To forget one's ancestors is to be a brook without a source, a tree without a root.

Trinidad Police Force vs. Messrs. Wuppermann, Prahl & Co. Capt. Arthur Wybrow Baker Inspector Commandant of the Trinidad Police Sgt. Major Alfred Sheppard Trinidad Police Force, from 1880 - 1905 Introduction I came across an article in a 19th century Trinidad newspaper report and was fascinated by the story. I quickly realized that my great-grandfather was a key witness in an important court case. His evidence in the case was reported verbatim. Alfred Sheppard sworn: "I am a Sergeant of Police, and clerk in the Inspector’s Office in Port of Spain. I issue - that is - make out Permits for the Commandant’s signature on applications to remove gunpowder. " It's not every day that one gets a first hand peep into a day of one's ancestor's work life, unless that ancestor is a famous person. This was just a young English policeman doing his duty in the British colony of Trinidad. I could almost hear his voice and visualize him as he recalls exactly his role in each of the three charges brought against the defendants. The newspaper report dated Saturday, August 5 1882 inspired me to write the followin g short story. To see the actual article in the digital Supplement to the Port of Spain Gazette, Saturday 5 August, 1882. Click here. I have transcribed the entire newspaper article for easy reading. Click here It is early Monday morning in Trinidad, on the last day of a humid July in 1882. Sergeant Alfred Sheppard, a 27 year-old English officer of the British Constabulary is getting ready for work, but he knows this is no ordinary working day. As he carefully combs his dark hair and makes sure his uniform is impeccable, he’s tense and focussed. He is a man trained in details and precision. He had served with his Regiment in Sussex since he was 19, was sent to Trinidad as a Colour Sergeant when he was 23, and had left the army to join the Trinidad Police Force as Supt. Sergeant in 1880 when he was 25. Alfred's duty on this day is to appear in the Police Court in Port of Spain to give key evidence at a trial that has had the merchant community and influential white elite of Port of Spain buzzing for weeks. He would be the first witness called to give evidence for the Prosecution. The highly respectable family firm of Messrs. Wupperman Prahl & Co. was facing a Police charge of illegally removing gunpowder from the Powder Magazine, with three separate offenses contrary to the Ordinance No. 2 that had been passed in 1880. They were alleged to have been committed on the 11th, 20th and 21st of July 1882. On this day, they would face trial. By 1882 Trinidad had become a land of immigrants under Victorian British rule. One of the partners in the accused firm, Adolpho Wupperman, was married to Miss Marie Adele Ganteaume de Monteau - a young lady from a Trinidad upper-class French creole family. There must have been an air of anxious anticipation, as connected and concerned family members - German, French and British - colleagues and compatriates from the business community- filled the seats of the Police Court. The Port of Spain Gazette of Saturday, August 5 1882 published a full transcript of the proceedings. Among the several newspapers published in those days, The Port of Spain Gazette catered mostly to the planter and upper class of Trinidad. They reported that “The respectability of the Defendants, no doubt, was the reason for the large audience present at the trial - unquestionably, the enquiry was of considerable importance.” As he entered the courtroom filled with the "Who's Who" of the community, the Inspector Commandant, Capt. Arthur Wybrow Baker must have struck quite an imposing figure. The Englishman, then 39 years old, was already well known throughout Trinidad for his decisiveness and skilled leadership as Chief of Police. These were times of social unrest. Baker had led his force on horseback, with unflinting bravery through the difficult, tumultuous Carnival Canboulay Riots of the previous year. He has been described as a fine figure of a man, over 6 ft. tall, well-built, with dark black hair and mustache, with striking eyes. Most importantly, he was to conduct the prosecution himself. No wonder the trial attracted such a large audience. Adolpho Wupperman’s business partner, Fritz Prahl, came from Lubeck, Germany. He had first set up business in Cuidad Bolivar, Venezuela. Prahl’s wife was Adolpho’s sister, Antonia Wupperman. She and her brother were born in Angostura, Venezuela, but their father hailed from Barmen, on the banks of the Wupper river (hence their surname). Through family connections, Adolpho had first come to Trinidad in 1861 as a young man to join the firm of German immigrants Urich & Feez. Then in 1880 the brothers-in-law Adolpho Wupperman and Fritz Prahl formed their business partnership. Their retail store was located on Almond Walk, Port of Spain, a few doors down from The Caracas Hotel. It was there that an observant and curious Police Constable Brady, who happened to be on the beat near the Gunpowder Magazine, became suspicious of irregularities when he saw three deliveries of unmarked cases leave the building and be offloaded at the hotel. It appears that acting upon this, a warrant was issued and there was what we would call in today's world "a bust". The bold Irish Sergeant-Major Briefly gave testimony that, armed with the warrant, he went to the Caracas Hotel to investigate. In his statements he revealed that quantities of gunpowder were discovered in a trunk in a room in the hotel. He described in great detail what he found and seized. Despite the Defendants' pleas of Not Guilty to each of the charges, the evidence of their infringement of the law was damning enough for the Judge to find them Guilty on all three charges. The audience went home stunned and the Defendants disappointed. The Police had won their case that day. It is not known what became of the appeal filed on their behalf by their lawyer, but the firm of Wuppermann, Prahl & Co. was dissolved the following year. Fritz Prahl and his family returned to Germa ny. Inspector John N. Brierley 1871 From an historical point of view the newspaper report is valuable, as the strict regulations and system in place for removal of gunpowder from the Police Gunpowder Magazine in Trinidad under British Colonial rule are set out. Alfred Sheppard's duties in giving permission for this as a Sergeant and clerk in the Inspector Commandant’s office are explained by him. To understand why the case drew such a large audience, I researched the company involved and wanted to know more about the social atmosphere in Trinidad in that era. My sources were chiefly: "The Germans in Trinidad" and "The Years of Revolt by historian Fr. Anthony de Verteuil Caribbean History Archives by historian Gerard A. Besson Valerie Sheppard 7 January, 2023

Ida Amelia Sheppard and her husband Leslie Robert de Sousa Four years into their marriage, my grandparents Charles and Elsie (Gomez) Sheppard welcomed their fourth child into their home in Edward Street, Port of Spain. They named their daughter Ida Amelia, born on 11 April 1913. She was a baby sister for Jessie who was then 4, Madge 3, and Boysie who was just 14 months old at the time. Over the next fourteen years, these four oldest children would welcome nine more younger siblings into their large Sheppard fold. As one of the older children, Ida grew up helping to care for her younger sisters and brothers. With his growing family, Charlie Sheppard bought a large house situated at the corner of Richmond and Park Streets, Port of Spain. The Sheppard family was living in this lovely family home at #30 Richmond Street when Charlie died at 45 years old in 1931. Ida had just turned eighteen. Left fatherless, Ida and her other older siblings undertook their responsibilities in helping their mother raise the younger children. In 1919 at the height of popularity for the Model T, a young Irish immigrant who settled in Trinidad acquired the country's sole Ford dealership. He was Charles McEnearney. He went into partnership with Trinidadian Robert de Sousa , an estate proprietor and entrepreneur. Together they owned and ran Trinidad's first Ford dealership, Charles McEnearney & Co. Ltd. By the time the Sheppard family was living at 38 Richmond