‘Chronic’ – father, junk dealer, landlord, contractor, builder

by Colin King Fri, Nov 18. 2011

Seraph ‘Chronic’ Trumpet was in a lot of ways to me, in a friendship of seven months between us, rather like the Great Gatsby,{{more}} – hero of arguably the most memorable novel- written in American Literary History (F Scott Fitzgerald).

Gatsby was intelligent, misplaced by society, and backed down to no one in search of his dream.

Seraph in the ‘great house’ overlooking where his renters lived at Longwall, Kingstown, surveyed and ‘ruled’ fairly, and was liked by all his tenants.

‘Chronic’ was last sighted in the media prior to this in a spot of trouble with neighbors for a scrap iron pile, which made front page of SEARCHLIGHT recently.

He was, however, an honest, hard working, to the bone man, a 4th place Common Entrance examination scholar, a student with a bright future.

Landlord, junk dealer, businessman, builder, contractor, father, ‘Chronic’ was in negotiation with the Ministry of Housing for building contracts at the time of his death. He also had qualifications in accounting, which he did for a while in Calgary, Canada.

He was honest. He worked at renovating his many properties, and trying to make an honest living. From sun up his voice always hailing me and the other neighbors, to sun down working at night on an unfinished structure adjacent to his house that showed his expertise in construction in Canada, French style porthole windows, elegant columns as he described them to me.

I hurt for his mother, and my dear friend, his widow, Patricia, stay-at-home mother to the five and one-year-old sons, imaginatively named “Marvelous’ and ‘Excellent’.

Chronic was stabbed, once to the heart, by a young man, in an old and repeatedly run story scenario on front pages with unceasing regularity here in SVG; a killing over an argument, a difference of opinion.

The life behind the statistic is someone I know. Scrapping for St. Vincent.

I can’t help but think that soon all good souls will be gone from St. Vincent, once the Jamerican revolution of lawlessness, often not stemmed by a futile minority of police.

I cried a few tears for my friend, a more civilized landlord than all I’ve endured.

In the court of public opinion, ‘Chronic’ may not have seemed much. His attitude to friends and family prove otherwise.

There is an old legend that children, before being born, choose their names with their parents in other worlds. I wish the Trumpet family a “Marvelous, excellent” life in St. Vincent, which is not so at the moment for many honest people everywhere.

The name Seraph is in fact derived from Seraphim which means angel.