybe some Crix to eat in the car. Oh, and Extra Strongs, he always liked those. The drive seemed sooooooo long and the excitement was great when we finally got a glimpse of the sea as we drove around the winding bends descending to the beach. We weren't allowed to go in the sea without our father right there with us. That cold bottle of Coca-Cola afterwards was a real treat! When we got back home it was already dark and we were tired, sunburned and sandy - no such thing as sunblock in those days. Memories of a simple family day . Sunday Lunch at home, 1954 - Hart Street, San Fernando, Trinidad. My parents Andrew, Betty and their children Stephen and Peter and Valerie. Another fascinating thing for me in Barbados were the hucksters that walked in the street outside selling their wares. The women who sold flying fish carried them in a wooden tray on their head, and the tray was covered with some kind of cloth to keep them clean, I suppose. Sometimes they would also be carrying a basket with fresh seasonings of thyme, marjoram, chives and hot peppers, and a small variety of vegetables. We would hear the cry “FLYING FEEEESH” - and the going price - “12 a bit” if they were plentiful. Granny would send me to run outside and stop the huckster, which I would do by clapping my hands and gesturing her that we wanted her to come to the house. She would come to the same back door, and Granny would send Scott out to buy the fish. She took an enamel bowl to place them in. Well, that was another whole new experience to watch! Unlike today when fish are bought ready to be cooked and Bajan green seasoning comes in a jar from the supermarket, these were flying fish fresh from the sea, complete with wings, scales guts and bones. Granny took great pride in preparing them herself and she had it down to a fine art. She set about scaling and boning each one with her special well-worn boning knife, and I was amazed at her dexterity as she transformed each fish into a perfectly filleted one. Not a single stray bone could dare hang around and worse yet, reach my grandfather’s plate! Next, she prepared the Bajan green seasoning from scratch, chop-chop-chopping fresh thyme, marjoram, onions and peppers on her board. The dipping in beaten eggs and home made breadcrumbs came next, then the moment in the frying pan when they became the sizzling golden brown delicacy that graced the meticulously set dinner table. She would always give me one to sample in the kitchen, piping hot, fresh out of the pan. I still think they were the best flying fish I’ve ever eaten. The "ground provisions man" came around every week in his donkey cart. We could hear the cart and donkey clanking along, and he would call out “Get ya sweet putaaatahs, eddas, yaaaams. . . “ My grandfather would open the front gate to Dayrells Road and allow him to drive his cart into the front yard. This was another thing I’d never experienced before, and had never been that close to a donkey in my life. He weighed everything on a scale that looked like the Scales of Justice on the back of his wooden cart, but smaller and rustier. He was a small, wizened fellow, and wore a felt cap and baggy clothes that were sort of khaki colored. He would hop down from the cart to sell and weigh everything, and he wore no shoes. I’ll never forget one day my grandfather said to him teasingly, “Tell me, are you a little old man or a little old woman?” He politely grinned, bowed his head and said “I'z a little ole man, please." Scott always came out to take part in the purchasing and to carry the good ‘ground provisions’ into the kitchen. That night there would be a big dish of hot mashed yam, with dollops of golden butter on it served with flying fish. Often there would be string beans and fried plantain on the side. Heaven! 
 In 1957 there was no television in Barbados yet. My grandparents had Rediffusion which broadcast daily soaps like "Portia Faces Life". My grandmother would sit in her rocking chair and listen. I loved the Saturday morning Children's Programme with Alfred Pragnell and Doris Provençal. When I was a little older I often sang on that programme. On weekends, I was allowed to walk alone through Navy Gardens, Marine Gardens to Hastings where my Lobo great-grandmother and great-aunts lived. Granny forbade me to wear shorts on the street, so I had to obey and wear a skirt. I would spend long hours on the beach and in the sea by the Ocean View hotel, sometimes with a friend. That independence and freedom at a young age was good. Nobody worried about safety back then. All I had to remember was Granny's heeding to keep to the side of the road and look up and down carefully before crossing. Granny made the best lemon-meringue pies and for special occasions she made a dessert called "Spanish Cream", also the best rum trifle. On ordinary nights, there would be red Jell-O with canned fruit set in it for dessert. I remember her making eats for the evenings she expected guests - they were little meat patties, egg sandwiches, rolled asparagus sandwiches, stuffed eggs, and prunes stuffed with peanut butter. A must were the cubes of yellow cheese with either a small cocktail onion or maraschino cherry on toothpicks stuck into a large grapefruit for serving. I don't know whether tins of peanuts were available then, but Granny would shell bags of peanuts and prepare her own delicious salted cocktail peanuts in the oven. 

 Granny St. Hill pampered and catered to her husband. When I lived with them to go to school, he was still working at Robert’s Manufacturing Co. as their Secretary/Accountant. He left early in the morning, and would be picked up and dropped by Maurice Foster who lived in nearby Rockley New Road and also worked at Roberts. Every morning, Granny would lay out his clothes on the bed. He wore white shirts with detachable collars, and those were kept in a circular tin that toffees or sweet biscuits had come in. The collars were starched stiff and sparkling white. The shirts didn’t have buttons, instead they were buttoned with little gold studs, which Granny would place in each button hole, just ready to be secured by him on the other side. She also placed his gold cuff links in the cuffs of the long sleeves. He always wore a gold fob pocket watch and suspenders. One of Scott’s duties was to clean his shoes. I also remember my grandmother making a large glass of eggnog topped with grated nutmeg, and had it ready for him when he came back home from work in the afternoon. I never remember seeing Pop do any washing up or housework - ever. He was a kite maker - he called himself a “kite-ologist” and Granny’s job was to cut and strip cloth into varying sizes for him to make the tapered tails for his kites. Pop loved plants and gardening and tending to that was his clearly established domain. They had a Cocker Spaniel dog named Freckles who had his own dog bed that looked like a miniature cradle, also painted cream like the bedroom furniture. During my time of staying with my Bajan grandparents I would fly back home by BWIA for school holidays. Mum and Dad were waiting for me at the old Piarco airport, and back home I would quickly have to adjust to not being the only child in the house! Looking back, I was very fortunate to have experienced childhood in the two very different Caribbean islands, and life with grandparents who were born in the 1890's. 
 Those were Colonial times and Barbados was decidedly more British in customs and culture than Trinidad was. The Ursuline Convent was run by nuns, many of whom were British. My early childhood upbringing taught me adaptability and gave me awareness of the importance of and respect for family, in particular for elders. Looking back, my solo visits to the Barbados Museum at 10 years old must have triggered my love for historical things, people and places. I would stare at the Penny-farthing and the huge mahogany four poster bed with the little steps. The story of the Tamarind Seed in the shape of a slave-man's head impressed me. Over the years my West Indian accent became a Trini-Baje one, and that's quite okay with me. These recollections show that children are like sponges, soaking in everything around them. Memories are subjective. These ramblings of mine are to recall a past era, one without television, smart phones or computers. To my grandchildren: I hope ValVal's memories amuse you! To be continued . . .
 May 2022

The merger of Cohen D'Azevedo and Lobo Families Through the centuries Lisbon to the Breestraat, Amsterdam The air along the Amstel River in the mid-1600s was a thick mixture of Atlantic salt, roasting tobacco, and the rich, sweet scent of raw Brazilian sugar drying in nearby warehouses. For those walking down the Jodenbreestraat - the Broad Street of the Jews - the soundscape was just as varied. Here, the sharp clatter of horse-drawn carts over cobblestones mingled with a distinct blend of languages: Dutch merchants shouting trades, artists arguing over the price of pigments, and a refined, rapid Portuguese spoken by families who had crossed an ocean to rebuild their lives. Such was the beating heart of Amsterdam’s Golden Age. For our family, this neighbourhood was truly a sanctuary. Just a few decades earlier, to be openly Jewish in Lisbon was a torture and death sentence. Under the terrifying shadow of the cruel Portuguese Inquisition, our ancestors had been forced to live double lives as Conversos - New Christians - who practiced their ancient faith in absolute secrecy behind shuttered windows. But Amsterdam offered something different: the freedom to step out of the shadows. It was here, in this vibrant, crowded neighborhood, that the paths of two of our ancestors from different Portuguese families converged. Down the block on the Jodenbreestraat stood a grand residence called Romijns Keizers Hooft (the Roman Emperors Head), the family home of Baruch (Bento) Osorio (1560-1644). It was situated near the lock-house (now Cafe de Sluyswacht). A titan of international trade who had fled Lisbon, Osorio was one of the wealthiest men on the artificial island of Vlooienburg, his vast fortunes in silver and spices securing him a place as a leading member of the new Jewish community. Only a short walk away on the very same street stood a house named St. Joris (St. George). This was the home of Isaac Cohen d’Azevedo (c. 1606–1674). I would say that Osorio’s generation helped lay the financial foundation for this safe haven, Cohen d’Azevedo’s generation built its cultural and spiritual soul, weaving the Sephardic community tightly into the fabric of the Dutch Republic. Their names are etched into the foundation plaque of the Portuguese Synagogue in Amsterdam. Their immediate neighbour, living just doors away at number 4 Jodenbreestraat, was a young, ambitious painter named Rembrandt van Rijn. As Rembrandt walked the Jodenbreestraat, searching the faces of his neighbours for the biblical expressions he loved to capture on canvas, he was looking directly at the community our forefathers were actively building. As a merchant living in Amsterdam, Isaac Cohen d’Azevedo traded with the towns of Salé and Tétouan in modern-day Morocco. He and his wife Abigael Curiel Rosado had three sons: David; Daniel (born in Amsterdam, died 1690 in Hamburg), who married his cousin Debora de Moses Cohen d’Azevedo. Their third son Joseph (born in Amsterdam, died 1705 in London), was a director of the Scottish East India Company. This is my story of how the descendants of Baruch Osorio and Isaac Cohen d’Azevedo from Lisbon converged in Amsterdam, and throughout the generations found their way to the Americas, to my homeland Barbados. MOSES COHEN D'AZEVEDO The lineage of Haham Moses Cohen d'Azevedo (c. 1726–1784) is documented on on page 51 of Malcolm H. Stern’s "First American Jewish Families: 600 Genealogies 1654–1988". • Role/Title: Haham of London
 • Life Details: Son of Daniel Cohen d'Azevedo. Born in Amsterdam (~1720); died in 1784. In 1761, succeeded his father-in-law, Moses Gomez da Mesquitta, as Haham of the Spanish and Portuguese congregation in London.
 • Publications & Legacy:
 ◦ Delivered two published sermons in Spanish (later translated to English in 1776 containing prayers for British military success), including "Order de la Oracion, en el Dia de Ayuno, 13 Dec., 1776..." on the accession of George III (delivered Dec. 1760).
 ◦ Descendants: A descendant passed away in Barrow's Buildings at age 90.
 ◦ Relics: His portrait remained his only surviving personal item. His son, Daniel, served as hazan of the congregation from 1779 to 1812.


