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Archive for the tag “Hugh James”

Keagan Larry Goldberg turns 21!

Keagan, being my first child, was the love of my life!
I woke up one morning to begin a new job at the Department of National Health and Population Development, South Africa, only to discover at the end of the week, that I was pregnant with ‘yours truly’.
Larry and I were ‘over-the-moon’ at this fantastic news, however I had to try and hide this pregnancy from my new employers.  This was not easy as Keagan had a voracious appetite in my tummy! 
Keagan was born through caesarean section at Parklands hospital on 30th October 1991.
Our first child and the first grand-child of Hugh and Nadine James. 
Keagan delighted us with his achievement of every milestone, with a head full of blonde ringlets, he was a beautiful, good child.
Being somewhat of an opportunist, when Rolf Offerman vacated his flat in Cumberland I saw the perfect opportunity to sell our house and move in next door to my mother who could then be a 24/7 babysitter!
Keagan grew up with both Piet and Nadine’s full attention.  Sunday morning ‘sleep in’s’ were paradise for Larry and I as I would shove Keagan into their flat and tell him to “go and find Dinie”!
Keagan was given every educational toy conceivable made by the two retired, devoted educationalists, Piet and Nadine. 
Keagan ate his first ‘solid’, said his first ‘word’ and indeed took his first ‘step’ in 71 Cumberland which has been home to him until very recently.
I did not return to work for many years and enjoyed Keagan’s development, watching this gorgeous toddler grow into the loving, sensitive, kind gentleman he is today.
A year and a half after Keagan was born darling Chesney came along.  
At first Keagan did not enjoy the ‘shared attention’ and I remember at Chesney’s bris when my sister, Merida, was holding him, in Cumberland, Keagan wanted Mer to take Chesney back with her to Cape Town!!
It has filled me with such pride to see how Keagan and Chesney have grown up together as ‘brothers’ in the full sense of the word.
Both are them are sociable with many friends but their love and loyalty to each other reminds me of “He ain’t heavy he’s my brother!” (and he IS quite heavy, no offense Ches! ha ha)
Keagan, Chesney and I have a ‘special bond’ and have gone through some ‘challenging times’ and I have always been an advocate of ‘what doesn’t break you makes you stronger’.
In 2002 Eothan came along and both Keagan and Chesney made way for a little ‘bro’ who they nurtured.
I am sad that I cannot be with you all today and wish you a wonderful celebration to this outstanding young man.
Keagan, you have been and always will be ‘my best friend’. 
Distance shores do not effect the ‘real, honest’ relationship that we share and for that I thank you.  
You make me proud.
I love you. 
Kerry-Lynn Bouman



There’s a snail at the bottom of my garden and it’s name is Wiggley-woo


(This charming email was sent to me today by my father, Hugh James, who lives in Ashton, Western Province, South Africa)

It was at the bottom of my garden that I encountered the manifestation of an experience which recurs many times.  The experience itself was simple, even trivial, surprisingly vivid and accompanied by an almost overwhelming onrush of happiness.

I was alone in the garden.  The sun was shining with that peculiar benignity that comes with the start of summer.  I had wondered alone slowly along the gravel path, eyes down and hands in pockets.

I sat on the rough bench next to my potting table and there wafted pleasant odours of humus and grass clippings.  I sat there in the sunshine and there on the gravel path in front of me was a snail.

He was a perfectly ordinary snail and he was making his patient way across the path with all the leisurely determination of his kind.  Behind him his silvery trail gleamed faintly over the stones.  I watched him idly, kicking at the gravel with my heel and as I watched, there came over me the most extraordinary feeling of happiness and contentment.  Its ingredients were comfort, well-being and leisure.  The sun was warm on my back, I had neither ulcer nor toothache and time was my own.  If I wanted to I could sit there for a very long time indeed and watch my snail.

If I wanted to (but I didn’t) I could get up there and then and walk back into the house and leave my solitary snail to go its lonely way.

The choice was mine and the moment was mine to make what I would of it.

Nobody called out to me to come and attend to a chore and so I sat there and the moment was timeless and without ending, a moment of utter peace, my revelation of that inner happiness that comes from time to time throughout a human life and lights it up and gives it form and meaning .  .  .

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