I was asked to make available on the website, the Eulogy that I did for for Miss Dor. I sincerely hope that my doing so does not come across as a bit of self-indulgence on my part, for that was not the intention. - em



MISS DOR



January 9, 1936. A very special Thursday it was for Stafford and Marieta Ebanks; for with a piercing cry from infant lungs, sprang forth into their lives a beautiful baby girl!

They named her Doreth Zetula, but soon she was to be known as Prit.

There are two reasons given for this new name: Some had it that, as an infant, she struggled to pronounce the word, 'pretty', managing only to come up with a shortened version, 'prit'.

That sounds like a credible enough explanation.
But, the most precious person in her life maintains that it was because she was so pretty; all who knew her just had to let her know how they felt!

For the purposes of a good romance, I will accept his version, because, after all that's the stuff of which true love is made!

But, let us go back to the beginning. Young Doreth grew up during the toughest of days.

These were the war years, and times were hard. Almost everything was scarce and most families were desperately poor.

But they hardly knew; they were too busy getting by; the men putting out to sea in small canoes powered by sails and oars which strained their every muscle.

When not on the sea they could be found tilling the ground on modest plots. Or walking a hundred miles to Kingston and then back, having sold their fowls for a few precious coins.

Young Doreth learned early too the value of hard work and thrift, traveling with her grandmother, Edith, to the seaside to sell roasted coffee.
Coffee so tasty, people came from miles to savour and to sip.

It was on one of these working trips to the beach that she came close to an early death.
Suddenly, as she sat under a tree, it came crashing down on the young girl, hitting her in the back, causing her tremendous anguish and pain.

Still, she prevailed, recovering to resume her duties at the side of her beloved grandmother.
There were lessons aplenty here for young Doreth and her peers.

Not least of these was the value of hard work and honest dealings.

Not for them the easy way out… Not for them the envy and greed which afflict too many today.

Nor were they moved by such thoughts as the moronic bleatings we hear today, entreating the young to get rich, at any cost, or die trying!
Even if it means betraying everything your ancestors stood for and the traditions that this community represents!

Those were the days when "Love thy Neighbour" meant more than pious mouthings on Sunday mornings.

With lessons such as these, young Doreth grew day by day.

And pretty soon she began to bloom, and to be seen in a new and different light!
So, it was no surprise when a dashing young man caught her in his line of sight!

She was beautiful to behold, and by all accounts, young Alfred James was not bad to look at either!

The young couple quickly wed; and set out on a lifelong journey.

This journey lasted 54 years, with many highlights along the way.

Not least of these were four precious births: First came Marjorie, then Sonia, Marcia and finally, Mark.

Stepson, Leroy, was also touched by her love, as this was her true nature.

They still recall the closeness of their mother, a confidante to each, whose deepest secrets she would keep, giving advice where she could, or seeking solutions where they struggled on their own.

She found time as well to rear her sister, Vivie; and to devote almost as much of herself to another sister, Leta, and to be a true 'big sister' to all her other siblings.

Those with us can attest to that nurturing quality: Hambert, Lawrence, McConie, Leta, Vivie, and Nola (plus the absent Ralph, Milda and Grace).

Miss Dor learned well her early lessons of hard work and thrift.

And so, even as her young brood grew, she found time for work outside the home.

Her first paying job was at 'Folichon', one of the earliest guesthouses in Treasure Beach.

Then there was Miss Dor, the shopkeeper! Cornmeal, flour, saltfish dried and pigstail cured! She had them all and more!

She was sharp and knew just whom she had allowed a 'trus'!

But she was also kind of heart and would not let the poorest among them go, empty-handed.

As for us, the children, remember those Christmas balloons and sodas of all flavours?
Who remembers waking her up, at the crack of dawn, empty bottles in hand, demanding that she come quickly to make a fair exchange?

All the while, Paapa, her husband was working his way up as a driver.

I still recall him sitting straight up in that milk truck, delivering on behalf of Ol' James.
And, for the lucky passenger, the extra seat on the truck provided one of the few means out of the village then to the doctor in Santa Cruz, or Mandeville.

Then came his days on the bus; first as a driver for hire, then as a 'true-blue' owner of one!
It was then that his partnership with 'Ol' Prit', became most evident: He, the proud driver of his own bus/ She, the collector of the fare.