Street, their company had established their automobile dealership and showroom right across the street from the Sheppard's residence. This is where Robert de Sousa's son Leslie would meet and fall in love with the beautiful Ida Sheppard. A romance and courtship ensued, and Leslie was warmly welcomed into the Sheppard family. Ida and Leslie were married on 22nd July 1933 at St. Ann's Church of Scotland, Port of Spain. It was the start of a long and happy marriage. Leslie and Ida presented Elsie Sheppard with her first grandchild, when their daughter Joan Elsie was born in 1934. Their family was complete by 1938 with the addition of two more beautiful daughters - Elizabeth Joyce (Betty) and Helen Jean. On the front staircase of her Richmond Street home circa 1936 Grandma Elsie Sheppard with her first grandchild, Joan de Sousa In her short memoirs "My Precious Jewels" written in later life, my grandmother Elsie called Ida her "Emerald". This is what she wrote about her: “Grandchildren started to appear because my third daughter married a wealthy estate owner. He had a wonderful country home, where he carried on a farm and raised cows, sheep, goats, chickens and ducks. Quickly babies came and their three lovely little girls were brought up among nature - the mountains, the river and the animals. It was a home that was always a nice place to go to, so my small children often spent their vacations with Emerald. Her husband was always proud to say, “My wife churned the butter, she made the jam, the cake …..” They were always very happy." My father Andrew was just ten years old when his sister Ida introduced her boyfriend Leslie to the Sheppard family. He always loved him and looked up to him with the greatest admiration. I recently discovered that he had written about him in his memoirs, in an article entitled "The Portuguese of Trinidad", dated July 1989, transcribed below: Leslie de Sousa, a perfect gentleman and a totally self-effacing, humble person, commanded great respect for his knowledge of cocoa and coffee as well as tonka beans (which are used for perfuming soaps and talcum powder). Leslie managed La Concordia Estate which occupied a large area of that part of the Northern Range known as Caura. It was all undulating land with a river and streams flowing throughout. It was rather difficult land to manage but through his quiet leadership La Concordia Estate prospered. The labourers were mostly of Carib/Indian origin with a dash of Spanish ancestry interwoven. Hard-working people who were always pleasant and docile. They worked from 5.30 a.m. to 5.30 pm. Leslie was married to Ida Sheppard and they raised three daughters between Caura and Port of Spain, where they attended school. When Caura was acquired by Government to create a dam the family moved to Diego Martin, another agricultural area near to Port of Spain. The dam idea was aborted and was the object of major scandal and corruption by Government officials. Leslie's father, Robert de Sousa, who was part owner of the cocoa estate, was also involved in the automobile business. He joined in a partnership with an Irish man, Charles McEnearney, to become distributors of Ford vehicles. They did very well until Robert (Bobby) decided to live in Grenada where he ran Geo. F. Huggins & Co.Ltd. and became a very wealthy land owner. The children were educated and lived in Trinidad with their mother in a large, stately house around the Queen's Park Savannah. Painting of the de Sousa Family home where Alice de Sousa lived with the children (Courtesy Joan (de Sousa) Bodu) Having settled into their new home in Deigo Martin, Leslie and Ida became pioneers in livestock farming, when they started Trinidad's first chicken farm. In 2012, an article about this was featured in "The Westerly". THE WESTERLY ISSUE 62, 2012 - PAGE 22 FIRST EVER CHICKEN FARM STARTED IN BLUE BASIN Information submitted by Joan Bodu (Transcribed from the article) In the 1940’s Leslie de Sousa moved from a cocoa, coffee and tonca bean estate in Caura to Blue Basin. His father had owned “La Concordia” in Caura where Leslie lived as a child and as a young man, until the land was bulldozed to make way for the Caura Dam (which incidentally never materialized). Leslie then moved to Blue Basin where he set up the first Poultry Breeder Farm in Trinidad. He built a house on 75 acres of land and set up buildings for laying, hatching and breeding. He and his wife Ida (nee Sheppard) raised a family of three daughters there. A photo of the old house is shown on left. As young girls, his daughters helped him on the farm every day by turning the eggs in the incubators before they left for school, and also later at night. In the morning, their mother used to drive them to Bishop’s High School in town, and after school in the afternoon they would walk down to the corner of Richmond Street and Arapita Avenue to get a wooden type bus, which would take them as far as the bus stop near the water wheel at River Estate. Their mother would meet them there and take them the rest of the way by car. Joan, Leslie’s daughter, remembers family and friends coming to visit them on weekends. The children would go to the back of the property which led to a spring and climb up the rocks, as high as they could go. On the other side of the Blue Basin road there was a piece of land which her father had cultivated with pink grapefruit. Behind this was the continuation of the Blue Basin stream. It was here that Joan and her sisters, along with the Salandy children, would catch crayfish. Another family who lived not far away was the Benson family. Joan remembers these years with fondness and the freedom she enjoyed as a child living in the ‘country’. After many years, her father Leslie sold the property and gave up his chicken breeding. The area nearby is now known as Blue Basin Gardens. Ida and Leslie de Sousa's daughters l/r Joan Bodu, Betty Scott, Helen Humphrey The de Sousa and Sheppard families became more entwined in 1938 when Leslie's younger sister Joyce married Ida's brother Bertie , the brother who came right after her in the family. This close family relationship continued to grow over the years. The marriages of Leslie's and Ida's daughters in 1955, 1956 and 1957 were occasions for great family celebrations - and more so when grandchildren started arriving. Leslie knew and enjoyed all five of his grandchildren, but passed away on 16th May 1974 at 65 years old. After Leslie died, Ida and her older sister Jessie who was also a widow, lived together in O'Connor Street. There they ran a preparatory school for several years, and many people who were their little students have the fondest memories of their early school days with "Auntie Ida" and "Auntie Jessie" , as they called them.. Sheppard sisters in Trinidad, February 1993 l/r Flo Johnson , Sybil Gibbon , Ida de Sousa , Audrey Clark I remember Auntie Ida as a fun-loving, beautiful lady, always stylish and erect in her bearing, lady-like and gentle in her manner. She lived to be ninety years old and to this day is very much missed and lovingly remembered by all her family. Ida and Leslie are laid to rest with Leslie's mother, Alice (Ferreira) de Sousa, at the Mucurapo Cemetery, Port of Spain, Trinidad. See also: Friendships~partnerships~family ties

