The saying goes, that in Jamaica, there are two categories of high school old boys – one went to Kingston College, and the other wished that it did.
In addition, within the former, there is a sub-category, frequently termed: `Diehard KC man dem'. And in the recent passing of Maurice MacDonald in Toronto, Canada after a prolonged illness, the Kingston College fraternity lost a `Diehard KC man'.
As I sat one morning on a stool, in a Coopers Hill home this past July, the true meaning of what it is to be a `Diehard KC man', hit home. It's about 8:30 am and my host is pacing his kitchen floor, back-and-forth, with tongue wagging, and as far as the spiral cord on his land-line phone will allow. "I'll call you back as soon as I talk to `so-and-so'," he keeps saying in his nasal drawl. I feel like I am in a war-room witnessing strategic plans being drawn up for an attack, and I know better than to interrupt.
There is a passion, a tenacity, and that so familiar never-say-die attitude in the caller's voice and demeanour. What I am bearing witness to, is an all-out effort by Trevor Harris on one end of the line and alternatingly, Charlie Grant, Audley Hewitt, Churchil Neita, and `Mollo' Walker, taking turns at the other. It is a tag-team effort to get a youngster registered to enroll into Kingston College this fall.
In essence, I was privied to the machinations of five `Diehard KC man dem', asking aloud: `not what KC had done for them, but what they as KC Old Boys, could do for KC'.
It was on this same visit to Jamaica, that I placed a call to Doug MacDonald back in Toronto, Canada, only to learn that his brother Maurice, who had been ailing for the last seven years, had taken a turn for the worse. On August 24th, he succumbed, and the KC fraternity had lost a quiet `Diehard KC man'.
The world of Kingston College takes all kinds to make it spin. The aforementioned five gentlemen are well known by their heroics, magnetism, philanthropy and success. They, by their deeds, have pulled in hundreds to the cause of Kingston College.
But there are those who operate on a less prolific level – in the boiler rooms of the Kingston College machinery, working quietly, diligently but towards the same cause. They are no less passionate, driven, determined and effusive. In fact, by their lesser notoriety, their road might be a harder one to hoe.
Such was one Maurice MacDonald – a long time stalwart in the Kingston College Old Boys Association – Toronto Chapter.
Reeces (r), cooling his heels on Jamaica's north coast
I met Maurice when he first attended Kingston College in 1965. I knew he was the son of my first-form master Mr. Edward MacDonald familiarly known to all as `Teacher Mac’.
For some strange reason, even long after I had left Kingston College, `Teacher Mac’ would speak glowingly of me as having the potential. And up until his death, might still have been harboring thoughts of me turning out to be some rocket scientist or the other. Well, we all can’t always be right all the time. `Teacher Mac’ was only human.
Needless to say, I had an enormous respect for Mr. Mac, and never wanted to let him down in any way. `Reeces’ his son, as he was called, garnered that same respect from me. It was in part, out of his quiet personality for sure. But also out of the fear that any misbehavior on my part, might find its way back to his father Mr. Mac. Another reason was that `Reeces’ was strong in the subject of chemistry and I was not. And so, even more respect was due. But in general, I found him affable, circumspect, measured and reasoned.
Pallbearers at Maurice's funeral
We would run into each other at UWI fetes, stadium-held sporting events and other drinking sessions at bars around Kingston College – notable one called Mumsey’s. In all situations, `Reeces’ was always restrained in his deportment, but not shy to make his point well known.
Later on, when I would visit Toronto, he would always try and drop into his brother’s where I would always stay, and shoot the breeze with me. “Den wha’ppen Fordie,” would be his greeting. Inevitably, in the swirl of activities that is customary in his brother’s Douggie Mac’s house, we would always make our way to the periphery, find some quiet, and discuss where Kingston College was, and where we envisioned it going. It was typical `Reeces’ – not fussy, and not particularly eager to take center-stage. He was more a listener than a talker. But behind his quietness, he was always up on current affairs. And most times, he caught me unawares by the topics he broached. I will miss those fireside-like chats.
And so, it was one of my saddest regrets, that towards the end, when he could no longer come to see me, and I had to go to see him, I could not properly understand what his sharp brain was trying to communicate. Nevertheless, he would always motion to his wife Norma to bring a cold Heineken for Douggie and I. In his mind: `The show must go on’.
One weekend in Jamaica though, I will cherish. I had gone to Three Hills, Retreat, St Mary to visit with my aunt, and `Reeces’ invited my wife and me, to stay with him and his in-laws at their beach-front house on the coast in Ocho Rios. I was mobile at the time, and after spending the night there, we rode the coast, east towards Port Antonio, then west towards Trelawny, stopping at almost every watering-hole along the route. `Reeces’ was just `Recess’. Later on that night, we topped the day off, by dining at a nice little restaurant in Ocho Rios.
In Toronto, Canada, Maurice held various posts within the Kingston College Old Boys Association. At times, I had wished he was more forceful in carrying out certain agendas. But forcefulness was truly alien to his make-up. `Reeces’ was just `Reeces’, and gentility was his style. And who knows. In his wisdom, he might have felt that some of my suggestions might not serve Kingston College at large, as well as I had perceived. `Reeces’ rightfully put the cause of his beloved Alma Mater K.C., above all others.
The turnout at his viewing, and at the funeral the following day, was a true reflection of the affection the Kingston College community and the Toronto community at large, held for him. This affection and respect were also reflected in the glowing tributes paid by family and close friends.
The eulogy was delivered by his brother Douglas MacDonald, and tributes were paid by his daughter Sharma, brother-in-law Franchot Franklyn and childhood friend High Court Judge the Honorable Dennis Morrison, QC., who travelled up from Jamaica to pay his respects.
His life taught much. He was a good family man. But his close relationship with his brother Douglas, was a joy to behold. It was a shining example of how siblings should live. `Reeces’, Dougie would greet him in a loud voice as he walked through the door at Timbers Circle. `Den whap’en Douggie Mac?” would be Maurice’s retort. And so the banter would begin.
One noticeable absentee from the proceedings, was his nephew Kurt Douglas MacDonald – the son of his brother Douglas. It so happened that Kurt had just gone away to start his medical studies at Columbia University in New York, U.S.A.
This coincidence might be one of God’s great examples of life continuing after death.
Here, one MacDonald passes on, and at the same time, another MacDonald, blessed with the mental capacity, and the guidance of his two fine parents, is embarking on a profession to heal the sick and, where possible, to extend life. Perfect timing in God’s own way, one might say.
Our thoughts and prayers continue to be with his mother Megan, wife Norma, their two daughters Sharma and Sabrina, Douglas his brother, and the extended MacDonald family, as they grieve his loss. And we should all say a little prayer for young Kurt MacDonald as well. That he may fulfill all our hopes and dreams. And that he may dedicate his work to his uncle’s honor.