Patrick Vernon Acland Gibbon husband of Sybil Elsie Sheppard Patrick and Sybil were married on 19 June, 1943 at St. Ann's Church of Scotland, Trinidad Patrick Gibbon was born on 27th October, 1915 in San Fernando, Trinidad. He was the middle child, one of three sons born to Linton Gibbon and his wife Ellen Mary Date, known to the family as Nellie. His older brother was Roddy and Dennis was their younger brother. The boys grew up in Five Rivers, Arouca, where their father was a farmer. They all went to school at Queen's Royal College in Port of Spain, and would commute back and forth each day in a horse-drawn cart. An Ellis Island Passenger List shows that his father Linton traveled to New York from Trinidad, arriving there on 20 April 1919. It states that he was a thirty-year old planter, of Irish stock. In later years Linton, Patrick and Roddy purchased the Springvale Estate. There Linton grew cocoa and had a small cocoa factory. He also grew pineapples and made pineapple jam. Sybil Elsie Sheppard was born a century ago, on 12 September 1921 to be exact. She was the ninth of thirteen children born to Charlie and Elsie (Gomez) Sheppard. Her 100th Birthday was celebrated with a special service at St. Ann's Church of Scotland, Trinidad, attended by close family members and live-streamed to family around the world. Seventy-eight years earlier, the beautiful Sybil became the wife of her sweetheart, Patrick Gibbon, at a ceremony conducted by the late Rev. Adamson at this same sacred venue where she had also worshiped and participated in social events all her life. Patrick first caught sight of the lovely nineteen-year old Sybil at a Carnival fête in 1940. She recalled many decades later while chatting on the beach in Barbados that this handsome young man came over to her and the first thing he said was “Beautiful eyes!” She remembered the excitement she felt when he invited her to go with him to Manzanilla, where all of his family would be spending the weekend. Giggling, she recalled that she fell for him right away, and confided in her big sister Madge that she had met this fellow and about his invitation, and did she think that Mama would allow her to go. In those days, you had to get permission and approval! It so happened that Sybil’s brother Bertie worked at Huggins & Co. Ltd., the same place as Patrick had been working since he was a young boy - so with big brother’s nod that he was a good fellow, permission was granted and off Sybil went. It was to be the adventure of a lifetime for her, as from there on, the couple dated steadily for three years before they tied the knot. A newspaper article appeared in the Trinidad Guardian of June 19, 1993 on the occasion of their Golden Wedding Anniversary. It describes the wedding in lovely detail. The newlyweds spent their honeymoon in Barbados - one week at The Crane Hotel, and another at Cacrabank Hotel in Worthing. They returned to Trinidad and started off married life in Arouca, where their first child was born. Soon after that they found just the place where they wanted to make their home, and purchased a house on a large plot of land surrounded by nature. It was there at their St. Augustine home that they lived their entire married life and raised their family of four children - former Trinidad & Tobago cycling champion Roger, Jennifer MacLean who lives in Australia, David who died by accident in 1963 when he was 15 and Don, a civil engineer. Dave's death was an unspeakable tragedy for the family, a sorrow that Sybil and Patrick bore bravely, supported by their deep faith and love for each other. Together they tended their home and cultivated the beautiful gardens and orchard that all of their relatives and friends remember so fondly. Their St. Augustine home was a welcoming one and for us as children, visits to the Gibbons meant roaming the grounds, climbing the orange trees and eating freely whatever fruit was in season. I remember Uncle Patrick as kind and funny, a most down-to-earth and unpretentious man. His qualities and character, as well as the loyalty and love Patrick and Sybil shared, were eloquently described by his eldest son in the eulogy which follows. The short video clips here capture moments of the couple's family life and hospitality. We recall with love and appreciation this genuine salt-of the earth man who was a part of our Sheppard clan for over half a century. The video at the foot of this page is a time capsule of an era that has passed, one that shows Patrick Gibbon in his element. Patrick passed away on 8 September 2000. His beautiful June Bride continues to sparkle at age 100 and still attributes her youthful appearance and longevity to her "good husband." "What is your secret?" - September 2017, age 96 Family gatherings at the Gibbons Sending congratulations to Sybil's sister Audrey and her husband Don in California for their 50th Anniversary Eulogy delivered by Patrick's eldest son, Roger Patrick Gibbon on 11 September, 2000 Eighty five years ago a baby boy was born to very humble parents. Linton (a farmer) and Nellie raised their three sons in a healthy environment. They also moulded them to go forward with the highest of moral standards. Patrick or Pat, or PVA (but to us Daddy and Grandpa) was truly an exceptional person. He was our friend. He was everyone’s friend. He lived a simple life and taught by example. His boyhood was eventful and he did all the things that country boys did in those days - including mischief. He had a great calling to the outdoors and from very young he developed an addiction to the forest and to his main hobby of hunting. But he was more than just a hunter. He was a husband, a father, a grandfather and a great grandfather. He was a storyteller who told few lies. (Of course, we all know that hunters don’t lie!) He was everything else that a good man can be. His love and caring for his family was exemplary. Two main days on his calendar were Christmas day and the 1st of November (the opening of the duck hunting season). He loved Christmas with family and all the traditions. We will forever value the many vacations that we enjoyed as a family unit in Mayaro. Daddy was a very careful person who planned his life in great detail. He took no risk for fear of losing the little that he had. He was loyal to the highest. He worked with the same company for almost fifty years. At age 15 when he received his first salary, he went to Sir George Huggins to say that something was wrong as he had worked for only half a month but got $10.00 and felt it should have been $5.00. Sir George told him "Son, for your honesty you could keep it". This honesty he carried for the rest of his life The Gibbon family home in Circular Road, St. Augustine He lived in his little home of great warmth for 55 years, and he cared for his superb wife for all of 57 years. He was such a devoted husband, a loving father, a caring grandfather and a proud great grandfather. He was a sincere friend to all - you could count on daddy in times of need - regardless of the circumstances. His life was filled with happiness, love and kindness, but he also had his tragic times. As rugged as he may have looked, inside he was such a soft and sentimental person. During his final days, he was so concerned about what would happen to his "mummy" when he was gone - and even though we tried to convince him that mummy will be cared for just as she cared for us all, it remained foremost in his mind. We think though that he became comforted by the extent of kindness that was showered upon him by his family, Mummy's family and some of his sincere friends, and he knew that this same support will be given freely on to his beloved wife, who devoted her life fully to caring for him in his final years. He was so fortunate to have had mummy with him full time. Such is the love of this great man that the last uttering from his weak and dying lips was "I love you". Daddy, we are so saddened by your passing on, but we shouldn't be - for we know and believe that you are reunited with your parents, your brothers and your son, and that you will be there to greet us all some day. May God be with you. It was not hard to love this beautiful man - so many wonderful memories will remain with us forever. He showed us so many examples of what it was to be honourable, trustworthy, just and fair. He was humorous and could be serious, he was generous yet careful, and he had such a great capacity to love. Most important, he was a man of great faith and he loved the Lord. ~ The loving sentiments of Patrick's only daughter, Jennifer Gibbon MacLean, also expressed at his Service of Thanksgiving. Painting of the Gibbon home courtesy Jennifer Gibbon MacLean Artist: Joanna Aldred - Sybil's niece (Click on the image to enlarge) Story compiled by Valerie on 11 November, 2021, with thanks to Auntie Sybil for sharing her memories and memorabilia My cousin Jennifer for contributing photos and information My husband Meindert for videos

