Ian on Sunday

Sparks from the central fire – I was lucky to be near enough to feel the blaze these men ignited in the world.

For a short while one summer day out of nowhere in my life she flashed like a comet across my sky.

Such men as these walk onto a field of play, or enter a room, and their life-force brings everyone to silence and attention – these were two men who in their very different ways set my mind alight.

Rex Nettleford I found people liked to recall the royalty of his name and nature but thought that King was too high and mighty so they named him a prince of men and that somehow seemed right.

Hardly a month or even a week went by in my working life without one or the other or both of these men appearing in the world’s headlines.

Two of my Uncles were extraordinary men. Here are a few sparks from the fire of their lives.

In a long life I have read the books and been taught the deeds and studied the scholarship and seen the art of the famous in many great countries of the world.

Looking back long and far, I count and find I have known, some casually and some well, perhaps a score of geniuses in my life so far.

In a long life I have been lucky to  encounter many exceptional people who have added greatly to the flavour of living and  the range of one’s experience of this marvelous world.

A large part of what is needed in Guyana is to embed in the body politic the habit of civility.

Any practical person in charge of anything periodically asks the question: “How do we get things done most effectively?”

It seems not a day, and certainly not a week, passes without our stomachs being turned by appalling news of women cruelly abused, beaten and, often enough, murdered in headline-hot, red blood.

Many of us at some time or another, generally in a new year, have resolved to “keep a diary,” probably as part of some grand and comprehensive plan to organize one’s life better and achieve great things – plans, I am afraid, which very soon run aground on the dangerous shoals of everyday living. 

Whenever you pass a Library, never fail to bestow a silent blessing on those who work within its rooms, quietly rendering service of inestimable value.

The diaries of William Gladstone, one of the greatest British Prime Ministers, are astonishing.

The world is endlessly fascinating, and countlessly full of interesting people.

Suddenly it is Christmas again. I am eighty-seven years old.  I find that ridiculous but chronologically it is a fact.

The spirit grows weary with the weight of woe in the world at large and here at home.

This week, it seems so soon again, I was saddened by the death of an old friend who often filled my life with laughter and good advice.

When I was young, and benefitted not only from a fresh and eagerly absorptive mind but also from a strong belief that an eternity of life stretched in front of me, I loved to read big books, books of immense length.