The Late Great Bridgetown Written on 19th April, 1989 by my father ANDREW DESMOND SHEPPARD (1922 - 1991) (transcribed from personal family memorabilia) Oh! Bustling, busy, affluent, happy city of Bridgetown - where are you now? We yearn for your natural, native charm. This has all but disappeared. Why? and where have all the things that made this old city gone? In a word, Barbadians have become an automotive society - one car per person - almost. See them driving down Bay Street, Belmont Road and Spring Garden all headed for Bridgetown and in most cars, only the driver may be found. Parking has become a serious problem. You may call it pride of ownership, privacy or whatever - but the fact is that we have become a selfish society. Car pools do not exist. See them pouring out of Regency Park, Sheraton Park, Navy Gardens, Rockley, St. James, every morning all heading and hoping for a space of 16' x 6' to park and spend the day, basking in the tropical sun. The occupants of these thousands of cars simply melt into the offices and banks which proliferate - there to get cool in air-conditioned comfort and stare at their computers and count their intransit cash. A far cry from those "bad" old days of bicycles, open windows and paper weights. No more time for idle talk and pleasant conversation. In spite of all the modern facilities and equipment and, we hope, improved efficiency of the population, we as a community are in danger of losing our fine sense of human compassion and our identities. Materialism and selfish greed are now imbued in most of our citizens, who are the young and growing. Pleasure and noisy music have replaced peace and serenity. Friendship is measured by your ability to spend good, hard-earned money on entertainment. Smiling has become a false effort. You have to be seriously taught to smile. Whither Bridgetown? Let us stroll down Bay Street towards Bridgetown, starting at the gap leading to the Hilton and Grand Barbados. We pass a small mall and a soft drinks factory, an old decadent club, tyre-repair shop and gas station. Janitorial service, exclusive boutique, restored old house where Captain Thorne ran his private school, other small businesses, a night snack bar - the defunct "Boys Club" and now Government Offices. Information, Prime Minister, Cabinet Office, Government Printery, and opposite, the beautiful Esplanade with its pretty band stand. Then a run of restored buildings, a large vacant spot where there existed an ice factory, now piled with building rubble - ugly. A semi-private club, gas-station, nursing home, doctors' office, tourist facility, old house, more Government offices, Child Care opposite to Family Planning and preceded by National Assistance and opposite to these, the Jemmots Lane Health and Education complex and, in the centre - St. Patrick's Catholic Cathedral. And now the Red Light District on both sides, interrupted by some offices, another gas station, another office building, an abandoned, derelict old home (the Innisses lived here), more old buildings, the Boat Yard, automobile dealer, vacant sugar warehouse, another automobile dealer, and importer-distributor of food and alcoholic products, a vacant burnt out lot opposite to old church, renovated building (now stores and offices and a club), customs broker, fast food, hardware, shipping office, record shop. Opposite to all of this and facing Independence car park is Manning's large building. The arch and bridge is faced by restaurants, boutiques, travel agents. The road leading to the left takes you to the Coast Guard Headquarters. No longer does the Swing Bridge swing. It is as stiff as an old lady. The schooners, small inter-island vessels, fishing boats have been replaced by tourist-employed marine equipment, i.e. fishing and cruising vessels, all stocked with cool and hot drinks, snacks and temporary cordiality. A great job has been done to cleaning of the Public Buildings and restoration of the Clock - thanks to Her Majesty's visit. Lord Nelson needs a good cleaning. He is turning green with envy of our clean Public Buildings and nearby fountain. The ever present taxis who remind one of the war-time cliché - "They also serve who sit and wait" - wheels were meant for moving! How truly wonderful it would be if these gracious gentlemen could think of taking people to and from work just like those enterprising mini-bus drivers. There must be over 200 taxis. If each one would convey groups of 5 passengers to and from Bridgetown every morning and evening, they would be relieving about 500 drivers of the frustrating experience of fighting traffic to get to and from work. For this convenience, the grateful passengers could pay up to $5.00 each for such a service. What they would have to pay for a car park or car-wash per day. And think of the saving on gasoline and wear and tear on engines and tyres, not to mention the damage done to the paint-work of the cars. They would remain in the cool comfort of their domestic car-port awaiting the return of their relaxed owners. This concept would provide sorely needed income for the patient taxi drivers, the cost of their getting to and from Bridgetown would not change - the rest is solid profit. This would also engender friendships and the participants would feel the happiness of sharing. Most importantly, the awful traffic situation would be eased in a dramatic way. Let us think about it and try it. The taxis could still "sit and wait" or drive our welcome visitors around. But what is most perplexing is the almost complete change which has taken place in Bridgetown. Walk with me up High Street, past Royal Bank, when we meet James Street corner with Roebuck Street. Empty buildings. Closed doors everywhere. Thomas Herbert Hardware is no more. Carter's Wildey now handles their business and Carters might close and consolidate at Wildey's. Big, imposing Barclays Bank building, almost empty, adjoined by at least three previously active businesses - all closed. Kay's House opposite and the rest of the Complex including Bajan Mall. On the ground floor, fewer than ten retail outlets have moved or closed down. Keep moving and you will see building after building closed and with more to come. Looking down on all of this is our large white building, the Central Bank, most of whose office space is vacant. Where are the drivers of all of these cars parked along the road and in any available car park? You might find most of them in insurance offices or more likely, in legal offices - one car, one person. Roebuck street is longing for those hustling bustling days of lorries and jitneys filled with sacks of flour, onions, potatoes, saltfish, liquor. Only one left and barely busy. S.E. Cole, R.L. Seale, Perkins, M.E. Bourne, Alleyne Arthur, etc. etc. all gone, all gone elsewhere, amalgamated or shut down. That street had atmosphere - and smells, but now, like the swing-bridge, it does not swing any more. Our problem is that we have more educated people than we know what to do with. More lawyers than the law should allow. More computer operators than we have computers. More boutiques and beauty shops than we can afford. Electronic gadgets and video shops abound. Idleness and "pleasure" encouraged at every turn. Let us have a long look at our system of education . . . Unedited video footage of Bridgetown, Barbados - Filmed in 1968 Captured with Super 8 film and digitized in Amsterdam in 2010. Original footage owned by the family of Andrew D. Sheppard, Barbados.

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

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

Joseph Alfred Sheppard 1912-1989 A Tribute written on August 16, 1989 by my father, Andrew D. Sheppard (transcribed from personal family memorabilia) Born in Trinidad, February 28, 1912. Died in California, U.S.A. August 16, 1989. In fond memory of Joseph Alfred Sheppard, my eldest brother and best friend. When he returned home from his first day’s attendance as a pupil of Queen’s Royal College at Port- of-Spain, Trinidad, he found a newborn brother, born of Charles and Elsie, at the family residence at Stone Street, Port of Spain. I was the new arrival, being number ten of eventually thirteen children. “Boysie”, as he was affectionately called, felt proud somehow, and thereby started a close affinity between the eldest and the youngest male members of this large family. He was my friend and big brother, being ten years my senior. I followed him everywhere, within certain limits. Boysie was my hero. He could do no wrong. I helped him to clean and lubricate his bicycle and eventually, his motorcycle. I watched as he painted beautiful pictures of cowboys and Indians, ships, airplanes, birds and flowers. I saw him make rocking horses of wood, beautifully painted like those at Coney Island, complete with upholstered seats. I admired him in his college’s military cadet’s uniform. He looked so tall and handsome. He was an excellent marksman and won several prizes for his skill. Boysie was a good student and studied hard. He achieved passes with distinction in the Junior and Senior Cambridge Examinations. He enjoyed woodwork and photography as hobbies. Boysie, or Joseph, if you wish, had the ability to become a professional man of his choice, but unfortunately it was not then possible for him to satisfy such ambitions because of financial constraints, being the