Jessie Mabel Sheppard 1909 - 2002 Jessie (Sheppard) Brash in 1947 when she was 38 years old Early Background & Childhood Charles Sebastian Theodore Sheppard and his sweetheart Elsie Mabel Gomez got married on the 20th of January 1909 at the Presbyterian Church of St. Ann's, and settled down to married life in Port of Spain, Trinidad. It wasn't long before 23 year old Elsie was expecting their first child. Their daughter, Jessie Mabel, arrived on Monday 22 November that year. Jessie's grandparents were English and Portuguese. Her Sheppard grandfather was Alfred, a Sergeant Major with the Trinidad Police Force born in Sussex, England, and her grandma was Virginia de Freitas , Trinidad-born daughter of Madeiran immigrants. Her Gomez grandparents on her mother's side were also all from Portuguese families who had settled in Trinidad. Jessie's father Charlie played the mandolin and violin, and Elsie also played the piano. As in many middle-class homes of those times, a piano took pride of place in the Sheppard drawing room - one could say it was the centerpiece of the home where family and friends socialized and many musical evenings took place. About home life, Elsie wrote in her short memoirs "Music pervaded the air, father and children being the musicians." Little Jessie Sheppard sat at the piano from an early age, and began to play before her little feet could even touch the pedals. Encouraging young Jessie's love for the piano, Charlie and Elsie arranged for their daughter to have music lessons with Herr Christian Wilhelm Nothnagel, a German musician and teacher who had settled in Trinidad and set up his school of music at 18 Gray Street, Port of Spain in 1899. His fees were $5 for 8 half-hour lessons and Jessie was tutored by him twice weekly. Jessie was privileged to have been given this opportunity, as Herr Nothnagel was no ordinary piano teacher. He had come from a family of notable musicians and had studied at Segeberg Seminary in Schleswig-Holstein, Germany. He was qualified to teach with special emphasis in music, choral training and conducting and studies in the organ, piano, violin and cello. At his music school, called The St. Clair School of Music, he taught Piano, Organ, Violin, Cello, Singing, and Theory of music. He held students’ evenings for playing before small audiences monthly and prepared students for Trinity College of music or London exams. Undoubtedly, Jessie's early exposure to this classical musical environment led her to be the accomplished pianist she became. As time went by, she realized that her real talent was playing music by ear, and this she humbly considered as a gift. An interesting family connection is that well-known Trinidadian soprano and vocal coach, Wendy Sheppard, is the great-granddaughter of Herr Nothnagel. She is also the great-grandaughter of Jessie's father, Charles Sheppard. Aunt Jessie would fondly recall that when she was a little girl, she would take the train to Sangre Grande, where she loved to spend school holidays with Grandma Christina Gomez. The manager of the local cinema there would often ask her grandmother's permission for her to provide the live piano music for silent movies when the resident pianist was off. This she did when she was just eight years old. Jessie attended Bishop Anstey High School where, as a twelve year old, she would play marches on the piano for the students to march to their classroom. This would be the pattern of her long life - generously giving of her musical talent at countless venues and charity events, with joy and love. Some of these are recounted in a couple of newspaper interviews with her, and in an appreciation published after her death. By age nineteen, Jessie had become the eldest of a family of thirteen children, with seven younger brothers and five sisters to help look after. Then tragedy hit the large Sheppard family. Their father Charles died in 1931 at only 45, leaving them and their young widowed mother to grieve and cope with his sudden death. Fortunately, after graduating from high school, Jessie had obtained a steady job at the Post Office. Her mother Elsie wrote in her memoirs "this was of great help, as she could buy for herself such fineries as were needed and put by something for the "Bottom Drawer". It was at her workplace that she met Bernard, the dashing young man she fell in love with. Bernard would bring mail to the Post Office from the company for which he worked, and what started off as an "office romance" blossomed into courtship and marriage. The eldest Sheppard sisters, l/r Ida, Jessie, Madge at their Richmond Street home, Trinidad (photo colourized from original black & white) Bernard Henry McNee (Man) Brash Husband of Jessie Mabel Sheppard 1910 - 1970 The "Man" Jessie Married How, when or why Bernard Brash acquired the nickname "Man" is anybody's guess. But the amusing story has been told that it started when he was a pretty cocky little boy and his mother's old lady friends used to call him "little man". The moniker stuck with him and he became known as "Man" for life. Bernard Henry McNee (Man) Brash came from a most interesting family. Like his four siblings - Bianca, Francis (Frank), Victoria (Vicky) and Louisita (Toots) - he was born at Tucker Valley, Macqueripe, in the north of Trinidad where their father, Harris Brash, was the Manager of Sir William Ingram's large estate. Man's mother was Trinidad-born Corina Hart, daughter of Daniel Hart and Louisita de la Croix de Martini who was of Italian parentage. Man's paternal grandparents were a Scottish couple - Francis Banks Brash and Jean (Jane) Graham McNee - who had emigrated to Trinidad shortly after their marriage in Glasgow in 1867. Man's mother Corina had been sent away to school at a Catholic convent in America where her aunt, Emmanuel de Martini was a nun (Sr. Mercedes). Corina also had an uncle who was a Catholic priest in Arima, Monsignor C.B. de Martini. Harris and Corina Brash raised their children in the Catholic faith, and lived in the rural Tucker valley estate. Harris Brash later managed San Carlos estate, about 9 miles north of the town of Arima, in the Heights of Guanapo, Northern Range. Man's early education was by a Governess called Miss le Cadre, who lived with the family in their Tucker Valley home. He later went to St Joseph's Convent Arima from Heights of Guanapo, along with his sisters "Toots" and Vicky. When he got his first job in Port of Spain, he boarded with Addie Devenish, a lady whom Man loved and always referred to as his second mother. Roaming the estates among crops of cocoa, bananas, coconuts, coffee and citrus must have been an idyllic and carefree childhood for Man and his siblings, though I'm sure they each had their share of chores around the homestead. They grew up joining in with the estate workers "dancing the cocoa". It is therefore unsurprising that in later years, he formed his own company, B.H. Brash & Co. Ltd., curing cocoa and coffee beans for export. His grandaughter Isabel Brash carries on the family love for cocoa beans in her Trinidad artisan chocolate business called Cocobel Chocolate. Harris Brash and Corina Hart in 1904 Bernard (Man) Brash's parents The Sheppard Family in 1828 Nineteen-year old Jessie is seated next to her mother, holding her sister Florence With the blessing of her widowed mother and much to the excitement of her younger siblings, Jessie and Bernard Henry McNee (Man) Brash were married on 29 August, 1936. In her memoirs, Jessie's mother Elsie wrote "he was a fine young man and she a happy bride". Though the Sheppards were staunch Presbyterians, they were married at the Sacred Heart Catholic Church on Richmond Street, Port of Spain, a stone's throw away from the Sheppard family home. Jessie vowed to raise their children in the Catholic faith, as was required by the Church. She faithfully kept her promise. Jessie & Man's Family One year after Jessie and Man were married, they welcomed the first of their four children into the world, on 17 August 1937. They named their firtborn Bernard Harris Michael Brash - Bernard after his father, Harris after his Brash grandfather. Bernard married Ruth Ann Ganteaume and they had three children - Elizabeth, Rosanna and Bernard. He passed away in 2017 when he was 80 years old, having had an impressive career as Commander of the Trinidad & Tobago Coast Guard. On 29 October 1939, along came the child that Jessie would affectionately call her "gold bead". Charles Anthony Brash was named after his grandfather Charles (Charlie) Sheppard. Charles joined the oil industry in Trinidad, becoming one of the country's leaders of the oilfield services sector. He is the Chairman and Founder of Well Services Petroleum Company Ltd. and has recently been honoured as a Trinidadian Hero for his his outstanding contribution to oil production over the past sixty years. Charles and his wife Rosalind Thavenot, are the proud parents of six children - Charles (known by his second name Anthony), David, Charlene, Rachel, Daniel and Isabel. Maurice Brash, Jessie and Man's third son, became a well-known actor, singer, radio personality, and a highly sought after voice-over artist for many advertisements. He has performed in numerous television shows and soap operas, stage plays and presentations. Born in Woodbrook on June 10, 1947, Maurice was educated at Fatima College where he went on to teach French after studying Languages at the University of the West Indies. On his return from a scholarship to France in 1975, Maurice led the St. Dominic Savio Choir to become most outstanding Secondary School Choir. In 1989, the French Government awarded him the “Palmes Academiques” for his contribution to the teaching of French language and culture. In 2015 Maurice was inducted into the Fatima Hall of Achievement for his outstanding contribution to his Alma Mater. After three boys, Jessie must have been thrilled when, at 42 years old, she delivered their last child - a girl! Rosalind Elsie Theresa Brash, born on 5 April 1951, was the beautiful blonde baby of the family and was given the name Elsie after Jessie's mother. Her growing up years were filled with piano and vocal training. She has performed in several concerts, sometimes singing duets with Maurice. As small children, she and Maurice even sang duets on the Sunday afternoon "Auntie Kay Show" - a Radio Trinidad programme showcasing children's talent - before the days of television in Trinidad. Rosalind is an accomplished soprano, having won many awards at the annual music festivals. She has sung at countless weddings in Trinidad and Houston, where she lived for a while with her husband, David Voisin. Rosalind and David have one son, Daniel. Jessie saw to it that all her children were sent to piano lessons at an early age. As very young children, she would seat them on her upright piano where she accompanied them during her numerous tea parties and social functions, many held for charity. At Christmas time she would have them perform for the sick at hospitals, as well as for the Princess Elizabeth Home for Children. Maurice recalls: "Her home at 23 O'Connor and then at 38 O'Connor Streets welcomed so many members of our family on both sides. At 23 O'Connor people we had never met would come into our drawing room and play the piano, because the neighbours said Mrs. Brash wouldn't mind. That was when you never locked the house. Our homes were always full of music and singing." I have warm and happy memories of my Aunt Jessie playing the piano at Grandma Sheppard's legendary Christmas Parties where all of her grandchildren would be asked to perform. Auntie Jessie brought the family together around her piano at countless family gatherings. She also was an accomplished organist, and provided music at church for weddings of many family members. Sadly, Jessie's husband Man passed away on 20th February 1970 at age 59. After his death when she was 60 years old she decided to start teaching and took over a small primary school called St. Anthony’s Private School. Three years later, she ran her school from her Woodbrook home, on 38 O'Connor Street. Her closest sister Ida, by then also a widow, moved in to live with her and together they nurtured and taught young children, always including music in their daily curriculum. Jessie's contribution to music and culture in Trinidad has been invaluable. The newspaper articles which I've transcribed below give testimony to her life of music and the high esteem in which she was held. It's heartwarming to know that The Jessie Brash Memorial Trophy is presented each year to outstanding musicians at Trinidad & Tobago Music Festival. Jessie passed away on 23 April 2002 in her ninety-third year, leaving behind a large family of whom she and her husband Man would be very proud today. Her rich legacy of music and kindness will live on forever in the hearts of all her family and everyone who knew and loved her. 1985 - Valerie singing at a family party in Barbados accompanied by Jessie, Standing behind us are her sisters Flo and Ida Newspaper Articles Sunday Express, February 28, 1993

 In 1918 she provided piano music for silent movies. She was only eight then. She remembers feeling sad during a movie she played for “The Transgressors” about a father who neglected his daughter. How could one forget some of the “beautiful” actors - Ramon Navarro and Mary Pickford? 

