Gone, but not forgotten, is the focus of my feature this week. I cannot recall ever being so challenged on the need to make a long story short. Hence, this has to be part one of a two-part article.

Sandra Stowe, a well-known City of Hamilton beautician, cosmetologist, or whatever they call her professional type, is a central personality.

She was completely overwhelmed by my urge to pay tribute to her late mother and grandmother, Emma Isabelle Stowe and Alice Louise Fox, elites of the late 19th and 20th centuries.

Simultaneously, Sandra wished to salute and embrace her siblings: Randolph, Rosalyn, Michael, James and Leslie (Dyab Sufuddin).

Back in the day (one had the choice of calling them the good old days or, according to how they pertained, the bad old days of Bermuda), we had to use outdoor toilets. We took our Saturday baths in draughty sheds using galvanised tubs, we washed clothes in the same tub — in water dipped from a tank in the yard.

We attended one-room schools with 40 or 50 in a class. Those fortunate to be living near the rocks would be guaranteed a quick swim. They would then rush home, where they were given a shower with a bucket of cold water before they hastened to church on Sunday morning and Sunday school in the afternoon.

The barbers and beauticians were the big shots, the kingpins, the number one influencers. They played their parts significantly in that era. Many ended up having buildings, or something else, named after them: the Dame Marjorie Beans, beautician Ida J Smith and the great Sally Bassett.

Sandra’s grands went all out to see that “she had it made”. They ensured she cultivated good speech and was groomed as a first-class beautician. Unmarried, she gave birth to a daughter and seemingly became an ultraconservative; a God-fearing lady, a businesswoman committed to putting her daughter through college and developing a splendid homestead.

It was on my own initiative that I undertook to make the foregoing deductions about Sandra Stowe, doing so at the risk of her wanting to slay me or fuddling the relationship I have had with her favourite aunt, Joan Marie Moore. The latter’s mother, Sarah Paynter, was one of Emma’s best friends back in the day.

Such was the connection which enabled me to be one of the select group hosted by Sandra at a New Year’s Day luncheon. Others in the special group were St David’s Islander Dolly Pitcher, 83, and Ann Smith, who will soon be 80. There was LeFroy Brownlow Place, better known as “Brownie”, who will be 100 in a matter of months, and June R Hall, who is approaching her eighties.

Sandra related how Canon Thomas Nisbett as a young boy used to be in and out of her mother’s residence near St Monica’s Mission. He was invited to the lunch, but had to cancel on account of the death that weekend of his brother Ifor.

Graciously, Sandra ushered me into her archives. After viewing some of the priceless artifacts collected over the centuries by her grands, I accessed a profile on her mother Emma, which was most revealing.

A few words described the legacy of Emma Isabelle Stowe: her distinctive mannerism, infectious smile and impeccable memory. Born August 15, 1920, her parents were John and Alice Fox. She attended Neverson’s School and later, Central School. She was an avid reader, brilliant writer and articulate speaker. She had an extensive vocabulary, due partially to the countless word search puzzles she solved on a regular basis.

Emma trained her daughter to be a gourmet cook, like herself. She worked at La Caravelle on East Broadway, at Horizons and in Tucker’s Town. She always had a good rapport with her colleagues and bosses. One boss wanted to finance her studies at culinary school in Paris, France.

She loved the Lord and was a member of the women’s ministry Aglow International and the Salvation Army’s Home League. She often shared fond memories of her devotional times and travel with group members.

Emma had fond memories of growing up behind St Monica’s Mission with her brothers and sisters. She met William Arthur Stowe and they married on July 23, 1942 at St John’s Church. Twins were the first of their eight children.

Never one to sit back and relax, she eagerly relieved her sisters and brother of their cooking duties, exchanging their traditional recipes.

Sandra’s mother was the life of the party. She especially loved to entertain at Easter and Christmas or to do what was called just a “drop-in”.

She was the ultimate hostess of the family and was noted for creating a meal from “thin air”, leaving others desiring more.

According to her profile, one thing to be guaranteed was that her guests would not be eating off plastic plates. She liked only the best fine china. Similarly, her food had to be made using only the finest ingredients, and be well seasoned.

Outside of the kitchen Emma was classy and refined. In fact, she was high-class. Her stilettos matched the hat and purse; there were never any flies on Granny Emma, the profile noted.

When she arrived on the scene she enquired of friends: “How do you like me now?” The question was accompanied by a pose that would put any supermodel to shame. She was a talker, always greeting friends with, “Hello sweetie, darling, precious”, or some other endearing term that popped into her head.

After a brief confinement in hospital, Emma passed away on December 13, 2008. In part two of this feature, yours truly will attempt to relate how Sandra and her daughter Makeba attempted to spoil the select guests.