eldest son of a large family with heavy commitments. So Boysie had to go to work at the age of seventeen, accepting a job as an office clerk at a firm of traders and shipping agents, William H. Kennedy & Co Ltd. His natural flair for detail and neatness was soon recognized by his employers and he was placed in charge of the company’s accounts. Boysie became an Accountant, sans certificate, but responsible, able and proud. His personal appearance and exemplary conduct proved to be an asset to this firm, who appreciated his services. At this stage of his career, fate caused him to take a sharp turn into the arena of harsh reality. Our father died, leaving our mother with twelve children to look after. Our youngest brother died three years previously, as a baby. Our eldest sister Jessie and Boysie were the only two children who were working. Jessie earned twelve dollars per month and Boysie was drawing a salary of fifteen dollars. The others were at school. Young Joseph Alfred (Boysie) rose to the occasion in his inimitable manner. He faced up to the facts of life. Here was a mother with no husband and a large flock with 24 eyes looking to her for everything. Boysie immediately assumed command of the financial control of the family. He was the helmsman of a large and leaky ship at the age of seventeen, but he stood steady and helped to steer our lives, which established his skill. We did not end on the rocks, thanks largely to a serious, dedicated and responsible young man named “Boysie”. Especially at this time, I, like his adopted son, looked to Boysie for almost everything within reason. He befriended his youngest brother and he took me for many rides on the pillion of his motorcycle. I have not ridden one since. He showed me how to draw and imbued in me a sense of compassion for our fellow human and animal beings. His kindness led him eventually to become a director and treasurer of the local zoo. One day, he drove home a Ford sports car, which he bought from his savings. He was so proud of this mechanical marvel, which had a folding soft-top and a tumble seat for two, with a total capacity of four persons. He was “King of the Road”. He was the best customer for “Simoniz” wax polish. We all discovered the meaning of elbow grease. Boysie’s car had to work and look the best. He did everything with style. Joseph’s reputation as a gentleman was complemented by his tasteful and impeccable attire, at all times. Today he would be called “Mr. Threads”. His sense of humour was sharp and subtle. His tales and jokes were always accompanied by his almost perfect art of mimicry and his performances at family parties and lodge meetings met with universal acclaim. They were always done in good taste and with a sense of timing. Even old jokes were polished and changed to suit the audience present. Boysie was good company. However, his choice of language was always good and he abhorred cursing, swearing and vulgar behaviour. I said “damn” at home once and received a lecture on “mouth control” which I have never forgotten. Boysie loved the sea, and with some help, built a wooden rowing boat in which he took members of his family and friends for cruises and fishing in the Gulf of Paria. He was an excellent and strong oarsman. We younger brothers helped him with the caulking and painting of the boat, which always had to look the best. As Boysie progressed in his work, he accepted employment with Alcoa Steamship Company’s local office and became their Chief Accountant. He represented Alcoa at many shipping conferences in the Caribbean area as well as in South and North America. Boysie was a great favourite with the executives and staff as with his business associates in the general community. His reputation as an accountant and office manager attracted favourable comments from the heads of the company and staff. Joe did not confine his interests to work only. He always extended a helping hand to his children, who considered him to be the best father anyone could have. His emphasis on good family relationships had a profound effect on all of us and we always tried to preserve a feeling of mutuality and cooperation. His advice on important matters was generally readily accepted because his judgment was fair and uncluttered by prejudice. Boysie always preached fairness and Christian charity and his honest utterances cleared the clouds from our vision and enabled us to see the right way. Rather than condemn the actions of another, he chose to question and analyze the reasons for failure and to offer advice and correction in the true spirit of Christianity. Boysie was an Elder of the St. Ann’s Presbyterian Church of Scotland and read the lessons on many occasions. Unfortunately, his wife Elsa and their four children, three sons and one daughter, were adherents to the Roman Catholic Church and could not nor did not attend their father’s church. However, love, mutual respect and understanding prevailed. He became involved in community affairs and was a member of the Rotary Club. As a Free Mason, he became Master of the Prince of Wales Lodge, Port-of-Spain, and his three sons David, Keith and Ronald, eventually joined their father in the Lodge and, in turn, became Masters of the Lodge. Boysie was a source of joy to behold in his Masonic Master’s regalia. He could have been a prince going to meet his subjects. He was strikingly handsome, always immaculate and appeared to be taller than his 5’9”. At times he appeared to me as 6’6”. The saying “the course of true love never did run smooth” proved to be the case with Boysie’s and Elsa’s marriage. The “impossible” had occurred. Elsa sought a divorce. Naturally, the traumatic effects of this unexpected turn of events upset everyone and especially Boysie. He was sent by the Alcoa Company to Dutch Guyana (Suriname) to be administrator of their Aluminium Company there. God, in His Divine Wisdom, arranged for Boysie to meet Winifred Van Amson, and they became married and later returned to Trinidad. Winifred has proven her love for Boysie in so many ways and has stood by him during his most difficult periods and has remained faithful and caring to the very end. It was Boysie’s very good fortune to have met and married Wini, whose courage, devotion and dedication to her husband are to be admired and emulated. She is truly a Christian lady. They produced two wonderful boys, Howard, now 27, and Clifford, 23. At the time of their marriage, Wini also had a twelve-year-old son, Jules, who now works for Universal Studios, and also owns a photography studio and custom lab. Howard is recently married, and is a highly rated singer, with several awards to his credit, and also a Computer Programmer by trade. Clifford is a Flight Engineer of a Lockheed L1011 passenger aircraft for T.W.A., domiciled in New York. Last, but by no means least, are the first four wonderful children of the first marriage – Janet, David, Keith and Ronnie. It was a terribly sad day when Ronnie passed away on May 7th of this year after a long and painful illness. God rest his soul. David and Keith are married and live in Trinidad with their children; so do Janet and her husband and family. They are all greatly admired and respected for their unity as a family and for their loyalty and devotion to their father. I almost omitted to mention that Joseph also held the positions of General Manager of Trinidad’s only flour mill as well as of the largest ice factory, which jobs he performed with his usual efficiency. Finally, I commend all members of this enormous family and everyone who had the privilege of knowing Boysie, Joe, Joseph Sheppard, to consider him to be the ideal human being he endeavoured to be. We all know that Boysie is with the Angels, who will forever take care of him as directed by the Great and Divine Architect of the Universe. Rest in peace, dear brother. Written with love by Andrew Desmond Sheppard August 16, 1989 Boysie's Children Children with Elsa Carmen Fernandes Janet (Sheppard) de Lima David Sheppard Keith Sheppard Ronald Sheppard (1945-1989) Children with Winifred Tilly (Winnie) van Amson Howard Sheppard Cliff Sheppard Click on this image to watch a short video of Boysie dancing with his sister Audrey (Sheppard) Clark Boysie with his brother Robert Sheppard

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.)

