Gerald Saul: Legend in His Own Mind

By david singer

Gerald Saul: Legend in His Own Mind tells a story that spans the first forty years of life with mystery, adventure, sadness, love, philosophy, and travel of a person who is a legend in his own mind. It begins with the family background of a single parent mother of five, goes on to tell of the life on a small West Indian island, continues into England, travels to German then to the endurance and the struggle of life on a kibbutz in Israel, and ends on the continent of Australia.

It delves into the working life of an individual from being a paperboy to factory worker, salesperson, student, banker, police officer, youth worker, businessman, and teacher.

The individual is not politically correct, uses women for pleasure, is immoral but charming, and is a villain and a hero.

Gerald Saul: Legend in His Own Mind tackles the challenges of growing up without guidance, questioning one’s morals, coping with discrimination, and reasoning the experiences in life and the hardships of loneliness, and much more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Sep 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796004465

Book preview

Prologue

S tories whether fact or fiction should be written with a brief background and this is included in the opening passage.

These collections of stories could be about experiences of anyone and begins with my mother Shirley, who was born Sarah in Bialystok Poland in September 1911. I was never too certain as to the year my mother was born, but she insisted it was 1913. What is certain is that my mother arrived as a baby migrant to London in 1913 with her parents and she died in London, 5th May 2001.

My mother married Vincent, a man of Indian decent, whom she met while attending Oxford University, in the 1930’s. He was born in Trinidad, West Indies and is father to my half-sister, who was born September 1942 in London. My mother insisted that my half- sister was my sister as we were of the same mother. My sister married Francisco of Brazil and they had a daughter name Daisy. In the 1980’s my sister and Francisco divorced and a number of years later she met and married Tommy a lecturer in law and they now reside in Virginia USA.

In 1950 my mother married my father, Arthur who was born in British Guiana now Guyana in South America and had four children. These included my older brother Christopher, who was born August 1951, today residing in London England, married to Mary, and has three daughters.

Their second son was Brian Gerald, me, born August 1952 today residing in, Sydney Australia, married to Marilyn mother of four loving children from a previous marriage. In addition, Brian has two daughters – born out of wedlock – the first in Birmingham, England June 1977 (adopted and whereabouts unknown), the second daughter was born in September 1981, Sydney, Australia.

The youngest son of Arthur and Shirley was Richard who was born in January 1954 now residing in Australia. His first wife was Annette from Dublin, Eire they had two children. The second wife was Alexandra from the United Kingdom now residing in Queensland and his present wife is Mittie, who was born in the Philippines.

The youngest child of Shirley and Arthur was Wendy who was born May 1955 and died, August 1955, but this itself may not be a reality as there is speculation within the family as to her disappearance. My siblings and I were all born in Port of Spain, Trinidad, in the West Indies. Chris in Santa Cruz, myself in the hills of the Morvant area, while Wendy and Richard were born in Belmont, where the family moved in 1952 after my birth. Today we are scattered around the world.

My mother was a quiet, secretive person who did not share her story with us, she had no pictures of our father, and was reluctant to answer questions about him. In time I was to learn the reason why she behaved in this manner, but this reasoning was based on conjecture and my own interpretation of history. In this time, I was to forgive her for her behaviour towards her sons, though my brother Richard has stated that he could never forgive her for the punishment she inflicted on him.

In the time period, 1950’s- 60’s, in which we were developing, Government Welfare was not part of the system, my mother had few friends, her husband had deserted her, and she had no family to which to turn. She was subjected to racist behaviour and had four children to clothe, feed and shelter.

I now recognise my mother to be a strong woman who survived the pressures of the world, the loneliness of the night and the weight of burden of her children. She did not abandon her children but struggled to keep them together and gave them the best under the circumstances in which she found herself. The children brought themselves up on the experiences they encountered with little guidance other than punishment for doing things which she considered to be wrong, but failed to explain to us what we did wrong and why it was wrong.

As I write this I feel the sadness of my mother’s life and can feel the weepy tears moving towards my eyes. My mother’s life was a struggle, but she lived her life to the fullest and survived the bitter sweetness of this struggle to see her surviving children grow up to full adulthood and shape their own destinies.

Chapter One

The beginning

I reached this age with help from others, through the many experiences lived and encountered over time, with periods of demoralisation, ecstasy, excitement, feelings of loneliness, fear, failure, hate and love. My mother dominated my early childhood and as I aged, her power of control waned, and the influence of domination faded with the passing of time.

It was not until long after I was married that I began to understand the concept of manhood. Prior to this my life was still that of a boy who pretended to be a man into his midlife.