“I played for silent films when I went to spend holidays with my grandmother” said Jessie Brash, 83, of her grandmother Christina Gomez from Sangre Grande. There was a resident pianist, but I just filled in for fun. I did it about a dozen times.” The name of the Sangre Grande cinema eluded her, but not all of the memories were a blur. She recalled the “cocoa people” would pay monthly for a cinema box which was available to any family member. The cinema manager, one Mr. Watson, usually asked Jessie’s grandmother for permission for her to play. for the movies. During sad scenes, she played such tunes as Hearts and Flowers or I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles.

 “The piano was below the screen so I had to look up at the screen while playing and change the music as was necessary. Silent movies were very nice. They had lovely actors and very handsome men,” said Brash, mother of Maurice Brash, opera singer, actor, teacher and Prime 106 news announcer.

 She didn’t play for silent movies at the London Theatre, now Astor, in Port of Spain, but Brash remembers that it cost a shilling to go to balcony, six pennies for house and three pennies for pit. Ever so often, management had an “egg night”. Patrons who showed up with an egg got in free. Egg night, as you can imagine, was special.

 As Bishop Anstey High School students, Brash and a friend, Lynette Brown, took turns at the piano playing marches and show numbers from the English musicals Showboat and The Girlfriend for their fellow students to march into their classrooms. They were about 12.

 As a child, Brash received some basic training from a German music teacher living in Gray Street, St. Clair, who she remembers as Nothnagel. Twice weekly she was tutored in the classics. However, she thinks her talent lies in playing music by ear. She considers it a gift. It must have been a trait she inherited from her father, Charles Sheppard, whose instruments were the violin and mandolin. Her father was a partner in Salvatori, Scott and Co. Ltd., a general dry goods store that was located where the Salvatori building now stands on Independence Square, Port of Spain. “We used to have some beautiful music evenings” said Brash of her upbringing.

 From the cinema to the school, Brash then took her talent to the Music Festival. She formed the Brash Quartet with violinist Elsie Pereira and cellist Beatrice Tibbets. They won at least a dozen certificates with their renditions of chamber music.

 During World War II, Brash, comedian Lundy de Montbrun, Boscoe and Sheila Holder, and blind pianist Maurice Connor, entertained the American soldiers stationed in Trinidad. The Holders weren’t married then but Boscoe played piano and Sheila sang. Brash dressed her two sons, Bernard and Charles, like soldiers in khaki jacket and pants and took them to the weekly Sunday concerts which were organized to boost the Yankees’ morale.
The musical evenings that Brash enjoyed during childhood have not disappeared entirely. She sometimes teams up with Syl Dopson on clarinet, John Henderson on cuatro,vionists Carl Stodart and Elsie Pereira, bass cellist Philip Habib and Ken Kelshall on the mouth organ at the Diego Martin home of pianist Yvonne Burnett, to make music.

 This spontaneous orchestra plays such waltzes as Ramona, Charmaine and Desert Song. When the spirit becomes infectious, some of the musicians give in to the mood. They drop their instruments, put their arms around one another and do a tango, waltz, fox trot or the rhumba.
 These old-fashioned dances are a throw-back to the days when popular music had mellower melody and gentler rhythm. The times when people really danced. They moved around the room. Launched their heads back. Threw their feet in the air.
 The ballroom dances have been replaced by the soca bogle, the flex, the butterfly and the bubble. Style and grace in motion have given way to waves and gyrations.
Nowadays, said Brash, people listen to noise.
 And couples, she notes, “rent-a-tile.”

 MELODIES FROM AN AGE OF GRACE 

 Newsday, Sunday May 5, 2002 

 We observe the passing of another outstanding woman, Jessie Brash, on Wednesday April 24. The funeral service took place on April 25 at the St Theresa’s Roman Catholic Church in Woodbrook where Jessie had been the organist for 30 years, never accepting any payment for a talent she felt she owed to her God.

 Born Jessie Mabel Sheppard on November 22, 1909, the first of Charles and Elsie Sheppard’s 12 children, she married Bernard “Man" Brash in 1936, a union which produced four children, Bernard, Charles, Maurice and Rosalind, 11 grandchildren and 12 great grandchildren.

 When her husband died in 1970, leaving no estate, Jessie acquired a small school from Marion De Montbrun at the corner of Roberts and Alfredo Streets in Woodbrook, and determinedly turned St. Anthony’s Private School into a haven for young children on whom she lavished love while giving them an adventure into learning, singing and an awareness of God.

 But it was Jessie’s passion for music which was overriding. With her father she shared a love for music before her feet could barely reach the pedals.
 He even had her play the piano for a silent movie in a neighborhood cinema when his friend, the cinema owner, found himself minus a pianist one evening.

 My memory of this upright woman was seated at the piano accompanying the dancers of Thora Dumnbell’s dance school with heart and soul. And this she did for more than 30 years.

 Those were Jessie’s happiest years and we are told “Thora’s friendship was very dear to her, as was her friendship with Elsie Pereira and Beatrice Tibbits with whom she spent many years playing beautiful music, winning Music Festival awards and driving her late husband who had no ear for music, round the bend.”

 In 1973, the indomitable woman purchased No. 38 O’Connor Street on the strength of her good name alone. A time when your good name was worth something. The house became a haven for many, from her children for whom she was a healing force, to her sister Ida and many whom she helped by holding charity events at the Woodbrook house. Her mother, Elsie, in a short appreciation of her children, once compared Jessie to a diamond. 

Jessie’s children and friends felt the comparison was only valid in the worth of the stone, but not as a cold, hard and showy jewel, for Jessie was the essence of warmth, gentleness and genuine, unpretentious beauty.
 Hazel Ward-Redman once described her as the prettiest lady she ever saw.

 But, said eulogist, Bernard Tappin, “her beauty lay in the gentlest of her voice and in the generosity she showed everyone, for none entered her home without being invited to share a meal, even when she didn’t know if there was anything in the kitchen to eat.”

 Jessie’s faith in God was so strong that nothing phased her and up to the day before she was admitted to the nursing home, where she died peacefully, answered the question “How you going?” with the words “I’m going but ah eh gone yet!”

 Jessie had begun a short semi-autobiography called “An office affair” which she eventually dictated to her close friend Ann Pouchet after diabetes had claimed her eyesight. 

Jessie smiled at the piano, smiled when telling the only joke she could remember about the king who was castrated, smiled when organizing some little concert for someone in need, and smiled when singing the “ole lady walk a mile and a half” calypso as she tried to negotiate the walker with the help of Josephine, Anne Marie and Angela. JESSIE’S GONE, CHURCH ORGAN SILENCED

 By Angela Pidduck Compiled by Valerie Sheppard - 27 September, 2022 With thanks for contributions from: Rosalind (Brash) Voisin - Jessie's daughter Joan (Sutherland) Leggett - Niece of Jessie's husband, Bernard "Man" Brash Research reference for Nothnagel: "The Germans in Trinidad" by Fr. Anthony de Verteuil Videos by Meindert van der Meulen - Valerie's husband Jessie's children Charles, Rosalind and Maurice surrounded by some of her grands and great-grands at a Sheppard Family gathering Trinidad, 11 September, 2022

