My earliest encounter with Charlton was not a happy one, but I held myself far more responsible for my sorrow that day than I could blame him!

I was almost seven and had just moved down to Big School/ or Bottom School, having ‘graduated’ from the basic school, which naturally was also known as Top School.

So, I was feeling all grown up, having achieved that important milestone. Furthermore, my parents had now entrusted to me an additional responsibility – to walk my ‘little sister’, Lorna, three years younger than me, to basic school, before making my way down the hill to the primary school.

I couldn’t have been prouder! I was the big brother and I was going to show her how it was done!

But, in my innocence, I made one crucial mistake: as her protector, I should have had her on the inside. Instead, I had her by my right hand, leaving her exposed to the traffic.

And then it happened: there was a roar behind us, and looking back I beheld him. Yes, it was Charlton, perched proudly on his Honda 50, looking straight ahead.

And just as he passed us, one of the wheels of the bike just about grazed one of her toes! It was such a light touch that he did not even realize what had happened as he zoomed away into the distance.

But, for a three year-old, that little touch was the stuff of which hysterics are made! Her crying was nothing compared to mine, however, as I took full responsibility for the mishap, blaming myself over and over for what had happened.I was inconsolable!

It was many years later that I told him of the incident, tears having long dried up, affording us the opportunity to chuckle at a moment of innocent childhood.

By then, of course, his own journey had taken him a long way towards fulfilling his life’s mission, as loving son, brother, husband, father, grandfather, friend of many, provider, and builder extraordinaire.

But, how did this journey begin?

He was born Charlton Errington James, on July 19, 1949 to Viola and Cyril James. Of course, throughout the community we knew them simply as Miss Vie and Maas Cyril, and, in his case, Cap’n C.

Those were the days when families in these parts were huge, when it seemed almost every household could field its own cricket team, and so (as was the case with my parents) Miss Vie and Maas Cyril had eleven children, Charlton being number three. Regrettably, however, two of them died very early in life. Cecil, another sibling, passed away 15 years ago as well.

Charlton was in that last generation of children who attended the Sandy Bank Elementary School, situated then where the basic school was later established.

Outside of school, there was the serious matter of having fun, and in those days, having fun was largely innocent, spending time on the beach at Calabash Bay and disappearing among the mountains of sand dunes at Old Wharf, picking juicy sea grapes and returning covered from head to toe with the evidence of these childhood escapades.

Charlton and his siblings were, however, not simply left to their own devices without the strong guiding hands of their parents. His father was a founding member of this very church, and when the original structure was being built, he and other children who were old enough played their part in process, carrying stones and other items that were used in the construction.

Childhood eventually gave way to the teenage years, and then it was time to consider what livelihood he would pursue. Well, he didn’t have to look very far. In those days, if you were a young man, it seemed you either became a fisherman or part of the building trade. Rather than fishing, Charlton had developed an interest in the building trade, and carpentry, in particular. It did not take long for the matter to be settled; he was taken on as an apprentice by Maas Radford and Maas Berris.

So, having decided how he was going to make a living, it was now time for him to set about making a life, for which, of course, he needed to find a wife!

And it came to pass that as he cast his eyes about, it suddenly dawned on him that the answer to his quest had been there all along! Just a stone’s throw away at Calabash Bay was the young Theresa Gordon, now transformed from girl in pony tails to blossoming womanhood.

Before long he had made his desires known to her; and the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea as well!

But that was hardly an end of the matter, because there was somebody else to consider, and winning him over was not going to be easy! Yes, it was her father, Maas Willard, popularly known as South, and as far as he was concerned, young Charlton would have been well advised to keep as far to the north as possible!

So, with their meetings in Calabash Bay becoming hazardous, imagine his joy therefore when she went to spend some time in Lewis Town with her grandmother! Surely, he reasoned, the old lady would not be as alert as her father, and perhaps she might even be a bit sympathetic.

So imagine his shock and dismay therefore when, one night, as he carefully made his way towards the house, Ma Hettie, defying the constraints of advancing years, sprang into action, broom in hand!

Shocked beyond belief, he took flight, but unfortunately, when he landed, it was at the bottom of a pit!

Bruised and sore, he might have been tempted to give up, had it not been for the power of love, and (with due apologies to Marley), one good thing about young love, when it hits you, you feel no pain!

So, over time, and against the odds, the young couple prevailed. Their union produced three children. First, there was Khanai; then came Zaidie, and then O’Neil; and now there are six grandchildren, as one generation produces the next.

It was a partnership that stood the test of time, much of that time spent in the house they built right next to his parents, on their request. They specifically wanted this son to be as close to them as possible, even as he devoted time to bringing up his own family.

Theresa is now able to look back at a lifetime of love, and friendship, and partnership. She was right there with him in his various ventures, including time spent on the road selling fish, and operating a grocery shop, or just enjoying his jokes, and his zest for life.

And she ensured that he was always sharply dressed, and that the seams of his pants were as sharp!

He had many nicknames, but the one that stuck the most was Laro, borrowed from his favourite singer.

And so when his many friends gathered to mourn his passing and reminisce on his life, they were almost at one, wondering how they would now manage without Laro.

But manage they will have to do, because his days were numbered, and so are theirs, and ours.

Now, let’s take this matter of our numbered days literally: Charlton arrived in 1949 and made his departure in 2015; his 66th year. In round numbers, that’s approximately 24 thousand days.
Looked at from that perspective, perhaps we might get a greater appreciation for the gift that each day represents, and the legacy that we might be able to leave, if we use each day wisely.

As we’ve discovered, Charlton gave joy to his parents from his first day and to his siblings as they grew up in the loving and nurturing environment of the home. Then, as a professional builder, he has left behind numerous reminders that he once lived among us and made a difference in our lives.

And so, decades from now, just like we might say of Mass Radford, and Maas Berris, and our own Pastor Gayle, and many other builders, we will be able to say of Charlton, this was his handiwork; this was where he made his mark.

Above all, however, may we all be able to say of him, that by the life he lived, he made each day count.


Earl Moxam
Treasure Beach Pentecostal Church
March 14 2015