Genealogy and family ANDREW DESMOND SHEPPARD MY FATHER (26 September, 1922 - 20 May, 1991) An Appreciation written by Andrew’s seven children delivered at his Service of Thanksgiving by his brother-in-law, Harry St. Hill. A LOVER - He loved life; he loved people A FIGHTER – He fought for what he believed in A FRIEND – Nothing was too much for him to do for you A HUSBAND – Faithful, devoted A FATHER – We thank God for giving him to us Not a sportsman, not a wealthy entrepreneur, but an entertainer whose stage was life; an artist of living beings – brimming with love and sympathy. His presence brought warmth and the glow of sunshine. He made his influence felt. Andy was genial, positive, confident and the eternal optimist. As a handsome young officer of The Royal Engineer Corps of The British Army in Trinidad, Andy came to Barbados in 1942 on vacation. He was affectionately nicknamed “Tyrone” because he bore a striking resemblance to the movie idol of the day, Tyrone Power. On that occasion, he met 16 year old Betty St. Hill, who was rehearsing her tap-dance routine for a Sky High show. Love at first sight it was, not only for Betty and Andy, but for the entire St. Hill family who welcomed him warmly as both son and brother. It was the start of a life-long romance, for the following year they were married and their union of 48 years produced seven children and 17 grandchildren. As a father and husband, he could not possibly have provided a more secure and safe home for his children to grow up in. Never did we have to worry about Andy and Betty falling apart; the thought never crossed our minds. This was the cornerstone of the foundation of the house that Andrew built. A house of honesty. We have never known a more honest man. He respected the law and his integrity was unquestioned. He was a Christian in the truest sense as he was kind and generous to a fault. He always went over and above his call of duty to go the extra mile, often to the detriment of his health. In 1984 he was appointed the Honorary Consul for Peru – a post which he considered a great honour and accepted with much pride. Growing up as the tenth child in a family of twelve taught Andy many lessons about the value of family life. He held the greatest love and respect for “Mama” , his mother who was widowed when he was only eight, yet held her large family of six boys and six girls together with amazing fortitude. He adopted his mother’s philosophy which were words of wisdom from the Bible . . . “and it came to pass”. This meant “bear with it – things will get better”. Andy was a charmer – a gentleman in every sense of the word, and always the life of the party with his unforgettable repertoire of jokes. In his younger days and even at his 60th birthday party, Andy liked to perform his famous party trick. This was a handstand done on a chair which was balanced precariously on four Coca-Cola bottles. He went through life like that – always balancing and amazingly making it – despite the odds. Andy was a man of great emotion - very passionate. He felt things to the bottom of his soul. He passed that on to his children. He loved music and took pride in fostering his children’s and grandchildren’s abilities, talents and ambitions. His constant source of joy was to listen to his Bets play the piano. We will always think of him as “The Leader of the Band.” Andrew Sheppard was so brave, so positive – we never truly understood how serious was his condition and how deep his pain. He put on his best face and smiled as he left us – unsure of the future yet true to character, hoping for the best. He felt secure in the knowledge that he had a strong and united family. A family he loved so deeply and a family who loved him so very, very much. His passion for life will live on and he will be deeply missed by everyone upon whose life he touched. Andrew's Musings & Memoirs My father was the tenth child in the Sheppard family of twelve children. His father died when he was just 8 years old, so for the most part, he grew up being nurtured by his mother, older siblings and their beloved Bertha . The most important thing in his life was his family. Anyone who knew Andrew Sheppard would remember that he was quite the raconteur, and seemed to have an endless supply of jokes to tell, imitating all kinds of accents in the most amusing way. His effervescent personality and joie de vivre endeared him to everyone he met. What we didn't realize until after he was gone, was his gift for writing. We discovered a folder full of beautifully handwritten stories, penned between October 1986 and August 1990 - just nine months before his untimely passing. Daddy wrote as he lived - from the heart and with passion. His tributes to his mother and siblings overflow with love and respect. We are so grateful that he recorded his early life and background, as well as his thoughts and deep feelings on current affairs in his beloved islands of Trinidad and Barbados during those years. Between the lines of these yellow foolscap pages we have the gift of a lifetime, and we are so grateful for this legacy. These are some of our treasured pages, and more will be added as I continue to transcribe them. My father labelled the folder of his writings: TALES OF ANDREW October 1986 Bertha, A Saint January 1988 Elsie Mabel, Our Mother January 1988 Look Out! February 1988 No. 30 Richmond Street, Port of Spain July 1988 "Morne Jaloux" - Grenada July 1988 Times of our Lives July 1988 "Belmont" - Barbados October 1988 Vin (In Memoriam - George Vincent Gonsalves) March 1989 Respect April 1989 Don Pedro de Roy - from Portugal to Trinidad April 1989 The Late Great Bridgetown July 1989 From Portugal to Trinidad - Part 1 August 1989 Boysie (In Memoriam -Joseph Alfred Sheppard) October 1989 June Stand By - October All Over? October 1989 Bertie (In Memoriam - Charles Albert Sheppard) January 1990 Hello, Look Who's Here - Welcome! August 1990 Lest We Forget - Trinidad Lt. Andrew D. Sheppard and Frances Elizabeth (Betty) St. Hill 31 July, 1943 - Barbados Betty and Andrew - newlyweds in Trinidad Andrew - my Father-giver On the entrance of St. Patricks Cathedral, Barbados 16 July, 1965 - Barbados Video memories of Andrew captured on Super 8 Film and digitized Maracas Bay, Trinidad - around 1964 Andrew about to walk into the sea on his hands to amuse his children My father's burial place is fittingly at the Military Cemetery, Barbados . See also: Frances Elizabeth (Betty) Sheppard née St. Hill "In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future." ~ Alex Haley

Neilsa Marcella Sheppard née Tasker "NiNi" 16 January, 1951 - 29 March, 2024 Listen: Tribute to NiNi Valerie Sheppard 00:00 / 10:35 Tribute by Valerie Sheppard Delivered at A Service of Thanksgiving for Neilsa's life St. Dominic’s Catholic Church, Maxwell, Christ Church, Barbados Friday April 12th, 2024 It was 1967 when my brother Peter first introduced his gorgeous girlfriend to our family. Peter was barely 18, Neilsa Tasker was a schoolgirl, not quite 16. She was a striking beauty and my impression from the outset was that she was different. Exotic, even! NiNi was fun-loving and vivacious, with a quick sense of humour and an infectious, bubbly laugh. She spoke Spanish and had a distinctive, appealing Latina air about her. We all knew that our Petes was completely smitten - and truth be said, that never changed. A child of the fifties, Neilsa was born in Trinidad to Mickey and Elba Tasker. Her dad was Guyanese, of English and Guyanese roots and her mother Venezuelan with some Dutch connections in the island of Saba. Neilsa was their second child, the younger sister of Marcia. The sisters grew up adapting to different cultures, living wherever their father’s work took them - St. Lucia, New York, and Venezuela It was there that Neilsa’s 18 year old sister Marcia died after a short illness. Neilsa was just 14 years old. The memory of Marcia and her tragic parting stayed with NiNi throughout her life. In the mid sixties, Mickey, Elba and Neilsa moved from Venezuela to Barbados where Neilsa was enrolled at the Ursuline Convent to complete her secondary education. From there she continued her studies at the University of the West Indies, obtaining her BA degree in Sociology and History with top honours. As part of the Tasker family of brilliant tennis players, Neilsa developed a great love of the sport and was herself a skilled player. She and Peter enjoyed games of tennis with her dad Mickey, and they remained avid followers of international tennis. She also enjoyed playing racquetball and squash. Neilsa and Peter dated as teenagers, in the days when boys would visit at the girls’ home and parents had to approve and know exactly where they were going and responsibly bring them home at the appointed time. On one occasion, Peter worked up the courage to ask Neilsa’s mother if he could take her to the Hotel Royal in Hastings where there was a live band and open-air dancing on a Friday night. Elba firmly put her foot down - absolutely not, you can’t take her out to a public place like that! But you can take her to the Drive-In or so. Needless to say, that was perfectly okay with them. How Neilsa and Peter loved to tell that joke! Predictably, their young romance blossomed into marriage and a beautiful traditional wedding at St. Patrick’s Cathedral on 17 October 1970 - a few days before Peter’s 21st birthday. Neilsa’s working career took a diverse path, starting with a teaching job at St. Winifred’s school. Her students still recall their stylish teacher who made learning fun for them! Meanwhile, Peter had already embarked on his lifelong career of photography and was offered a job with The Kodak Company in Puerto Rico. While living in Puerto Rico, Neilsa became involved in selling real estate, and it was there that their only child Renee was born in 1976. Peter’s promotions within the Kodak Company took them to live in Rochester, NY, and in Venezuela. Neilsa loved and supported Peter throughout every step of his career. In 1987, they decided to return to Barbados and open their own photography business, launching Sheps Photo, the one-hour photo developing franchise that became a household name in Barbados. Not only was Neilsa a co-owner and Director of Sheps Photo, she was highly skilled in colour printing, and Peter recalls with a grin that some of their customers would insist that “Mrs. Sheps” print their rolls. Neilsa worked long hours alongside Peter in their Mall 34 Sheps Photo business, the first of five outlets they established together in Barbados, also training staff to operate and run them. Neilsa and Peter traveled and cruised the world extensively. Their home overlooking the turquoise waters of Cotton Bay is a reflection of their travels, filled with a fascinating mix of treasures that appealed to her eclectic taste, collected from around the world. Though Neilsa was modest about her many talents, she was a gifted artist, ceramist and interior designer. Her pottery and paintings, her sense of colour and love of handcrafted, earthy items show her deep love of animals and nature. NiNi had a green thumb, and you couldn’t please her better than by giving her a clipping, plant or bulb that she could nuture and watch grow. Every plant she touched flourished. She wasn’t at all materialistic and had no interest in shopping for expensive designer clothes and accessories. Not surprisingly, Peter and Neilsa’s daughter Renee grew up to be an artist, photographer, and costume designer. Neilsa would help Renee make headpieces and costumes for Kadooment, spending days glueing beads, sequins and feathers for her. Eight years ago, after having just crossed the stage as band leader on Kadooment Day in the beautiful costume she had designed, Renee passed away suddenly. Her death was shocking and devasting. But their unending love for each other and for their twin grandsons Harrison and Nicholai saw them through those darkest of times. In her young days Neilsa loved a party, loved to dance and make jokes. She was warm and loving to her nieces and nephews - young people always found her so much fun to be around. With her larger-than-life personality, we all knew that Neilsa was authentic, genuine, with no pretensions. She enjoyed a wonderful lifetime of love and adventures with her Peter and was truly another sister to all of his siblings. In more recent years she was content to be at home surrounded by her dogs, plants and the people she loved. She made our brother the happiest man on earth, and he returned her love with the deepest devotion. NiNi suffered some serious health challenges during the last couple of years, and she faced them bravely with her Peter by her side until the very end. We will always hold Neilsa close in our hearts and remember how loving and kind she was to animals, and especially how she loved and cherished our brother Peter, their daughter Renee and grandsons Harrison and Nicholai. In 2020 during the time of the pandemic, Neilsa and Peter quietly celebrated their Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary at home watching a slideshow of their wedding day that Peter created for his bride. We would now like to share this nostalgic look back to the start of 53 years of their enduring love and life together.

