For Foster, who made the Manchester Club home

Hello Everyone,

Well, one thing Covid did for some of us is, crushingly, remind us how short life is. So, in that spirit, I'd like to invite you to contribute to a retirement gift for Foster. I have set a probably ridiculous goal of $10,000 USD but please give what you can.

Long ago, in 1968, things were busy at the Manchester Club. The bar at the beautiful and venerable old clubhouse at the corner of Caledonia Road and Ward Avenue was hopping and Mr. Wint, the head barman, needed help. He asked his nephew, Foster, if he could come in to help for a day. That day turned into more than 50 years of service to the members of the Manchester Club.

For me, as a boy lucky enough to be able to play at the club, Foster was always the one who I could count on. Mr. Wint could get cross and you had to be careful. But Foster always smiled that creased grin and helped you through whatever small crisis you were in. And when the boys and girls would sneak into the snooker room where we were not supposed to be, Foster would come in and frown, tell us politely that "yu know yu c'aan be in here" and send us on our way. He seemed to understand that we meant no harm and that we were just kids.

Along those 50 years, he must have made thousand of gallons of his amazing limeade, dealt with countless drunkards lurching and yelling at the bar (one of them probably my father from time to time.) In his early years there, the country was transitioning slowly into independence. The old colonial ways still breathed, especially at the Manchester Club. I'm sure he had to deal with the classism and racism in the membership, dismissive privilege and all.

Foster was there through the turmoil of the 1970s and the gradual diminishing resources of the 1980s which eventually led to the sale of the clubhouse segment of the property in the early 90s. Foster moved to the new clubhouse off Brumalia Road when it opened and has continued to service a smaller membership there. He has raised a fine family - at least three of his boys, now men, serve as police officers. More than anything, Foster is kind-hearted and true, rarely complaining even when complaining made sense.

Thank you, Foster, for helping me through my early years, and always being there in service. Walk good.

I am sending this to a limited group since I don't have emails for many who might contribute. Please forward this on to those people you think would consider contributing. I am in Jamaica the third week of October and plan to visit Foster during that week. - David Stirrat