He trumpeted his love for her by naming that big Leyland bus, 'Dor's Transport', right there on the sides!

And Monday to Saturday, you could set your clock by its horn.

Setting out from Sandy Bank, it was first, down the road to Big ‘Cacia’ (acacia) Tree in Frenchman, then on to Newell with students aplenty to deliver, then up the hill, higher and higher it went, horn blaring to herald its coming…

Flagaman, Southfield, Junction, Bull Savannah too, then a winding road into Alligator Pond for a rest; as if gathering strength for what was next.

For next was that big Plowden hill, and on into Mandeville.

Many were the days when, after a long and dreary trek from Kingston, you would finally arrive in Mandeville, tired and yearning for home.

But then you would glimpse the bright colours of that familiar bus and it would put you in a different mood.

A comforting feeling it was, almost as if you were already there; for on the steps to greet you, without fail, would be Miss Dor!

Her greeting was usually something memorable; spiced with humour and great wit!

Yes, humour was her forte! She did it, seemingly, with effortless ease! Often with the straightest of face!

Even when she was upset and issuing a reprimand, it was funny, although she might not have intended it to be so!

Sometimes, Paapa himself felt the sharp end of her tongue, but it was done with such unique skills that, as he readily confesses, he could not stay angry for long. There was always a funny side to it!

My immediate family had a great vantage point from which to appreciate Miss Dor and Paapa as neighbours.

They were our friends! His respect for my father, Carl (whom he called, Moodie), was clearly evident and it was returned in equal measure.

My mother, Ol' Maze (Mazie), and Miss Dor deeply cared for each other and for each other's children.

And many were their visits with each other, and their trips to church, and to farewells such as this.

This time, painfully, one is saying the farewell to the other.

It was, therefore, a sad parting for both families, when, in 1991, Paapa and Miss Dor left for Canada to be with their children.

Many were the expressions of sorrow at this parting, and great were the reunions when they returned for extended visits.

And, even with the advancing years, Miss Dor continued her industrious ways, working at various jobs in the cold, cold North.

And there she continued making new friends… friends, who today, are mourning with us, who send their love and respect for one so dear.

So then, how do we part with Miss Dor? How can we say goodbye? Do we have to say goodbye?

After all, she will live on, in our memories and in our thoughts.

Remember that we are but an extension of those who have gone before - our parents and grandparents, and their parents too.

And we will live on in and through our children… and their children.

We best honour the departed and their memories by living as they would have us do: with love, integrity and dignity, remembering that by doing so we are keeping a part of them alive and shining.

So, shine on, Miss Dor! We loved you then. WE LOVE YOU STILL!

(Treasure Beach Pentecostal Church, Saturday, December 30, 2006)

I would like to share my deepest sympathy on the passing away of my aunty Doreth James. Growing up as a teenager I would hear my Grandmother Marieta spoke about her, I did not really have a chance to know her. But I know one thing for sure she is only resting in the lords arm.

Some serious thoughts there about changing values in the community, in addition to the good things said about Miss Dor.
Hope the young people will take note.

Still remember dem bus rides!

Where in Treasure Beach is The Pentecostal Church Located?

A few chains up from Sandy Bank, in a section of the community, called Lennonwood.
It's right across from the home of Winston and Doris Reynolds (if you are familiar with that couple).

I remember Maas Alfred and that milk truck. Long time ago, but it sure brings back memories. Pity it took the death of Miss Dor to remind us of so many good things about the past.

FYI: There are a couple pictures in the Photo Gallery.

These photos have been removed

-TBNet

may the all forgiving ,all merciful ,all compassionate ALLAH bless and keep you till the great day of recogning .for me having the privilege of growing up around mr and mrs james was much more than the bus ride and such things ,as far as i can remember they were two of the most kind and thoughtful people in the community .may ALLAH bless there family and grant miss dor a place in JEN-NAAH.

Would love to see a few pictures of her when she was younger and vibrant.
Those would go well alongside these two that came towards the end.

Does anyone know who submitted those photos of my mom and dad that is being posted?

HI SONIA, IF THE PHOTO'S I HAVE POSTED IS NOT APPROPRIATE PLEASE SAY SO AND I'LL HAVE THEM REMOVED IMMEDIATELY .

Hi,

Thanks for removing those photos, much appreciated. Will try and post appropriate ones when possible.