GEORGE HAVELOCK SHEPPARD (1917 - 1961) George Havelock Sheppard was born in Port of Spain, Trinidad, on 16 December 1917 to Charles and Elsie Sheppard. His father Charles Sheppard worked at The Miller Stores in Port of Spain as an Accountant. Charlie, as he was known, was the son of an Englishman, Alfred Sheppard who was a Sergeant Major in the British Colonial Trinidad Police Force; his wife Virginia was the daughter of Madeiran immigrants. George’s mother Elsie came from Arima, where her father Joseph Gomez ran the Miller Stores there. The Gomez family were also of Portuguese descent. Elsie was a full-time mother and housewife, as George was the seventh of their twelve children. They were (in chronological order) Jessie (Brash), Madge (Gonsalves), Joseph (Boysie), Ida (de Sousa), Bertie, John, George, Robert, Sybil (Gibbon), Andrew, Audrey (Clark) and Florence (Johnson). My father Andrew was the youngest boy in the line-up and, thanks to his handwritten memoirs, we know that George was educated at Queens Royal College. He wrote: “Being the last of six sons, obtaining a place in the Government-run main secondary school was a problem for my brother Robert and I because we had four older brothers attending that college, Queen’s Royal College, and their regulations did not permit any more than four pupils from any one family. Consequently, Robert and I found ourselves at St. Mary’s College, otherwise known as C.I.C. (College of the Immaculate Conception)... " The Sheppard family lived at 30 Richmond Street , Port of Spain. This was located at the corner of Richmond and Park Streets on the site that is now the Honda Dealership. Sadly, Charles Sheppard’s health deteriorated and he died in 1931 at 45, leaving Elsie a young widow to raise twelve children. George was just a 13 year old schoolboy. In his memoirs, my father recalls that after their father’s untimely death, their mother took in boarders to supplement the family income. Because of the large quantities of bread the household consumed, she employed Mr. Harris, a Barbadian baker, to bake fresh bread every day for them. He would come to the house and start baking before dawn. His mother arranged for Mr. Harris to bake extra bread which she sold to friends of the family who lived in the neighbourhood. These had to be delivered to the customers before 7:00 a.m. “Ma had several bread bags made, some to hold one or two or more pan loaves. Each customer had a nail on the back or front porch to hold the stringed bread bag. The empty bag would be replaced by the full one. Each bag had the customer’s name. Problem – transportation. Andrew, Robert, George borrow Boysie’s, Bertie’s and John’s bicycles, surround the bicycles with bags of bread and make sure you return for the owners to get their bicycles to get to work. We “students” had to eat breakfast quickly and walk to school – and get there in time. Many times we failed as evidenced by the black and blues on our hands or backsides as administered by our school masters. But this was all part of life. We loved Mama and understood the situation.” George knew the meaning of responsibility and hard work from a very young age as, one by one, his older siblings found jobs and their earnings helped their mother raise their large family. It was against this background that George started his working career as a youngster. In 1940, New Zealander Lowell Yerex (1895 - 1968) founded British West Indian Airways in Trinidad & Tobago. BWIA became the country’s first national airline, and George became one of their faithful employees for most of his adult life. In 1942, when he was 25 years old, George married Elenora Juliet (Nora) Laing. The following year their first child was born. She was the eldest of 5 children born between 1943 and 1959 - Patricia (Pat), Marjorie, Stanley, Linda and Donna Mae. It is unclear exactly when George started his career as an engineer in aviation, but we believe that it was throughout his marriage and up until his untimely death in 1961 - a span of at least nineteen years. I have not yet found official records of George's experiences while working with BWIA but my cousin George Gonsalves recounts this memory from when he was fifteen: "In 1956 we flew from Barbados to Trinidad and the flight was supposed to make a stop in Grenada. It was evening and as we were making the approach to Grenada, the pilot announced that we would be going on to Piarco direct. As it got darker, we could see flames coming out of one of the engines. My mother became hysterical and my father calmed her down by saying, 'Sweetheart, it’s nothing to worry about, it happens all the time'. We landed at Piarco on a foam-flooded field with fire engines and such equipment accompanying us as we progressed on the field. After we landed we learnt that Uncle George had been frantically running around making things happen as he shouted, 'My sister and her family are on that plane!' The headline in the Guardian the next morning was, “Plane lands at Piarco on a wing and a prayer. " George came from a devoted Presbyterian family. His grandmother Sheppard's father was among the Madeiran founding members of St. Ann’s Church of Scotland, where the family all worshipped and participated in many social fundraising events. Charles and Elsie Sheppard were active members of the church's community during the time when the young Rev. Ernest Wilfred Havelock was the much-loved minister. In 1915, Reverend Havelock announced that he felt a call to serve in the Great War and left the ministry in Trinidad, intending to return when the war was over. However Lieut. Havelock, Royal Fusiliers B.W.I., died of wounds he suffered in active duty on 18 September 1916, at the age of 33 years, leaving a widow and one young son. The following year, George Sheppard was born, and his parents gave him the middle name Havelock after the good Reverend. His first name George was after his uncle Dr. George Gomez , his mother’s brother, who passed away in St. Kitts just three months after his father, Charles Sheppard. George was a warm and kind family man, he loved a good party and a good joke. He also had a love for boating and the sea. His older brother Bertie was a keen yachtsman and no doubt George enjoyed following his adventures. On Sunday, 22 October 1961 George was enjoying a day out at sea fishing with his his 15 year-old son, Stanley and his good friend Irving Cook. It was then that he suffered a fatal heart attack when he was only forty-three years old. It was a sad, shocking blow to his wife Nora and their children, as it was to our entire family and his many friends and colleagues. I remember distinctly exactly where I was at our home in Barbados when my father received an overseas call on the black telephone with the rotary dial. It was the first time in my life that I saw him break down and cry inconsolably. George’s youngest child was not yet two, his oldest eighteen years old. In years to come, George’s only son Stanley Michael Sheppard also joined BWIA where he worked as an engineer. Tragically, Stanley passed away at age 37, survived by his young wife Marilyn (de la Rosa) and their children Marina, George and Alan. Like all of his brothers, George was a Freemason, and an active member of the Prince of Wales Lodge in Alexandra Street, Port of Spain. I'm told that to his memory, a shield that bears his name hangs on the wall in that Masonic Temple. From family photos belonging to George's children, we see him on the tarmac in Iceland with aircraft, and outside the door of Capital Aviation, where we believe he received training. We also see George in London with his wife and young children. My favourites are those of Uncle George the way we fondly remember him - enjoying life with his family and friends under the coconut trees at the beach. In some of them I can almost hear him telling another good joke! Thanks to George's family for sharing some of these special photos that can be viewed here. In my father's memoirs dated 1988, writing about his mother Elsie he mused: "In 1961, her worst blow to date was George’s death. He was number seven – “all good children go to Heaven” . Written with love ~ Valerie Sheppard 19 August 2021 The Legacy of George Havelock Sheppard Published 2 July, 2026 Stanley Michael Sheppard (1946 - 1984) l/r Alan and George Sheppard Sons of Stanley Michael Sheppard Grandsons of George Havelock Sheppard Wealth Management • Retirement Planning • Insurance Services • Estate Management • Investment Management The Sheppard Group The Sheppard name has long been associated with hard work, dedication, and excellence. Stanley Sheppard and his father, George Sheppard, both fondly remembered, spent many years as highly respected aircraft engineers at BWIA, contributing to the safety and reliability of air travel in Trinidad and Tobago. While neither was involved in the family business that exists today, the values they lived by helped inspire the generations that followed. Approximately sixteen years ago, George Sheppard set out to build something of his own. Through vision, determination, and a strong work ethic, he founded what is now The Sheppard Group . Today, the Group serves more than 3,000 clients, manages over US$1.5 billion in assets across 14 currencies, 65 countries, and 60 exchanges, and comprises five financial entities offering a wide range of investment and wealth management services. In 2023, Sheppard Stockbrokers Ltd. became the newest member firm of the Trinidad and Tobago Stock Exchange. George, Chairman and CEO of the Sheppard Group, brings more than 25 years of experience in financial services. He holds a BSc in Economics from McGill University, an MBA from the Richard Ivey School of Business at the University of Western Ontario, and is a Chartered Financial Analyst (CFA) charterholder. Working alongside him is his brother, Alan Sheppard, President of Wealth Management, who also brings more than 25 years of financial experience gained in both the United Kingdom and the Caribbean. Together, they have built a business that reflects not only professional excellence but also the values of integrity, commitment, and service that have long been associated with the Sheppard family. As brothers, this dynamic duo of George and Alan have built this success through honouring the legacy of those who came before them. Their achievements are a source of pride for the entire family and a wonderful example of what can be accomplished through vision, perseverance, and hard work. We know that both Stanley and George Snr. left this earth too soon, but Marylin must be immensely proud of her three children and to see the Sheppard name carried forward with such distinction, purpose, and success. Stanley Sheppard and Marylin de la Rosa - 17 April, 1971 Below: Their children l/r Alan, Marina, George - 2026 Published 2 July, 2026 With thanks to My cousin Carol-Lyn (Johnson) Hart for compiling the story of The Sheppard Group , in collaboration with George and his team Marylin Sheppard for providing family photos

The Sheppard Residence No. 30 Richmond Street, Port of Spain, Trinidad Written on June 1988 by my father, Andrew Desmond Sheppard (transcribed from personal family memorabilia) As children, our father had often told us this hair-raising story. After he passed away, we discovered that he had also penned it from his personal memories, without the aid of any historical research. Trinidad newspaper archives recently discovered in 2022 reveal that at age 66 my father was recalling a chilling discovery that happened in 1937, when he was 15 years old. Sheppard Archive Charles and Elsie Sheppard (née) Gomez and their family, at their residence No. 30 Richmond Street, Port-of-Spain - 1928. Baby Arthur in his mother's lap passed away when he was four months old, and Charles Sheppard died three years after this photo was taken. My father Andrew is the boy seated on the carpet between two of his sisters. Our father bought this very large house in Port of Spain, Trinidad, as a home for his very large family of wife and twelve children. It was purchased from a Spanish family named Santelli. The architecture was Spanish in design and it contained twelve rooms, ten of which were bedrooms, six upstairs and four at ground level. It was a beautiful home with ample space for all of us and our cousins and friends. 

What we did not know was that our home occupied an area of Trinidad which was truly historic. The story unfolds.

 After our father died, many efforts were made for us to remain at 30 Richmond Street, but ultimately our mother yielded to the demands of commerce. She sold the house and land to an automobile distributor whose nearest competitor was immediately opposite. Business was encroaching and we removed to a smaller house in a residential area. Sad to say, our beautiful old home was demolished to make way for a large, ugly automobile garage and showroom.
 Sybil Elsie (Sheppard) Gibbon remembers when these two pictures were taken: "It was on a Sunday afternoon on the beautiful marble steps of 30 Richmond Street. I must have been about seven. Andrew was too small. Boysie, Bertie, John, George and Robert. The girls with the hats were Jessie, Madge and Ida. I was in the too small bunch!" While digging down to prepare the foundations for the new building the workmen stopped and stared in disbelief. There were several human skeletons lying in disarray and many were in grotesque and strange positions. I picked up a human skull and like most others, there was evidence of a blow or a gash. Some limbs and bones were separated from their skeletons. Mystery surrounded this ghastly discovery. Secrecy followed. Police were at a loss to identify who these people were. A total of seven skeletons were unearthed. The Government pathologist and other scientists, through chemical and other analyses, determined the ages of the skeletons, who all died at approximately the same time, when pirates roamed the Caribbean seas. The skeletons were all male and were of men ranging from 18 to 30 years of age. They all died violently. A Mr. Potter, a Trinidad historian, carefully pieced the components of this mystery together and arrived at the following conclusion.

