Dear Sir,

I write to you once more with a story I consider worth reading. Never assume everything is black or white, or judge a book by its cover.

Yesterday (June 29, 2022), I attended the funeral of Keith Clarence McDonald Gordon, the second-eldest son of National Hero Edgar Fitzgerald Gordon.

While in church, I was taken aback by the history of Keith from the minister doing the preaching — also from his friends, and from his siblings, Pamela and Patricia, neither of whom need any introduction. They are well known in their own right.

Keith attended both the Central School and the Berkeley Institute. He grew up at Beulah, the family homestead, on Victoria Street, with many of his cousins and neighbourhood friends.

He was known as Turtle as well as Gordy. He was also recognised for his bright mind and wit. I could attest to that — he was indeed quick with the words.

One could not help but laugh with him on many occasions. Keith was a keen footballer and cricketer. A married man with children, he held various jobs throughout Hamilton in his earlier days — starting with delivering the local newspaper, The Royal Gazette, may I add.

He was also a truck driver, insurance agent and worked for the Department of Works and Engineering, where he received a commendation for his contribution during the aftermath of Hurricane Fabian in 2003.

But, no surprise to many, including his family, Keith chose a different approach to working life and found his own way to sustain life going forward. His passion was to make people laugh, and he could be seen daily around the King Street area doing just that.

His only competition in this arena was Johnny Barnes, whom he gave a run for his money. He became a friend to many along his path of life.

His many friends, business owners in and around Hamilton, spoke of his wit and the ability to make people smile and laugh, especially the ladies around town. A true character for sure.

He even had a passion for the arts, with his painting of Malcolm X, which gave his nephew a similar feeling for art and has led him to do portraits.

Keith also had a talent for singing — not just in the shower like the rest of us. Keith appeared at many talent shows way back when, participating at the old Rosebank Theatre. He could give a mean rendition of My Way, a Frank Sinatra speciality.

Keith was his own little man. His family and friends could recall Keith giving a reflective description of why he often talked to himself. He declared that he was the only intelligent person he knew!

His life was very different from most, even with the many trials and tribulations he endured, fully acknowledged and endorsed. It was a life worth celebrating.

But, in saying all that I have, Keith didn’t deserve to depart from this earth in such a violent manner. No one needs to leave that way.

I know one thing: Keith and I may have walked on different sides of a street, but when we met, we were always equal in stature. And in my heart I know I’m a better man for having known Keith Clarence McDonald Gordon.

He is a miss to many already, including me, those around Hamilton and many beyond. Keith, my friend, rest in peace. God bless.

H. GORDY GIBBONS

Paget