It was on my journey to work on the 2nd April 2014 that I realised that I am the one who has steered me to this portion in my life in which I found myself. All my life I have been waiting for my life to begin, but, we are the authors of our lives and our destiny.

In life some unforeseen event occurs that is beyond our control, but the fact that the individual is caught up in that event is based on the reality that one has put oneself in that environment. Take for example an incident in my life; the rolling of an articulated lorry unto my Toyota Corolla in the early hours of June 1990, on the Pacific Highway, just north of Mooball in Northern New South Wales, Australia. This accident would not have occurred if I was not driving this car, on that morning, on that day and time, in that part of the World. The decision to be there was based on the facts that I had decided, after playing Squash, to drive from Ballina where I was residing, a one and a half hours trip, to the Gold Coast, situated in the South Eastern part of Queensland to play Black Jack in Jupiter’s casino. After an evening of gambling, entertainment and excitement I made the decision to drive back to Ballina, where I lived, at this period of my history. As a consequence of that choice I was to lose my place of residence, my partnership business, most of my possessions and ended up spending six months of my life in Hospital and rehabilitation and loosing what I considered a fortune. This incident of near death though, was yet again, to become a catalyst for a change in my life.

Another incident in which I was caught up, is an event which occurred many years previously, on a day when I was 15 years old. I was walking in the play area to get a drink of water at lunch time from a tap situated in the school grounds. In the playground, I encountered my brother Christopher, who was a year older than me. He was bent over in agony and I asked him what happened. He said, in a low-pitched voice that he was attacked by Alexander, a fellow student who was just outside the school grounds on the footpath by the gate. I immediately marched out there to confront him. As I left the school grounds Alexander was standing outside the gate with a friend. I put up my fist and asked him why he had hit my brother. In answer, he kicked me in my testicles then said, you think that you are white and walked away laughing with his friend.

It was the first time that I was confronted with being of any particular race and just shrugged it off; it was years later before I even thought about it. At the time I was not only in agony but felt humiliated and completely puzzled by what he said. I then slowly hobbled back to where I left Chris and we both sympathised and consoled each other as we drank water from the tap. This was the first time I had stood up for my brother, but it was not to be the last.

For many years I have felt insecure and afraid and now I ask myself, why was I insecure and of what was I afraid?

My official name is Brian Saul, but I am known by family, friends and others as Gerald Saul. I was a Human Society and Its Environment teacher in Sydney, New South Wales, Australia. Though I am not known by many, I am another human who travelled this earth and left behind a small stamp in the rich tapestry of life.

I am not a Philosopher, nor famous to the world, though I did win ‘the hairy chest competition’ in 2013, on a cruise of the South Pacific, as a passenger on the cruise ship ‘Carnival Spirit’, which was repeated on the ‘Carnival Legend’ in 2016.

I have lived a complicated life, or perhaps it is just a life one lives?

As time is short in one’s life and as someone once said, life is made up of stories, today, the 13th November 2013, I am starting to record some of the stories that have made up my life prior to 1992.

In this period, I have lived on four continents if you can call Trinidad a part of the Americans, England part of Europe, Israel as part of Asia and Australia the fourth Continent.

Chapter Two

Life before England

Trinidad

1952 -1968

I t was not until I was in my early 50’s that I realised that my mother had a hard life, sacrificed much for her children and suffered through a devastating period of war, heartbreak, prejudice and loneliness.

My mother was born of Jewish parents, who escaped the pogroms of Poland to live in London. As I have stated previously, she arrived as a baby immigrant to England in 1913. In 1944 she travelled with Sandra, my sister, two years old at this time, by ship to first Barbados and then later to Trinidad to join her husband, Vincent. My mother stated that the journey was terrifying as the ship was part of a convoy travelling through the areas where German U boats prowled for their prey. She stated that the most nerve-wracking part was when they left the convoy somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, as most of the ships headed north towards North American and their lone ship headed towards the south west.

Her father (my grandfather) made his livelihood as a tailor and an electrical repairman. By the time of his death, he owned a three-story house in Primrose Hill, London, with a tailor and repair shop on the ground floor and basement. The siblings of my mother Shirley were Max, born 1916, Jack, born 1918, and Lilly. Shirley and the boys lived through the First World War, the Nazi anti-Jewish demonstrations of Mosley, the devastating bombing of London in the Second World War, in which time Jack and Max were involved in firefighting, during the bombing raids on London.

Lilly was born between the two world wars and lived through the depression and the Second World War. After the war she married a Polish survivor from Auschwitz, lived in a flat in Manor House, London and died in 2000.

