“Love doesn’t make the world go ’round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.” ~ Franklin P. Jones.

December has always been my favorite month of the year.  No surprise really, since it is my birth month.  Considering I only saw a tiny bit of December when I was born (on the eve of New Year’s Eve), and have to share my month with the big Christmas celebrations, you would perhaps think I would want another month! But no, I was always lucky that the letdown we sometimes feel after Christmas is behind us was erased by the knowledge that my birthday was still to come.

Birthday parties in my family were limited to immediate family only.  My mother’s rule.  She claimed (and this was probably more due to financial limitations than anything) that there were enough of us in our family to be a party all by ourselves! So on our special day we of course had cake and candles and singing of the happy birthday song, and gifts.  Birthday gifts from family in the UK would either have arrived in the Christmas parcel mailed weeks before (going by surface, or sea mail, since air mail for packages was very expensive), or be combined with my Christmas gift.  Ask any child born around Christmas Day, the worst thing is the Christmas giver that says: ‘I spent a little more than usual on your Christmas present, so this is for Christmas and Birthday combined’.

After I was abruptly told by an older sibling (to protect the guilty I will not name names) that Father Christmas (he wasn’t Santa Claus in those days) was in fact our parents, I was particularly thankful that my mother had always made sure that my Christmas and Birthday gifts were completely separate.  When, later in life, I voiced my appreciation for this fact to my mother, she explained that her mother was born very close to Christmas and had always warned her children: ‘Make sure you give me two gifts’!

If you have not been exposed to Jamaican culture and routines, I will warn you. If your child is invited to another Jamaican child’s birthday party, do not expect to see children’s food, cake and games.  Well yes, they will be there, but behind that party is an excuse for an adult party.  And an adult Jamaican party is a thing to behold.  Enough (Jamaican) food to feed two armies; music loud enough to resonate through your chest and into next year; liquor floating like a swollen river; people like trouble! Yes, there’ll be cake and ting fi di kids dem, but the emphasis is on the adults!

In the 50s and 60s this tradition of Jamaican house parties became a home away from home in the U.K.  Traveling to the motherland (ironically the non-biological mother of those descended from enslaved Africans) on the Windrush and subsequent transatlantic voyages of West Indians in the ‘colonies’, proved to be a cold and unwelcoming journey.  English (White) people were suspicious, prejudiced, ignorant and unwelcoming.  Employment at first was hard to find due to prejudice.  Lodgings were cold, tiny, and damp.  The weather was grey, cold and damp.  The money was tight, and the opportunities for having a social life were few (since even the pubs would not be welcoming).  House parties became the place for gathering, eating proper food, hearing the music from home and just being yourself.  In some cases they also became a source for income, as money would be charged at the door to help pay the rent! They were known as ‘rent parties’ and no doubt, with the entrepreneurial spirit alive and well, other opportunities were born.

I am not much of a party thrower.  For many reasons.  And as to having a party for me? That’s ok, you can get me a gift instead.  Or perhaps a trip out of town.  My daughter has offered to throw a party for me for years now.  And always my answer had been, no, that’s ok.  But one day I broke down and said, ok, when I turn 70 you can throw me a party.  And guess what? This is the year I turn 70 (in 3 days, but who’s counting!).  I decided the theme had to be Jamaican, since that is my adopted homeland, which made the color choices for decorations and dress code simple: black, green and gold, or any of the above.  And since I don’t like to be the center of attention, there would be no formalities.  Just (as described above) food, music, liquor.  And the music had to be Jamaican music which would get everyone dancing.  For if no one is dancing, obviously it can’t be a Jamaican party!

The lyrics of one of Bob Marley’s songs, or at least one of the lines in it, has always puzzled me from a grammatical and interpretation viewpoint.  In it he asks (and this is how it sounds) ‘Could you be love, and be love?’ When I look up the lyrics it is written as ‘Could you be loved, and be loved?’  Which surely is a repetitive redundancy.  We can’t go by how Bob sings it, since spoken Jamaican does not follow English grammar rules. But surely, for the question to make sense, and not just be a repetition, one of those ‘loves’ must be different from the other.  Could you be loved? And be love? 

For some of us, self-love (which should come first) is the hardest task.  Raised to take care of the needs of others first, we often love our neighbor before we love ourselves.  It becomes an interesting question then, could you allow yourself to be loved by others.  During the party on Saturday night I realized that doing things with love ensures success.  No matter what may go wrong, what best laid plans may have hiccups, when something is done with love it shows.  And believe me, Love was the magic ingredient at my party!

One of the Christmas hymns tells us: ‘Love came down at Christmas’, a sentiment shared by Christians, and felt by every recipient of Christmas gifts.  Now that I am (so much!) older, I realize that I should have been grateful for those presents, whether combined or single, as they represented quite a sacrifice for the givers.  And that accepting the gifts graciously (as we should accept being loved) is a gift in itself.

So this Friday morning (Happy Boxing Day, for those who celebrate it!) I am taking Bob’s message to remind me to acknowledge that it is truly special to be loved, but that we must be love to keep this world going around.  In a time when hate and division strive to be uppermost, it is the way we fight back.  In the hills above Montego Bay, one family that still has a long way to get to recovery from the storm, has felt the love of their community coming together to make sure that Christmas happened this year, especially for the kids and the seniors around them.  And that love then multiplies and speeds healing for both the givers and the recipients.  May this Christmas season bring you evidence of the love all around you.  And please, be loved, and be love!

Have a wonderful weekend and a fabulous 2026, Family!

One Love! (Another of Bob Marley’s powerful messages!)

Namaste.