Thanks for always catching me, Dad (For my father, Daniel George Cooper)

Donnette Cooper, Contributor

I was three years old when I met my father. It was the day he returned from England. I believe I went to the wharf with mama to meet him but I am not sure. What I recall clearly was my impression of a tall, imposing stranger.

I called him "the man". When my sister, Joy, came home that day, I ran to meet her and exclaimed in a loud whisper, "The man, the man is here!" I kept peeping at him around corners and ran off when he called for Baby Donnette. He must have eventually won me over with his ability to throw me up and fly me in the air.

He had a tailoring establishment on Langston Rd in Kingston, with an adjacent snack shop. I used to pass the shop on my way home from primary school and could always talk him into giving snacks to me and my friends. He had the habit of calling all and sundry "sonny boy", including me. When I protested, he dubbed me "sonny girl".

I loved to watch him build a suit. He had a workshop in the carport at home and I would sit on the periphery and watch him work. I was fascinated by the tools of the trade: the huge cutting table, the curved rulers, the right-angle rulers, the straight rulers, the massive cutting scissors, the pressing forms, the tailor chalk and the goose iron with hot coals burning inside. But I was more impressed by his ability to create structure and form out of cloth. He was meticulous and each suit was an opportunity to create near perfection.

TOOK CHURCH SERIOUSLY

The only thing my father took on as seriously as tailoring was church work. He was a man of morning and evening worship, Bible study, prayer meetings, and relentless evangelism. We used to play catch-up regularly when I thought he was paying too much attention to the world to come when there were matters that needed his immediate attention in the here and now. As a teenager, I would often challenge his conservative beliefs and we would argue over anything and everything.

Fortunately, we had a shared interest in fashion and design that helped to patch our differences. I took a clothing construction class in college and tried my hands at building my own suits. I presented my early efforts to him in New York for his critique and approval. While he was not lavish in his praise - especially as he didn't think women should be in the tailoring business - I think he was surprised by how well I did and sometimes would ask, "Is you do dis?"

My mother died when I was 12, so I am particularly grateful for the time I had with my father. I had time to let go of the things that irritated and disappointed me … or, at least, have them lose their prominence. I had the privilege of helping to take care of him in his later years and advocate on his behalf. As a quilter, I got the chance to sew for him and feel his unqualified approval of my talent and our shared connection in cloth.

Maas George, I salute you. Thank you for blazing a path to England and America to make a better life for us. Thank you for your sense of style and design that you bequeathed to me. Thank you for your example of exquisite dedication to your craft. Thank you for your powerful prayers of protection and safety. And most of all, thank you for throwing me up in the air and always catching me.

Waak gud!

With lots of love, from your sonny girl/baby, Donnette.