 Where No. 30 Richmond Street was located was on land reclaimed from the sea in the Gulf of Paria and only 15 miles from Venezuela. Trinidad was the ideal place for Spanish and English pirates to confront each other also providing safe harbour and hideouts when required. At the water’s edge (at 30 Richmond Street) certain pirates formed a club and erected a building for their clubhouse. A place for celebration, debauchery and drunken sprees which generally ended in fights and sudden death. The resultant corpses were thrown outside the clubhouse and floated away with the falling tide. Until one night, a very large fish entered the narrow channel to partake of drunken corpses when it must have become stuck and could not get back to the open sea. The grampus of a fish died and blocked the exit of the deceased pirates from entering Davy Jones’ locker. The stench became unbearable and the surviving pirates deserted the place, which was abandoned. In the course of time, all skeletons were covered until they were discovered that morning in January 1938. Question: Why did the Spanish gentleman, Mr. Santelli, decide to build that beautiful Spanish-style house on that particular piece of land? (Incidentally, the skeleton of a large fish was uncovered at a spot which could have been the channel entrance). Could it be that there was buried treasure and that this area was pinpointed on a map which originated in Spain, whence Mr. Santelli came?

 Romantic Trinidad! Always the lure of pirates. As children playing under our house, we dug and found the odd bone and other oddments but we heard rumours even then of pirates’ treasure, but never paid serious attention thereto. Strangely, the human skeletons referred to were found in 12 to 18 inches of earth.

 Several other theories were given, including military skirmishes between English, French and Spanish soldiers, victims of the cholera plague, all of which were strong possibilities excepting for one fact. The times of death as shown by pathological tests through chemistry pointed to the time in Trinidad’s historic past when Spanish pirates frequented and fought in our waters and buried their stolen treasures on land. We have never heard if the new owners of 30 Richmond Street found anything else besides bones. This story was covered in a full page of the Trinidad Guardian newspaper of the day, and was the subject of a local calypso entitled “The Richmond Street Skeletons”. Click on the articles from the Trinidad Guardian newspaper of Friday December 31, 1937 to enlarge and read. Thanks to my cousin Carol-Lyn (Johnson) Hart for discovery of the newspaper articles. This calypso called "Seven Skeletons Found in the Yard" by Lord Executor is most likely the one to which my father refers, given the era in which it was written. See the lyrics below. Hideous discoveries and monstrous crime Always happen at the Christmas time Hideous discoveries and monstrous crime Always happen at the Christmas time For the old year murders and the tragedy For the New Year serious calamity What shocked Trinidad Those seven skeletons that the workmen found in that yard What marred the Christmas festivity Was a New Year double catastrophe When a man and a woman on the ground was found With bloodstains upon the ground The husband was arrested but they were too late For the poison he drunk sent him to the gate That shocked Trinidad Those seven skeletons that the workmen found in that yard In Saint James the population went wild When in the savannah they found a child The hair was auburn and complexion pink Which placed the watchman in a mood to think "How can a mother despise and scorn A little angel that she has born?" That was more sad Than the seven skeletons that the workmen found in that yard A lorry was speeding to Port of Spain When it knocked down the cyclist into the drain It was going as fast as the lightning flash When the cyclist received the lash The mother cried out in sorrows and pain I am not going to see my boy-child again That is more sad Than the seven skeletons that the workmen found in that yard While the workmen they were digging the ground The rotten skulls of human beings they found Feet together and head east and west Number five was a watchman among the rest Number six had the hands and the feet on the chest And number seven a mysterious guest That shocked Trinidad Those seven skeletons that the workmen found in that yard. More intriguing family history began when the Sheppard family lived at 30 Richmond Street, and the first Ford dealership was located across the street at 25 Richmond Street Click HERE to read the story "Friendships - Partnerships - Family Ties "Truth is stranger than fiction" ~ Mark Twain

The Lobo Prayer Book This sacred book was first owned by my ancestor Isaac de Moses Lobo (1807–1850), who brought his Sephardic heritage from Suriname to Barbados. Upon his death, it was entrusted to his ten-year-old son, Daniel Lobo (1840–1903). Daniel was my maternal 3rd great-grandfather. It has been handed down by his son, my great-grandfather Isaac Clement Lobo. It is a multilingual Sephardic Machzor (festival prayer book), written in Hebrew, Ladino and English. Because Barbados was a British colony with deep ties to the Spanish and Portuguese Jews of London, these books were almost always printed by the Heshaim (the publishing arm of Bevis Marks in London) or in Amsterdam. They would have a formal, European aesthetic that contrasted with their later "weathered" appearance after decades in the Caribbean heat and humidity. By the mid-19th century, the once-flourishing Jewish community in Barbados was rapidly declining due to migration to Philadelphia and London. Because of this, I consider that this book is a rare primary historical record and artifact of one of the families that maintained Jewish life on the island during that period. It is testimony to the Sephardic heritage of the Barbados community where Isaac Lobo and his family lived and prayed. This prayer book has remained a cherished heirloom of the Lobo family for over five generations. The Cover and Inside Front Cover The cover of this Sephardic prayer book is a fine example of 19th-century craftsmanship. It is finished in paper designed with a marbled pattern over stiff board. The organic, swirling design features a base of grey and black with intricate veins of cream, orange, and yellow. This “Stone” style was a hallmark of high-quality bookbinding during the 1800s. Centered on the front is a rectangular black leather label bearing the name " ISAAC LOBO " embossed in elegant, serifed gold-leaf lettering. The label is framed by a double-lineborder - a solid outer line and a delicate "dotted" or "beaded" inner line. The inside cover and the facing page show significant signs of age, and frequent use. The inner "pastedown" (the paper that usually covers the inside of the boards) is almost entirely missing or has deteriorated, exposing the raw, light-brown cardboard or wood pulp beneath. There is visible "red rot" or leather decay along the spine edge, and a large section of the decorative black covering has peeled away. The worm-eaten damage throughout the book is typical of such old books in tropical Barbados. I can only imagine it must have been a handsome, personalized prayer book in its day. The page facing the cover contains the Kinnot (elegies) for the morning of Tisha B'Av. The text is set in a classic Hebrew square script with vowel markings (niqqud) and cantillation marks, indicating it was meant to be chanted. The paper is heavily foxed (brown spotting) and "thumbed" at the bottom right corner, suggesting this was a well-loved volume frequently held during long hours of prayer. The following photos show a few examples of its pages. Page 138 The content is “A Lamentation for Tisha B'Av”. This book is a fascinating linguistic artifact because it provides the service in three languages simultaneously. English: The text on page 138 is a "Portion from the Prophets for the Morning." It is a translation and commentary on Jeremiah 9:12–16, which is traditionally read on Tisha B'Av (the 9th of Av), a solemn day of mourning for the destruction of the Temples in Jerusalem. Hebrew (Right Page): The original sacred text used for the actual chanting and prayer. Spanish/Ladino: Beneath the Hebrew, there is a translation in archaic Spanish. The use of the abbreviation ".A." to represent the Name of God (Adonai) is a hallmark of Sephardic liturgical tradition, particularly among the Spanish and Portuguese Jews of the Western Diaspora (such as those in Barbados, London, and Amsterdam). The typography and "m m 2" signature at the bottom suggest this was printed in the early-to-mid 19th century, likely in London or Amsterdam, which were the primary hubs for supplying prayer books to the Caribbean. Page 141 These pages are for the morning service of the Ninth of Ab (in Hebrew, Tisha B'Av) . The service is uniquely solemn, featuring readings from the Book of Job and Lamentations to reflect themes of suffering and loss. The Hebrew text on the right includes the blessing for the Haftarah (prophetic reading). The English text on the left is a faithful translation of these prayers, including a plea for compassion upon and the restoration of the "House of David". Below the initial prayers, the text transitions into the Book of Job (Sefer Iyov). This is traditionally read on Tisha B'Av because its themes of suffering and loss align with the solemn nature of the day. Page 166 These pages are dedicated to the Afternoon Service for the Ninth Day of Ab (Tisha B'Av). The left page written in English includes directions for the service, stating: "Then put on the Taleeth and Tephillin, and say the usual Blessings...". The main text is a translation of Hosea 14:2–10. The Hebrew page on the right contains the corresponding original text for the same service. The Precious Handwritten Note Tucked within the pages of the prayer book is a small scrap of paper bearing a note handwritten in a blend of English, Hebrew and Ladino. To me it is a poignant gem because it bridges the gap between the formal liturgy of the Sephardic rite and the personal, lived experience of a community that was, at that time, facing a slow decline. Remarkably, the note has escaped the ravages of time within the weathered pages of Isaac Lobo's prayer book. My research shows that it must have been penned by my great-great-grandfather Daniel Lobo, who used the prayer book to worship at the Nidhe Israel Synagogue. I believe that this little note is testimony of his devotion and participation in worship at the Synagogue. It records an important, rare alignment of holy days on the Jewish calendar. This specific alignment happens only a few times a century. My understanding is that when these three events coincide, the synagogue service becomes more complex. As a congregant, or perhaps a prayer leader, Daniel’s note likely served as a guide and perhaps a bookmark. The key clue to researching the significance of this note was the date written in English: April 6. On Saturday, April 6, 1867 - just three years before he would leave the congregation - Daniel recorded the convergence of the Weekly Sabbath, the New Moon of Nissan, and Shabbat HaChodesh that occurred on that day: Santa dia del Sabat (Ladino) - 
The Holy Day of the Sabbath Rosh Hodesh Nissan (Hebrew) -
 the first day of the month of Nissan, (first month of the biblical year.) Yom Shabat Hodesh (Hebrew/Ladino) - 
The Sabbath of the Month: A special Shabbat (Shabbat HaChodesh) signaling the final preparation for Passover. Written in the Ladino of his ancestors and the Hebrew of his faith, the note about April 6 is a final snapshot of Daniel's life within the Sephardic community, as well as the deep connection to his Jewish roots. When Daniel was 30 years old, he chose as his wife a Christian woman named Frances Elizabeth Anne Stoute, thus forsaking his Jewish faith and social standing within the Sephardic community. A small, whimsical memento that Daniel must surely have treasured was also found tucked between the pages of this old and weathered prayer book. The fancy shoe motif on the paper-crafted souvenir was a popular Victorian symbol for "good luck" or "a prosperous journey." Photographs are provided by the kind courtesy of my cousin, Deborah (Jackson) Lauda, the current steward of this family heirloom. Valerie Sheppard - 26 March 2026 See also: LOBO & D'AZEVEDO FAMILIES MOSES FINZI LOBO