~ Wedding Photos ~ The children of Charles Sheppard & Elsie Gomez (Click on the photos to enlarge and scroll through) Jessie & Man Jessie Mabel Sheppard and Bernard Henry McNee Brash 29 Aug 1936 Boysie & Elsa Joseph Alfred Sheppard and Elsa Carmen Fernandes November 1938, Trinidad Lena Joyce de Sousa married Albert Charles (Bertie) Sheppard who was ill with malaria on their wedding day, 25 November, 1938, Port of Spain, Trinidad John & Juliet John Herbert Sheppard and Juliet Inez Fernandes 20 April, 1939 - Sacred Heart Church, Trinidad Madge & Vin Mary Marjorie Sheppard and George Vincent Gonsalves 14 Sep 1940, Trinidad George & Norah George Havelock Sheppard and Elenora Juliet Laing 27 Feb 1942, Trinidad Audrey & Don Audrey Ethel Sheppard and Donald Elias Clark Trinidad, 18 Mar 1943 Robert & Angela 11th April, 1942 - Trinidad Andrew Sheppard was bestman Sybil Sheppard standing next to groom Sybil & Patrick Sybil Elsie Sheppard and Patrick Vernon Acland Gibbon 19 Jun 1943 Andrew & Betty Andrew Desmond Sheppard and Frances Elizabeth St. Hill 31 Jul 1943, Barbados Colin & Flo Edith Florence Sheppard and Victor Colin Johnson 4 May 1946, Newtown, Trinidad Boysie & Winnie Joseph Alfred Sheppard and Winifred Tilly van Amson 29 July, 1960 - Lutheran Church, Suriname

The Gomez Saga by Tom Bannerman Dr. George Robert Gomez, Nevis - circa 1930/31 (Photo colourized to show details more clearly) Tom Bannerman is a grandson of Dr. George Gomez. The following account is taken from a letter that Tom wrote to his mother Jessie on 15 March, 2014, describing his trip to the Caribbean, and in particular what he discovered about the lives of her parents, Dr. and Mrs. Gomez on the islands of St. Kitts and Nevis. Tom's mother was not quite three years old at the time of her father's death. Her brother Joseph was four and their older sister Euphemia was barely six. I had prepared myself with photocopies of every document concerning the West-Indies that I could find at Kincumber. As well, I read as much as I could find of the various documents kept in your boxes pertaining to that episode in Grandma’s life. Additionally, I had used this material to make searches on the internet of many subjects related to this. Also, you may remember, I left with you a memoir of the former Administrator and, later, Governor of the Leeward Islands, Sir Reginald St. Johnston, which included, among its chapters, matters about his commission in St Kitts and Nevis during the period Grandma and your father, Dr George Gomez, were living in those islands. So prepared, I immediately found several subjects in Basseterre that had come to my earlier attentions. One, the old ‘Treasury’ building – it appears in an interesting snap of a large patriotic group that includes Grandma and various dignitaries – was just across the road from my hotel! Over my time there I went on to find many more subjects that had been some part in my grand-parents’ lives. I have taken many photographs of them. ‘Stonehaven’, your home in St Kitts, was near the village of Molineux, on the central northern coast - more on this later. The grave of Dr Gomez and Audrey Gomez, was high on my search-list. It stands close to the center of Springfield Cemetery in Basseterre and was easily spotted from 100 yards, so distinct is the form of its tall, light-grey headstone. On close inspection, I found that a Glasgow firm, Gray & Co., had been responsible for its creation. Obviously, the headstone had been shipped across the Atlantic, suggesting to me that Grandma may never have seen it on site. Her memory of the grave would have been of the carpet of flowers left by a great many mourners. The stone’s lengthy leaden text showed signs of small collisions made, no doubt, by the catapulted debris of over eighty years of tropical tempest. Though the large, capitalized “GOMEZ” at its base was as clear as ever, its lead-infill letters had vanished. Just up the hill from this large block is Government House, where the doctor played tennis, no doubt, and Grandma attended meetings to do with things like the founding of the Girl Guides for the island. By the way, St. Johnston was a doctor himself, so it is quite likely he often sought the company of your father and his medical colleagues, the population of St Kitts being very small. Numerous newspaper announcements declaring the governor was “At Home” at certain hours suggests there would have been many opportunities for social exchanges with the regal representative. A letter written by Dr Gomez to Grandma when she had returned to Scotland in the autumn of 1927 to show her two children, Effie and Joe, to her parents in Clydebank, though posted from the Nevis address, clearly indicates that the doctor certainly played tennis at such a place. Also adjacent to the cemetery is the site of the former Cunningham Hospital, where your father was rushed to following the sudden onset of his subsequently fatal condition, dying there on the fourth day. Undoubtedly, he must have worked there as well as in other places, such as Stonehaven, which is the name given to the former estate around ‘Stonehaven’, the former residence of the planter. This residence is still leased to doctors, by the way. By chance, when I was shown it, the current medical officer emerged, about to leave on some errand. He was quite fascinated by what I had to say and show about the residence, and he encouraged the two of us to wanderer about, taking photographs. The old stone building needed a lot of attention to its outside. The doctor told us that he had had to replace the roof, so at least that was properly covered with a corrugated cover. Timberwork rot here and there, and long vines and other vegetation covered much of the walls. Zack, my guide for this day, saw it as a sign of poor management. The abundant fruit of various trees had been left unharvested, covering the fertile ground with rotting matter – an inexcusable waste as far as Zack was concerned. He reminded me that many poor people living about would have gladly made good use of it – he picked some oranges himself. Typically, a pair of enormous mango trees formed part of the small orchard next to the building. I recalled Grandma telling me her story about the locals being allowed to shake the tree to collect food. These trees were so big that it could hardly be possible to shake their trunks. Perhaps they included the very tree she spoke of so long ago. The back of the house was particularly decrepit, like a scene from Kipling’s jungle stories of ruined palaces of old. We had been told by the doctor - and surely it was the case - that the interior was in good order; I can’t imagine he wished to live in squalor, but it was impossible to peek through any window such was the confusion outside. A verandah was filled with various boxes, all higgledy-piggledy. The wall facing the distant Atlantic Ocean was quite high. At its base were cellar doors. This was a typical arrangement in the islands and supported Grandma’s claim that the locals sought protection in her house from tempests. About the place, numerous smaller and much more fragile timber dwellings - called chattel houses, I was told later in my trip - attested to the poverty and needs of the locals. In Grandma’s time, even these humble buildings, the size of an ordinary room in any Australian home, would have had thatched roofs, prone to instantaneous destruction in any hurricane. Returning to the Cunningham Hospital: this site had been transformed just after Uncle Joe’s visit in 1979, at which time he had seen another sad reminder of island impoverishment. A fire had gutted some of it. This may account for his disappointed judgement that the “front was too dilapidated to take” a photo. Today, it is a very nice-looking collection of institutions: a public library, a high school and a college. Had he seen it as I did, his opinion would have been quite different, I am sure. I used the library myself on two occasions. In the Government Headquarters building, I was given volumes of newspapers to study in which I found numerous articles that included references to the doctor, and several additional articles mentioning Grandma such as reviews of charity-concerts – with lists of songs - and articles on the newly formed Girl Guides. The material I found leaves no doubt that the doctor’s death was a huge blow to the island. With his demise, the islands lost their only surgeon. Additionally, it