My grandparents were to die sometime in the 1950’s, I was never to know or meet them. Uncle Max passed away in 1968, two months prior to my mother’s return to England. I was to meet my Uncle Jack and Aunty Lilly when I lived in London, England in my middle life 15-29 years old and later on in life when I made trips to England as a tourist, I again became acquainted with Uncle Jack on several occasions.

I was born in 1952 on a small Island in the Caribbean Sea, called Trinidad. I lived with my mother Shirley, my sister Sandra and two brothers, Christopher and Richard in Belmont, a suburb of Port of Spain, the capital of Trinidad.

Trinidad, the Island on which I lived, has a link with the smaller Island of Tobago. Our home consisted of two bedrooms; one bedroom had a large double bed in which mom and Sandra slept and the other a single bed on which Chris slept, and a double Decker bed, the top of which I slept with my brother Richard on the bottom bunk.

As you entered the house from the street at the front, you climbed five steps which led to a porch then to the front door. On opening the front door, you immediately stepped into the living room, which contained a lounge and two arm chairs facing the entrance. Inside the room, next to the door, on its left was a Television, bought in 1962, which was sitting in the corner of the room on a table/trolley with four wheels. Immediately to the back of this lounge room was a dining room which contained a large dinner table, six chairs and a display cabinet containing several drinking glasses and china, which were used on special occasions? On walking through the dining room, to its left, you entered a small room which contained a fridge and a breakfast table with four chairs. This area had a kitchen to its right side and the entrance to a passage way on the left side, which led to a large shower room and then the toilet on its right side. The area containing the breakfast table also led to the back door at the back of the house. This led through to five steps, before entering the back yard. To the left of the backyard was a clothes line which stretched from the back of the house to the back fence. To the right was a wash basin, where I would wash the clothes on a scrubbing board and then squeeze out the water on a manual Wringer before hanging them on the line.

Our neighbours located over a galvanised fence, in the back yard, at the back of our home were Mrs Black and Mr Eli, her husband (I just accepted the difference in name without a second thought) with his brother and their numerous children, about eight, all living in one room consisting of double decker beds, a table and lots of chairs.

Their house was also made up of a kitchen, a bathroom and a porch to the front, where the brother slept. Junior was the only boy, (on Christmas day 2013, I became aware of his real name in a telephone conversation, Cecil Orwell Black Jnr.), and all the rest of the children were girls. Junior, who was four years older than me, was like a father figure and I worshiped him and saw him as a protector.

When facing the front of our house from the street, Belmont Circular Road, to its right, was an alley way, next to which lived Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez with their three children, Michael and Jeffery their sons and daughter Paula. We were never allowed to enter their house, they had two dogs that were vicious and when any of our cricket balls went over their fence, they were gone forever. On the other side of our home, to the left, was a Cobblers shop next to which was a Sweet shop and to the back of these commercial buildings was a residential property. These premises extended from the street entrance to the left of the Sweet shop and ran parallel to our side yard. In this property could be found a house and a massive yard, which contained many chickens and a variety of fruit trees and this ran parallel to our home with the back yard extending past Mrs. Black’s house and yard. The entrance to this area was a gate that was located left of the Sweet shop.

Outside our house was a bus stop, so we never had to walk far to get a bus into the town centre of Port of Spain. Mind you, I cannot recall using the bus often. We did though use taxis, which ran frequently past our house and these picked up and dropped off, not just the first passenger, but other people on the journey to and from the city centre. Thus, the taxi was shared.

I can remember when I was three years old, my mother put on a birthday party for Chris and myself. It was a Saturday. I remember standing tip toe on a box to blow out the flames on the candles on my birthday cake, that was located on the dining room table. This was followed by a kiss to the nearest girl, who turned out to be Karen – a next door neighbour a year younger than myself.

After this I went into my mother’s bedroom and at the end of the bed was a cot. In it, was a baby, who turned out to be Wendy, my baby sister. I put my hand through the barrier of the cot and started playing with her tiny toes. I do not remember why I did this, but the following day, two nuns turned up at our home and I can recall one nun taking a bundle down the front steps to a black car located on the street at the front of the house, with the other nun walking beside her. The bundle was then handed over to a third nun sitting in the back of the large car. I learnt may years later, as I remember the event, that the bundle had been my sister Wendy on her last journey from home.

Chapter Three

Life Education in Trinidad

O btaining an education is not just schooling but involves all the experiences we acquire and from which we learn.

I began school when I was five. I can recollect walking with my brothers and being escorted by our sister, who pushed her bicycle, as she walked with us on the first day of Kindergarten. When we entered the school my fifteen-year-old sister registered us, and my name(after my father’s surname) was put down as Gerald Hill. In this place I can recall two distinct events from