Welcome to my site "We must remember... and we must remember everything." Gérard Besson - Trinidadian writer, historian, publisher Years ago I embarked on a journey of research and discovery in writing the stories of my family through the use of oral tradition and genealogical research. I consider myself a family historian, though I am not a professional genealogist nor am I an academic. I provide photographs to accompany the stories, helping to bring the humanity of our ancestors alive as I attempt to document their lives. My goal is to create a legacy for future generations, recognizing the importance of knowing the people we come from, and understanding their struggles and achievements in the context of their era. The menu above will lead you to seventy-seven lovingly compiled pages of family stories, photos and videos. These pages are a collection of personal essays, written by myself. I also share essays penned by my father - first-hand stories written from his memories and perspectives of another generation and era. Each section contains the title story plus several others in the drop-down menu under the title. Just toggle and click. You may also use the Search tab to easily find the people or story of interest to you. My site is a living document, constantly updated as I continue to learn more about our ancestors and their descendants. Read More THE ENGLISH SHEPPARDS INTRODUCTION This is a tale of a two brothers who came from the large family of James and Elizabeth Shepherd in Sussex, England. Their family story has been pieced together by researching many official records, and with the help of photos and personal records in a family Bible. The lives of these brothers took completely different directions, and left many descendants who would become scattered far and wide. We have followed the family in censuses which were done every ten years. Interestingly, the earlier records show the family surname as Shepherd, but as we know for sure, the brothers Alfred and Charles wrote their name Sheppard. My great-great grandfather James Shepherd (Sheppard), born abt. 1823 in Chichester, Sussex, England The handwritten identification on the back of James' photo provided a vital clue in tracing the English Sheppard family line JAMES AND ELIZABETH SHEPHERD (SHEPPARD) Our story starts in 1851, during the reign of Queen Victoria, when a Census of England, Scotland and Wales was taken. James and Elizabeth Ann Shepherd née Cole were a young married couple, living with their family at St Pancras Street, in the parish of Saint Pancras, Chichester, Susex, England. James, born in Chichester and the head of the household, was 28 years old, and his occupation was listed as Gardener. Elizabeth, 25 years old, was also born in Chichester. They were already the parents of four children: Walter (6), Harriette (5), James (3) and one-year old William. In 1861, the Census records that the family had moved to St. Martins Court, St. Martin, Chichester, in the county of Sussex, England. Ten years had passed, and four more children had been born. They were Charles (7), Alfred (5), Edward (3) and the baby Harry (1). At the time of the Census, James and Elizabeth were 38 and 36 respectively, and lived at this address with their family of 8 children. By now, the oldest child, Walter, was 15 years old, and his occupation was "Best Of Shoe Paster Apprentice". What exactly that was, one can only guess. Harriett, now 14, was the only girl of the eight children. James, at only 12 years old, was also a Best of Shoe Apprentice. All of the children after James, with the exception of one year old Harry, were 'scholars' - what we would call 'students' nowadays. During this period, James Shepherd’s occupation as recorded in the Census was Gardener/Journeyman. The word journeyman comes from the French word journée, which means a period of one day. Essentially, that meant that he had finished his learning period or apprenticeship (most youngsters were apprenticed in those days to learn a trade) and had gone onto the stage of being relatively independent. He could travel around and offer his services for a daily rate; but he had not yet reached the stage of master or head gardener. Ten years later, in the 1871 Census, we discover that James Shepherd and his family were back at their original address – St. Pancras Street, Chichester. At the time of the census, James was 47 years old, and Elizabeth 44. Their family had grown even larger with the addition of two more children. There were two more boys - Ernest who was then 9 years old, and a new baby called Stephen - just 8 months old. Those were the only two children living at home with them. Although their older brothers Charles and Alfred were just 16 and 14, they were not listed in the household; however, so far, we are unable to find them listed at any other residence. Elizabeth Shepherd’s occupation is never mentioned, but it is clear that she was a housewife all her adult life. She would have had her first child when she was 21, and her last child when she was 46 - occupation enough! By 1881 we find the Shepherd family living at 6, Guilden Road, Oving, Sussex. James Shepherd, the gardener, was now 58 years old and his wife 55. The only child living with them was their youngest son Stephen, 10 years old - a scholar. I guess Stephen was what we would call in Trinidad their "lagniappe"! At their home at the time of this Census, there was also a lady called Jane Brenner, a widow of 55 years old, who was a 'lodger' or boarder. She was a ‘needlewoman’ from Hampshire. We don't know her connection, if any, with the family, but are curious to find out why she was living with them. The final Census in which we find James Shepherd and his wife Elizabeth, was recorded in 1891; James and his wife Elizabeth were living at 2 Kingshame Terrace, Basin Road, Chichester. James was still a Gardener. Their youngest son, twenty-year old Stephen, was ‘Drapers Assistant’ and was living at this address with his parents in their golden years. From notations on the back of a photo of the brothers Charles and Stephen, we believe that James and Elizabeth had thirteen children in all; but so far we have only been able to find ten of them. Left is Charles Sheppard born 1853 and his youngest brother Stephen, born in 1862. The handwriting on the back of the photo is that of Charles' daughter Nellie, born in 189 1. This story continues with only two of James' and Elizabeth’s offspring – the middle children: Charles , who remained in England, and the brother who came right after him, Alfred Sheppard . Alfred's life would take him to the island of Trinidad. There he would marry and make Trinidad his permanent home. He became my great-grandfather and that of all the Trinidad Sheppard/Mendes families of my generation.

Elsie Mabel Gomez Sheppard (Click on the photos to enlarge them, and use the arrows to scroll through the album.) Elsie, Charles and family Elsie and Florence MA2.jpeg Elsie with Joan de Sousa (Bodu) Her eldest grandchild "Down the islands" Barbados Elsie with her youngest son Andrew Elsie with Andrew and Robert Cutting her birthday cake Image.jpg

