On a beautiful sunny day in July 1988, I sat with my great-aunt, Edith Burgess, as she recalled a church picnic held in 1903. She was 96 at the time and blessed with the remarkable gift of recall. It ...
On the eve of the holiday to commemorate our emancipation, the government of the day dipped its pen into the inkwell of callous arrogance and removed with one stroke 152 years of Black history. West E...
Thirty-three years ago I began interviewing seniors on Cup March, one of the foremost events of our Bermudian heritage. Their memories ranged over the years leading up to the 1930s.
Much has been writ...
