Journey Through Life

The story begins way back in the early 1950's when I was born. There were many ups and downs with a lot of curve balls thrown into the mix.  My father worked hard all his life until a few days before his death. He worked cutting cane with the cane knife, not a harvester like used to cut the cane now. The cane burnt each evening to be harvested by hand the next morning, where it was cut in back breaking work to be laid on the ground in rows. Later the top were cut from the sticks before being loaded on a tram wagon to be taken away to the mill to be made into sugar. All the workers covered in the black burnt thrash left on the cane. He also worked for the railway fixing bridges, a navvy who cared for the first class maintenance of the rail line to keep the trains moving. In his spare time he worked cutting timber which he transported to the sawmills. Cut sleeper blocks which were sent away to be cut into sleepers for the holding together of the railway tracks. Then he build his ...