When I read the news about the passing of trailblazer and National Hero Sybil McLaughlin, MBE, the first Speaker of the House, and our last surviving vestryman, Arley James Miller, I began to think of extraordinary people I have personally known who have recently died.
Therefore, my column this week is all about celebrating lives of those I was fortunate enough to encounter, and (hopefully) made me a better human being.
Let’s start with ‘Uncle’ Bill McTaggart. For those of you who didn’t know him, take my word for it when I say there were few more gregarious walking the face of the Earth. He embraced my family when we moved to Grand Cayman in 1975 – a kindness my parents never forgot.
We were three young kids, ages 6 and under, with another one born two months after we arrived. There was no Internet (imagine, children) and finding the Cayman Islands in an atlas was a bit of a treasure hunt. It only occurred to me later in life what a big move this was for Mum and Dad, but it definitely ended up being a risk worth taking.
I don’t know how they met Bill, but Dad always said that people like him made our welcome to the island a very warm one. Of course, as a child, I had no idea of this man’s business prowess and that he built Uncle Bill’s Home Improvement Centre from a cottage industry in 1964 to the successful company we recognise today, located on Eastern Avenue. In fact, my first introduction to him was probably when he was Santa Claus, throwing out candy to everyone at Christmas. No surprise that he enjoyed being Jolly Old Saint Nick, because he was like that, with or without the suit.
However, I really became aware of him when I made my debut as Dorothy in ‘The Wizard of Oz’ at the Inn Theatre in the old Royal Palms Hotel. I was 11 years old and, with my mother playing Glinda and my brother Dominic and sister Gabrielle performing as residents of Munchkinland, it was quite the family affair. Bill was a huge fan of the film and was one of our biggest supporters as an audience member. After that, I was forever Dorothy to him.
“Hey Dorothy! How are ya?” he’d greet me with a smile when I was in his store, or if I bumped into him somewhere. Often those around me wondered why he had my name wrong. Whenever I explained the background, they always thought it was a lovely story. Even as an adult, I probably would have been hurt if he’d called me anything else.
Bill’s personality never changed over the years, and little did I know how much he loved singing. I should have guessed, as his family members definitely have music running in their veins. I was delighted when he’d show up to my karaoke nights at the Hard Rock Cafe, back in the day, and later at Fidel Murphy’s. The man was well into his 80s, yet he’d get up on that stage and sing some of his favourite numbers, I’d swear doing a bit of a jig at times. Patrons loved him, and applauded with gusto every time.
If you knew Bill, you were the lucky one.
Speaking first about Bill allows me to segue to the next unforgettable character we’ve lost: Graham Thompson. Why is it a good segue? Because when Bill was Santa, Graham was dressed up as a clown at the same time, entertaining young and old in the festive season. They wouldn’t just do the one event – they’d visit The Pines, the hospital and the Sister Islands.
Graham was another person whom my parents befriended in our early years here, but I didn’t really know him until I was older. They spoke of stage productions in which they were all involved, and what an amazing sense of humour Graham had. Beyond dabbling in theatre, Graham was also a shrewd businessman. Did you know that he bought and ran what was then called The Pub in Owen Roberts International Airport in 1963? Or that he started Island Taste in 1975? The patties, the classic local food, the original two-storey restaurant in town that overlooked the harbour… I loved that place. One of the breeziest spots on the island. The decor featured a lot of recycled and natural items. I remember his son Ken telling me about the coconut shells they’d use with the menus, but they could barely keep up with guests… ‘acquiring’ them. They were ‘souvenirs’ too good to pass up.
Graham loved food, drink and socialising, and had boundless energy, which is why starting his resort – Graham’s Place in Guanaja, Honduras – 23 years ago, made perfect sense. He bought an 8-acre islet, and transformed it from a spit of land into a vacation oasis that attracted windsurfers, divers and fishing enthusiasts from all over the world. It was when I visited Graham’s Place with best friend Lynne and my parents about five years ago that I found myself in awe of what the man had accomplished.
Four individual huts with hammocks, a three-storey hotel, and a separate two-storey dwelling looked out to homemade thatch-umbrella-shaded permanent tables and seats, sitting in the sea. The lights that marked the path from the outdoor bar and restaurant (positioned over the water), were fashioned from recycled materials. The outdoor shower head was a queen conch shell, and the large main cabana was an old, huge satellite dish, painted all the colours of the rainbow. Things that washed up on the shore were never discarded – they were simply re-purposed. Graham was part of the eco-movement before it became really hip.
No matter where we looked, there were colourful, unique decorations or handmade furnishings, paving stones and containers.
What was especially boggling was that at the ripe old age of 80, Graham had more verve than all of us put together. He would spend the evenings with us at the bar, chatting and enjoying some cold ones until the wee hours. Then, the next day, as we dragged ourselves from our beds a bit groggy in the mid-morning, we’d come out to find Graham feeding the two massive pelicans that came to visit him each day. He’d already been up for hours, pottering around the resort, checking on his private sea aquarium, having breakfast, and perhaps picking up the latest guests from Guanaja airport on his boat.
Morning!” he’d yell, chucking some fish to one of the birds’ gaping maws.
Coffee. We needed coffee.
After a long weekend at Graham’s Place, I felt truly inspired by the man. I was determined to make my own conch shell shower and get more creative. I haven’t done the shower yet, but starting small is probably the way forward. I’m sure Graham would be laughing up there if he saw me trying to put an old satellite dish on the top of my car. What a guy!
Speaking of laughter, I can still hear the laugh of Mike Flowers, the founder of the Lone Star Bar and Grill. A mountain of a man, he ran that place with love, patience and kindness. I wrote about my memories of Lone Star in February of this year, and how all of us who frequented that venue thought the world of its owner and his wife, Bobbi. I don’t know where he found the strength to deal with some of the shenanigans that went on in his bar, yet not only did he tolerate them – he embraced them. He was a very hands-on landlord, working long hours, whether it was in the restaurant, out on the patio, or in the thick of things at that bar. Sure, keeping an eye on things is always a good business practice, but I think he just loved being there, having fun with patrons of all ages.
Mike really taught us the importance of being generous, and not losing your temper, even when the food (or beer) was flying. He was one-of-a-kind, and when the word went out that he had died in April, social media lit up with messages from far and wide. People whose lives he’d touched that may have moved away from the island, but never forgot their experiences here, shared their stories about great nights at Lone Star and how they missed those days. Thanks to Mike, those memories will live on.
Finally, I should thank Sonita Malan for helping me see that the glass can be half-full, even when things look really dark. Sonita actually used to work at Compass Media, and then she branched out on her own. Even if you didn’t know her well, chances are good you would have seen her flitting effortlessly around functions, fundraisers and food festivals, carrying an impressive amount of camera gear as she captured countless moments.
She was a very spiritual person – ever-positive and thankful. Being the cynical Brit that I am, I would have said I had a completely different outlook on life from Sonita, but it was impossible to resist that happy energy of hers. It drew you in and made you realise that no matter what kind of day you’d had, you still had a lot to be grateful for. I’ll always appreciate her for that.
The world could use more of the people I’ve mentioned because otherwise, what a boring place it would be to live in. We should all be taking leaves out of their books… and I might have to start looking for that satellite dish after all.
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