Author Archives: Bsingh

Dear Daddy, My first memory of you is a time when you came to visit us in Trinidad after you had moved to New York.  There were smells of chicken and roti, rice, beans, and bottles of Solo waiting for you.  You entered through the front door like a celebrity, much better dressed than aContinue reading “Daddy’s 85th Birthday”

In honor of Mother’s Day I thought it would be appropriate to share some of the pearls of wisdom that have fallen out of my mouth raising my children. We are a sharing family NO Stop licking the fish tank You can’t pick homework to give up for lent Go ahead, punch your sister OneContinue reading “Momisms”

Queens Village in the 1970’s was an idyllic place to grow up.  When my sisters and I arrived in 1974 it was an entirely new world for us.  Housing developments were an enigma because who would want a house that looked exactly like their neighbors? We were too young and unsophisticated to comprehend the costContinue reading “Pet Rocks for Sale”

Awkward, shy and pimply; I had one saving grace – academics.  Mr. Marcus returned my test paper – 95, well done!  Nadine commented loudly from three rows away, “I don’t know why she got two points higher than me.” A Cheshire cat grin pointed my way just to show she was kidding. Many tests hadContinue reading “Nadine”

Monday’s child is fair of face and, she is; when the nurses brought her to me they told me she was the prettiest baby in the nursery. But she wasn’t the quietest. She started screaming early and often. The babysitter christened her “Screaming Mimi” and said she would only stop screaming to sleep and eat.Continue reading “Monday’s Child”

She was born at 30 weeks and weighed 4 pounds.  We were so careful with her but she found her way into the dirt and ate snails and car wax while we were not looking. When she was two, her aunt bought her a purple velvet and taffeta dress with satin ribbons.  She twirled andContinue reading “Because you asked…”

Dear Mother, My first memory of you is the two of us sitting in the hammock downstairs in our house in Trinidad.  We have just finished breakfast of roti soaked in milk and all the other kids are sent off to be indoctrinated at McBean Presbyterian School.  It is late morning and we rock slowly,Continue reading “On Your Birthday 2/4”

“Why can’t you be more like Mr. Hernandez?” My mother quipped to my father as he indolently spent another Saturday afternoonlying across the sofa watching a boxing match. George Forman was attempting to wrest the title yet again from Mohammad Ali. After the match was over Daddy yelled for one of his seven children toContinue reading “Mr. Hernandez”

Our large brick and cement house in Trinidad was set up with the kitchen downstairs and a huge, almost empty, space punctuated only by a burlap hammock suspended from the ceiling and anchored by rocks tied to either side. It hung just outside of the kitchen and served as our downstairs furniture. Our main livingContinue reading “Christmas Blessings”

The history of my family goes back to India.  No one knows for sure from where in India we originated.  My maternal grandfather (whom we called Nana) indicated that his family originated in Kasmir.  However there has also been speculation that the Hindi spoken by that branch of the family indicates that we came fromContinue reading “The Beginning”