is clear that he was held in considerable esteem by a great many in St Kitts and nearby Nevis. He was considered a generous and excellent physician to all, especially the many poor. His funeral was a very big event indeed for that place. Because of his services as a soldier in the recent Great War, his funeral included some military references. Additionally, masonic elements formed part of the occasion. I didn’t know he was a freemason. I read many newspapers – editions close to two years in total. In none of these was anyone else allotted anything close to an equivalent column-space, such was the significance of this sad occasion. His illness, death and funeral took place over a week. Each day, some announcement appeared. The fourth day saw his death. This is given a full page. (He was operated-on by the Chief Medical Officer, by the way. This occurred on the second day, during which time Dr. Gomez is reputed to have been sufficiently cognizant to suggest procedures to the other three doctors attending him. I think this might explain the more than likely myth that he had “operated on himself.” Very interestingly, Grandma is included as one of the attending nurses, so she must have been a witness to at least some of the procedures. While on this self-operating point, I found an article in a newspaper Dr Gomez would have received that attested to a Berlin doctor, Dr. Forssmann, having operated on himself. The article was dated March 6, and placed in the April 18, 1931 edition of ‘The St. Kitts-Nevis Daily Bulletin’, less than half a year before the doctor’s death. It was quite an operation that saw the daring medico insert a two-foot tube from his elbow along an opened vein into his heart! Even more remarkably, with this in place, he walked up a flight of stairs to be x-rayed! “Later he was none the worse.” In this time of such daring experimentation, perhaps there is some truth to the claim that my grandfather had indeed “operated on himself.” He was the only surgeon on the island, after all. A lengthy obituary and consequent articles on shortcomings in medical staffing of the islands run for another three days. On other matters, I was shown a “blue book” – so called because of the colour of the paper used in its publication. Blue Books were a compilation of annual medical reports and similar items, all prepared by the islands’ (St. K & N) District Medical Officers. These included articles written by Dr. Gomez. The doctor’s “old chauffeur”, Edmund Matthew, who must have been sixteen when first employed as his driver, became the subject of some of my investigations while looking for ‘Stonehaven’. It transpired that Edmund had lived only a few houses away (if those others were there at the time) from ‘Stonehaven’. His home, now derelict, like so many buildings about the place – usually the result of hurricanes and absent tenants/owners – was still standing, though roofless and becoming dilapidated. There to see was his garage. In the nearby Holy Family Catholic Church’s lawns, close to the church-door, were the graves of the aged driver and his even older wife, Ellen. The graves were so close together – Edmund’s “above” Ellen’s - that they may have even touched, suggesting both the great strength of a former union and the hope of an eternal one. I had been directed to the churchyard by a neighbor who, as a child, referred to the old taxi driver as ‘El mundo’ – the world. This was his nickname, never said to his face; the polite form of address was “Uncle Edmund.” He drove his taxi for as long as he lived, I was told. The dates on the stones were: (Edmund) 2.2.1911 – 12.5.1989, seventy-eight years, and (Ellen) 8.12.1911 – 30.10.2001, eighty-nine years. I had been taken to ‘Stonehaven’ and introduced to this source of local knowledge - a successful grocery-store owner who had only recently expanded his business - by a delightfully eccentric historian, Winston (Zack) Nisbett of Basseterre. As our conversation became increasingly animated, it was revealed that a daughter of Edmund, Beulah Nicholls, was the wife of a proprietor who ran a retail business on the ground-floor of the same building as my hotel! Consequently, on my return later that afternoon, I introduced myself to him and arranged for Beulah to meet me later that evening in the hotel’s bar. We would have a marvelous talk. She was thrilled with the very vague and small photocopies of snaps of her late-father, taken by Uncle Joe back in 1979 when he had returned to the islands to seek his own history there. Her son, Randy, soon joined us, and took photos of my vague facsimiles of his grandfather. Evidently, my little stories of Edmund made very exciting news to both of them. Also at the Government Headquarters Building I was shown by the very efficient and patient Director of Archives there, Victoria O’Flaherty, micro-fiche copies of the registered births of all four children: Euphemia, Joseph, Jessie and Audrey. Curiously, Aunt Effie’s registration is supported by a William Gomez, an engineer of Charlestown, the capital of nearby Nevis. This, presumably, must be the “Uncle Bill” who Grandma identified in a photograph taken in Anguilla (28 June, 1926.) The recorded dates of birth are: 11 Dec, 1925; 14 March, 1927; 8 October, 1928; and 20 February, 1930, respectively. I attempted to obtain copies of birth certificates - and a death certificate of Audrey - from the nearby Health Centre (Connell St, Basseterre), but was fobbed-off by a clearly disinterested young person there claiming records existed only from 1950. Zack was very unimpressed by her attitude and suggested privately to me that it was all too typical of the poor regard so many in the islands have towards history. I should add that some time later in my stay in St Kitts, Zack introduced me to yet another of his countless “friends”, a hopeful candidate seeking office in the island’s next election, whom, when told of the incident, was adamant that this was nonsense. I intend to write to the Health Centre later in the hope something more positive comes of this. It might be helpful if you and Aunt Effie supported the plea. There are likely to be records, but these may well be in a poor state and difficult to source. Returning to William Gomez, the archivist suggested it was probable that William, if indeed an uncle to the children, had encouraged his brother (or cousin?) George Gomez to seek his medical practice in or near Nevis. Of course, it may be the other way around. I had expected to visit Nevis after three days on the bigger St Kitts, but such was my success in finding material in the latter island that I found I delayed the ferry-trip across to that pretty island to my last full day. I was up very early so I could take the first ferry, scheduled for 6am. My hotel being only a few hundred yards away from the pier meant I had the shortest of walks. Though the islands are merely a few miles apart, the distance between Basseterre and Charlestown is eleven miles, I think. The trip lasted fifty-five minutes. Along the straight passage, a spectacular sunrise announced Nevis’s tropical glory, silhouetting, by its glorious rays, the great volcanic form that dominates the landscape. Wonderful clouds drifting across the great orb created their own delightful and ever-changing diffusions. Once ashore, within minutes I found ‘Longstone House’, the temporary residence your parents had taken in Nevis while “waiting for Evelyn Villa”, according to Uncle Joe’s annotation on the back of a snap he had taken of the same building during his visit in October, 1979. I had researched this building some weeks before leaving for overseas, discovering that it was a landmark building in Charlestown. You may be interested to know that it appears to me that its previous residents included the family of Hastings Charles Huggins (1857 – 1923), a colossal figure in fin de siècle Nevis. Huggins was a remarkable fellow – a “mulatto man”, to use the accepted term in the Caribbean to denote mixed race - born into poverty, like so many in the islands, but by his death had accumulated staggering wealth by means of shrewd business-practices. His last residence was this once-fashionable building. Sadly, it has long since lost its glamour. Today, it houses unremarkable commercial businesses. Upstairs, where you would have been housed, is now a dull café. I bought refreshments there then took several photographs, both inside and outside