Barbados Polo Archer family POLO IN BARBADOS A Personal Memoir https://www.polobarbados.com/ My involvement with the Barbados Polo Club started the year I married Tony Archer. It was soon after we returned from our honeymoon in July 1966. The first polo match he took me to was at the Garrison, where I watched him play for the first time. Polo had been played there by British cavalry officers in 1884 when the Club was first formed. According to the late Keith Melville, who presided as President for thirty-nine years, the club became inactive between 1929 and 1939 due to the Great Depression. After 1939, the Club was revived and polo was played at the Garrison once more, mostly by the Barbadian planters. Tony was not a planter, but he had a deep love for horses and all equestrian sports. It was all new to me as an 18 year old Trinidadian girl who had never been around horses before, far less watched a polo match. I seldom missed a polo afternoon when my husband played. One by one, as our babies were born (there were five of them) they would be packed up and carted along with us to polo. In those days, it felt like a family affair and generations of polo players enjoyed the sport and the socializing afterwards. When the Polo Club moved from the Garrison to Holders, there was no clubhouse, only a tent made up of palm leaves. The bar was the back of our station wagon, as Tony was in charge of the bar. Needless to say, we were always the last to leave! Members ran up tabs and I assisted Tony in sending out the bar bills at month end, all written by hand. By the end of 1966, the clubhouse had become a reality and was ready for the first touring team from Potomac, USA. A team from Barbados had played against Potomac the year before, and thus began long and lasting friendships and competitive tournaments with the Americans. Sandwiches and cakes were made by members' wives who provided and served afternoon teas. Back then, polo wives prepared dishes for the dinners served at the club house after tournaments with visiting teams. Casette tapes provided music for dancing, and the bar which was located in the centre of the clubhouse was solid! Children of polo players loved to run barefoot and wild on the field after matches and often had little polo sticks made for them to knock balls. Many of these children became players themselves when they grew up, and now several of their children also play polo. When I came across an article tucked between Tony's scrapbook of 'horsie' stuff and read a visitor’s description of an afternoon at the Barbados Polo Club in 1969, it jogged my memory and senses. She had it exactly right. Fifty-five years ago, polo on the island was not yet the popular spectator sport it has become today. It was for many generations of Barbadians and their families simply a "polo afternoon”. Really, a wonderful afternoon. Many of us young mothers were juggling watching the kids and trying to keep an eye on the game so that we could be suitably excited when our man scored or mutter soothing commiserations when his team lost. There were spills and falls and fouls and sometimes we could hear some unmentionable language among the thundering hooves and clatter of sticks. And then there were the post-mortems of the game, the after-match banter in the clubhouse well into the dark of night, babies in their carrycots that slept blissfully throughout all the raising decibels. Over the years, Tony served as Secretary/Treasurer and was a playing member of The Barbados Polo Club. He represented Barbados in several international tournaments. After my husband's untimely passing in 1984, I was granted Honorary Life Membership for his sterling contribution. This honour I treasure, and the memories make me smile. The following article has been transcribed from these pages ‘THE POLO GROUNDS OF BARBADOS’ "Barbados is the Caribbean bastion of the very British sport of polo – developed by the ancient Egyptians and named by the Tibetans." From the Caribbean BEACHCOMBER, July/August 1969 with text by Carol Howland Nothing indicated that this grassy plain might be a polo field. The field was empty, the grass a deep healthy green, joined by a mane of trees to a sky heavily laden with violet clouds. The October afternoon was warm, tropical, languorous. To the west lay the sea, fired by the late afternoon sun to a blade of blinding silver. A gang of little Bajan boys came running up, laughing and tapping metal hoops over the rutted track that ran along the edge of the field. On the theory that where there are horses – or about to be horses – there little boys are found, I asked them if this was Holder’s Hill, home of the Barbados Polo Club. “Yeah, the horses, they goin’ to be heah soon now.” They continued on with their hoops to the end of the field. It seemed a large field to an eye accustomed to American football. But how much larger it must have had to be to accommodate a couple of thousand Egyptians performing their springtime fertility rites – the alleged origin of the game. The Egyptians, using the ball as the symbol of fertility, divided themselves into “teams” representing the opposing forces of spring and winter, these “teams” sometimes numbering as many as a thousand each. It was the Persians however, who in the first few centuries of the Christian era adapted the springtime rite of horseback. From Persia the game traveled East during the 5th century, gaining a name in Tibet as “pulu”. From Tibet it moved on to China and is first mentioned in literature of that country by the poet She Chaun Chi, who died in 713 A.D. Polo is known to have been popular in India as early as the 16th Century. By the time the British arrived in the 19th, it had almost disappeared. The British carried the game back to England, and polo was first played in the West at the Hurlingham Club of London in 1873, introduced by officers of the 10th Hussars. A year later the club men sat down and drew up the first rules of the modern game. Teams were reduced from eight or ten players to five, soon further reduced to the present-day four. The field was drawn at 200 by 300 yards. Regulation mallets were to be made of cane or rattan, measuring from 50 to 60 inches long. Balls for outdoor play were to be made of hard willow root. And the game was divided into periods called chukkers, seven-and-a-half minutes long with three-minute breaks for changing ponies. I watched the little boys, still driving their hoops, loping barefoot through the soft grass across the field. Then came the sound of a straining engine, and a horse trailer hitched to a station wagon appeared at the crest of the hill. It bounced over the track and came to a halt. A stable boy got out, lowered a ramp, and let down a sleek bay. He was a beautiful animal, gleaming in the sun, tossing his head cheerfully as the groom struggled down the ramp with saddle, bridle and other paraphernalia. As if by signal, other trucks and trailers began to arrive. In now more than ten minutes the place was aswarm with wives chatting about children, clothes, and cane. Knots of men, dashing and lean-looking in their flared riding breeches and knee-high boots polished to a fine sheen, with here and there a mallet or a helmet in hand, discussed the progress of this or that horse. Each animal, in turn, had its crowd of boyish admirers. The grooms worked unhurriedly, as though the sun would hang there an inch above the sea like a spotlight until the play was finished. What might well have been no more than a grassy pasture was now undeniably a polo field. Anxious horses, shanks bound, pawed the earth, snorted nervously, side-stepped and jostled their magnificent heads up and down in an arched motion that could only be interpreted as “let’s go.” Heavy in the air were the mingled odors of horses, leather, saddle soap, polished metal, grass, earth and sea – a good rich aroma. One by one the players began to break away from their groups to approach a slim gray-haired man who appeared to be an official. Margaret Dowding, who serves as official timekeeper for the club and is the wife of one of the players, explained that since it is always uncertain who will turn out to play, the club uses a handicap system of drawing lots so that the teams will be evenly matched. The players began to don the team weskits. One of them swung into his saddle and galloped onto the field. More followed until a round dozen or so were swinging mallets and charging up and down. “These are warm-up skirmishes,” Mrs. Dowding said. “They’ll take all the horses out for a minute or two to limber them up. Most of the players own two or three horses.” There are about 30 playing members in the club and 40 or 50 horses. Most of the horses are either race horses which haven’t lived up to expectations, or show horses, or sometimes ponies, bought very young when their previous owners didn’t believe they showed promise. Mrs. Dowding’s husband, Andrew, bought one such pony. Now, after much patient training, he is one of the best horses in the club, to the chagrin of the man who sold him. It takes four or five years to properly train a horse for the game. He must learn to respond to finger-tip control. He must learn to stop short, turn sharply, twist and weave. But most importantly, he must become accustomed to having the mallet swung close to his head. To my surprise, a woman took the field. “A lot more used to go out,” Mrs. Dowding said, “but not many now.” I asked when polo was first played in Barbados. No one seemed to know exactly, but it is known that it was played on the Old Parade Ground in colonial days by officers of the British troops garrisoned in the still-standing red barracks buildings in St. James.** Whether or not this was before James Gordon Bennet, publisher of the old New York Herald introduced it to the U.S. in Rhode Island, in 1876, is uncertain. In any case, what began in Barbados as the sport of gentlemen soldiers has become the legacy of gentlemen planters. The present Barbados Club was founded in 1937 by Henry A. Arthur, now owner of the Ridgeway Plantation in St. Thomas. (His son, Andrew, is currently a playing member.) Jamaica, with the only other club in the Caribbean, visited for a series in 1949. Barbados played a series against Caracas in 1951 and made a return visit to Jamaica in 1964. A boost came in 1965 when Janet Kidd, daughter of Lord Beaverbrook, British publishing magnate, leased a cane field to the club. The cane was uprooted, the field planted in grass and inaugurated by a visit of the Potomac Club of Washington D.C. in January, 1966. Photo on right: l/r Rachel Carpenter, John Marsh, Hon. Mrs. Janet Kidd, 1966 The Holders polo field was still planted in sugar cane, and these photos were taken when some of the members went to have a look around. The bell announced the first chukker of the day. Extra horses and players filed from the field, leaving ten men, four on each team, and the two referees. Another bell and the sharp crack of mallet against ball set the game in motion. How beautiful it was to watch – choreography as graceful as a ballet. A fast-moving, exciting sport, it had none of the monotony of tennis or the incomprehensibility of football. It features splendid animals trained to reach to man’s wishes. Aside from the fact that only a man of some means can afford to keep horses, have the leisure to train them or the wherewithal to hire trainers, it is little wonder polo found favor among the British gentry. Charging up and down the field they went, mallets held high in striking position. A long drive, the wooden ball whizzing through the grass; then the crack of a mallet would turn the pack off into a new direction. Occasionally a player riding in hard from the side would reverse the ball. Almost by synchronization the horses would wheel and charge off toward the opposite goal. Sometimes a series of short intercepted drives would draw them into a tight, twisting skirmish, to be broken by a long drive out into the clear. The bell rang again, ending the first chukker. This would give the players time to change horses. Suddenly I realized I was probably the only spectator. Everyone else was either a player, a club member, or somehow related. I asked why it was so; weren’t visitors welcome? The answer: of course. But Bajans (as Barbadians call themselves) are avid cricket fans, and as it happens, cricket matches are also played on Saturday afternoons. And so, were it not for a few die-hard devotees, an elegant sport that started as a free-for-all fertility rite in ancient Egypt would languish for lack of popularity. But in spite of the lack of glory, in Barbados every Saturday afternoon from June to January when the cane crop has been harvested and the sun is beginning its rapid descent, the planters don their helmets, grasp their mallets, mount gleaming steeds and ride out for a few chukkers in the grand old tradition of the gentlemanly sport. ** (My note: The barracks are actually in St. Michael, by the Garrison - not St. James.) BARBADOS POLO CLUB HOSTED BRITISH ROYALTY - 1973 King Charles III, formerly known as The Prince of Wales, became King on the death of his mother Queen Elizabeth II on 8 September 2022. In August 1973, the Bajan magazine published the following article about Prince Charles and the Barbados Polo Club. As my husband, Tony Archer, was one of the polo players who played matches with him, I had the pleasure of an informal chat with the young Prince Charles after chukkas in the club house at Holders. "H.R.H Prince Charles plays polo in Barbados" "One of Prince Charles' real loves is the game of polo and while here on a visit to Barbados during the month of June aboard the H.M.S. Minerva he was invited to play several chukkas on no less than two different occasions as well as an afternoon of practise with members of the Barbados Polo Club. The Prince himself a good polo player again met some of the same Barbadian players with whom he played against last summer in England. Polo fans turned out in large numbers to see the matches and several had the good fortune of talking with the charming young gentleman who has the ability of immediately putting his audience at ease." l/r Geoff Howell (backing camera), Paul Officer, the Prince's Equerry, C.O. Williams (pointing) H.R.H. Prince Charles, Ken Frost (President Barbados Polo Club), Tony Archer, Vere Davis and Owen Deane. l/r Andy Dowding, Tony Archer playing #4, Vere Davis centre, H.R.H. Prince Charles, Roger Gooding playing #2 Typical after-match in the clubhouse, sometime in the seventies. COW (Sir Charles Othneil Williams) and Tony with his boot on the stack of old-time metal chairs. Hot, sweaty polo team shirts had already been changed and it was time for socializing. I was somewhere there and our children were running around playing (running wild) on the polo field in the dark. THE BARBADOS POLO CLUB ARCHIVAL PHOTOS Photo restoration by Richard Archer TONY'S SCRAPBOOK Newspaper clippings of various equestrian events Barbados Polo Team to Jamaica - 1969 l/r: Tony Archer, Vere Davis, C.O Williams, Andy Dowding, John Kidd Above: Our son, Wayne Archer - President of the Barbados Polo Club 2013 - 2026 Below: Wayne's son Joshua Archer, current Secretary of the Barbados Polo Club Below: At the presentation of the Tony Archer Memorial Trophy in March 2017, held before the start of the Cheshire vs. Barbados match. Far left is our granddaughter Zoe and her mother Monique Archer, whose team won. Our family donated the challenge trophy to the club in the 80's. March 2017 - Margaret Dowding (referred to in the article above) and myself, with my sons Wayne and Richard Archer In February 2024 the Whitehall team lead by my grandson Joshua Archer won his grandfather's memorial trophy l/r: Richard Archer, Valerie and husband Meindert v.d. Meulen, Joshua Archer, his parents Monique and Wayne Archer, Ingrid Martinez Archer and her husband Eduardo Martinez See also: J.A.K. (Tony) Archer - Barbados Turf Club The Archer Family Barbados This page has been lovingly created in memory of John Anthony Keith (Tony) Archer 23 March 1939 - 14 July 1984