the building, before leaving to look for a Wesleyan Mission church. The term, “Wesleyan Mission”, had been notated by you on the back of a photograph as the place where Uncle Joe had been christened on “Thursday, 31st March 1927”. This small slightly over-exposed snap features your smiling father holding his baby son sitting on his forearm. The pair is accompanied by Grandma, Reverend Fred and Mrs McKenzie Turner, and Mrs Sylvie Brown - your nurse/nanny – who stands next to Nurse Hendrickson. The group appears to be gathered at the bottom of a step in front an elevated entrance, presumably part of the Wesleyan Mission. The Reverend Fred, by the way, who had entered the mission in 1909, is not long for the world. He dies, in harness, the following year. On the next block west of ‘Longstone House’ was what must have been the church. I managed to get some interior shots taken through glass panes. It appeared to me that it may well have changed little in appearance since it was built. Being so close to your parents’ residence must surely have seen it as their church. I wandered about it for some time. As I often observed during my trip, next to this place of worship was what was believed to be the mustering place for the island’s slaves. The singers of hymns suffered the wails of its neighbours. A small, easy-to-miss sign announced this sad history. I had immersed myself in reading-material on the subject of slaves after purchasing several famous books on it while visiting San Francisco’s Museum of African Diaspora, earlier in the trip. One of the points continually made in these studies was the hypocritical actions of the good Christians, whose solemnity papered over their hideous odium. I stopped for breakfast in a modest café just a little along the road, closer to the pier. Attracted to it because inside I had spied an old lady serving behind a small counter, I hoped that someone of her age might have knowledge of the whereabouts of ‘Evelyn Villa’. Recognizing my Western appearance, she suggested I could get bacon and eggs a little up the road, but I replied that I’d prefer what she had on offer as I’d come to sample the local product, a spicy chicken leg and some rice or bread, I forget which. Later, paying my bill, I made my enquiry. She considered the question then suggested I cross the street to a pharmacy where I could find a Mr Evelyn, apparently an old man whose business it was. Sure enough, Mr Evelyn, the pharmacist, was quite old. He was born the same year as the snap, 1927, or perhaps it was a year or two later. He soon became absorbed by my story. ‘Evelyn Villa’ had been his own residence while his wife lived. Following her death, about twenty or so years previously, he had moved out. The building had then been leased to an American artist, but a few years later, with a hurricane ruining his business, the man left, leaving the home empty to this day. The merciless tropical climate took its usual toll, so the once grand mansion lost much of its earlier charm. However, I was welcome to inspect it. It was just up the road, in the direction of the cricket ground, which I had found myself in my earliest meandering. Before leaving, he suggested I visit various museums about the place. It was clear that he had considerable interest in the history of Nevis. I took his advice, spending the day walking all over the place, becoming a little affected by the sun despite wearing my +30 sunscreen and my wide-brimmed cricket hat. Reaching the old home in minutes, I found several workmen outside its big yard. Introducing myself, I discovered I was addressing Mr Evelyn’s brother. Among other things, he told me the old house once claimed an uninterrupted view of the nearby cricket ground – presently, a more contemporary dwelling sat between it and the ground. The name ‘Evelyn’ comes up in historical notes as the name of a planter. It is likely that the villa was once an estate home. As my trip progressed, a pattern formed: my grand-parents’ residences were comfortable homes likely built many years earlier as estate homes. Four days earlier, in St Kitts, I had been taken to dinner by an Australian man and his English wife. Having just stored their yacht in preparation for a return home to Brisbane the next day, they had decided to end their Caribbean sojourn at a very expensive restaurant in the former Ottley Plantation. I had been taxied near there that morning in my first attempt to find ‘Stonehaven’, but declined the driver’s suggestion that I see the old estate - time was getting on and I was already two hours beyond my schedule. Looking through the window as we passed it there, high up in the hills, I wondered if I had made a mistake as parts of its architecture reminded me of what I could barely discern from Uncle Joe’s snaps of ‘Stonehaven’, though, obviously, it was without the latter’s more modest scale. So, given this second opportunity, I heartily accepted the invitation from the couple when it was offered over drinks on the balcony back at ‘Seaview Inn’. Its beautifully gardened grounds were stunning. The three of us were rendered speechless as we slowly walked across wide, manicured lawns edged with spectacularly arranged tropical plants. Dusk’s pink heaven appeared through screens of huge trees usually found in aged botanical gardens. The air was perfumed. An avenue of tall coconut palms of great age took our gaze deep into the hills beyond. Re-modeled and renovated buildings also re-announced, for those who could hear, the glory of the former plantocracy, but behind their elegance and splendor crept the shameful shadow of slavery. Returning to the subject of Nevis, my pedestrian journey took me to several other places certainly part of my grandparents’ world. These included Government House, the nearby hot bath house and Alexandra Hospital. The governor’s residence was high up on a hill. It was here that the doctor definitely played tennis and, I assume, did a lot more. Nevis’s population during the mid to late ‘20s was a lot less than that of its neighbour so social life must have been particularly predictable and limited, I should think. I took the customary snaps. The nearby Nelson Museum was a little disappointing, but the small display must have been the best that could be cobbled together within the meager budget allotted by the Tourism Ministry. Also a short walk away was the famous hot spring and its remarkable bath-house. Apparently, this had been developed as part of the Caribbean’s first hotel, which is saying something given the age of the former colonies. The old bath-house, which must have been used by your family – it was not far away from ‘Longstone House’ and even closer to ‘Evelyn Villa’ – must have been quite an experience when it was maintained, but now it had become poor relic, a curious ruin of former grand times. Fortunately, a nearby modern pool is available for use. The water was quite hot indeed. I can’t imagine I could have stayed in it for very long at all. If I understood the geography and history of the place, the spring released as a narrow stream into the sea not far away, providing water for Drake, Raleigh, Nelson and so on. I followed it to its very small mouth, which opened at the head of a post-card beach. Not a soul was there. I found myself romanticizing about those Tudor explorers and other pirates, and Horatio, R.N., all of whom must have stood on the very spot. The climb to Alexandra Hospital, which I made when the sun was at its zenith, was rewarded with the knowledge that my grandfather had once been the District Medical Officer in charge of this important institution. It has changed, of course, but the old Georgian architectural forms still revealed themselves. I had hoped to get information about his residency there, but had to do with being given a name and an e-mail address. Something may yet come of this. I returned on that day’s penultimate ferry-ride to St Kitts, satisfied that I had covered even more than I could have hoped for. Tom Bannerman at Springfield Cemetery next to the Cunningham Hospital, Basseterre, St Kitts- 2014 See also: GEORGE ROBERT GOMEZ DR.GEORGE GOMEZ - PHOTOS

My father, Andrew Sheppard, was an early riser. In those quiet morning hours with his first cup of coffee he often expressed his thoughts and wrote about his memories of growing up in Trinidad. I have transcribed his writings to preserve for our family history. Valerie Sheppard