A century of memories

At 100 years old, Isaiah Freckleton still marvels at the passage of time. Lying in his bed one night, alone with his thoughts, the centenarian found himself pondering.

“I began to count from one to a hundred,” he said. “And I lay down, and I started to think ... I began to count from one to two, to 50. But I said, what is this? This is funny. The other day, I was just eight years old.”

Freckleton was born on September 26, 1925, a fact he proudly proves with his original birth certificate, issued at a time when births were registered at the post office.

Now a centenarian living in Big Bridge, Westmoreland, his life spans colonial Jamaica, migration abroad, and the raising of generations.

His memories drift easily back to childhood, when days were filled with school, mischief, and long walks home through the fields.

“When I was coming home from school in the evening time, we used to have a short cut from Frankfield,” he recalled, highlighting that his mischievous childhood days were spent in Clarendon.

ADVENTURES AND CHURCH

Those walks often turned into adventures.

“Sometimes when we were coming from school, we would take time and crawl in the cane piece (field), and take our penknife and screw the bottom ... and break the cane ... [Then we] share it up [and eat it]. It was nice.”

Sundays, however, were reserved for church.

“On a Sunday morning, when our mama would get ready to go to Sunday school, she would shout and say, ‘Boy! You don’t put your Sunday-school shirt on? Come on! Come and serve the Lord.’”

Freckleton left school at 16 and, like many boys his age, tested boundaries.

“I begin to come from school late. And my mama started to shout at me and say, ‘Boy! Where you been from school?’ And I would tell a little lie. A little one,” he said with a laugh. “‘Mama, the rain was falling.’ But no rain didn’t fall up here.”

By 17, he knew he wanted to learn a trade.

“I told my mom I don’t want to go back to school. She said, ‘What do you want to learn?’ I said, ‘I want to learn tailoring.’” His mother arranged an apprenticeship, setting him on a path that would shape much of his working life.

As he grew older, the desire for independence took him overseas. In the 1970s, Freckleton migrated to England, where life was starkly different.

“The first night, I slept at the Salvation Army,” he said. “The next morning, I had nowhere to go.”

Fate intervened when he met a former schoolmate on the street.

“He shouted, ‘Bigga!’ They called me ‘Bigga’ because I was big in body,” Freckleton said. The reunion led to shelter and more work, a new beginning at the time.

He quickly found employment in tailoring shops.

“The next day I had a job as a presser,” he said. “I worked three days. I didn’t like it. I walked out. They gave me six pounds. That was a lot of money [then].”

That independence defined his years abroad.

“I had 17 jobs before leaving,” he said proudly. “I was very, very independent.”

FAMILY

Family life grew alongside his travels. Freckleton is the father of four children – Roy, Lascelles, Cleve, and Sonia – and later acknowledged having two more.

Today, his legacy stretches across borders, with 17 grandchildren and several great-grandchildren being accounted for from one son, Lascelles, most of whom live in England. Freckleton, however, seemed to have too many grandchildren and great-grandchildren to remember.

“They are prosperous,” he said. “They are all in England.”

Despite his age, Freckleton remains conscious of his health. At 70 years old, he had a stroke which made him thirsty, specifically for sweet things only.

“I stop eating flour now because I had a touch of sugar,” he said. “The doctor put me on treatment.”

Growing up, he even remembered seeing his father eating two and a half dumplings, while he was merely allowed to have two. His desire to become an independent man stemmed from wanting a hefty ‘manly’ dinner for himself.

Still, he enjoys traditional foods, especially ‘blue draws’.

“You haven’t been making blue drawers for a long time,” he told his wife of approximately 16 years. “You haven’t got your banana leaf?”

Faith, he says, has kept him anchored throughout his life.

“I believe that Jesus Christ is God,” he said. One childhood memory remains vivid which, he says, is equivalent to a miracle.

“The rain came down heavily and I run and I said, ‘Hold your hand, Lord, hold your hand.’ And I remember the rain just died down.”

POSITIVE WORDS FROM COMMUNITY

Meanwhile, community members describe Freckleton as warm and always engaging. Church sister at the Glory House Healing and Deliverance Ministries, Althea Samuels, recalled, “He always had a smile. He would play the guitar at church. He’s outgoing, easy to talk to.”

Samuels no longer attends the branch at Big Bridge; she instead attends the one located on Darling Street in Savanna-la-Mar. Despite not seeing him for a long while, she still thinks highly of Freckleton.

Other community members were also gathered at the centenarian’s belated birthday celebration on Friday, all admiring Freckleton with endearing smiles.

Altina Dunn, of the Westmoreland Senior Citizens Association, said his milestone could not go unnoticed.

“It’s a tremendous achievement,” he said. “A wonderful milestone, which only few people get to reach. People love him in this community.”

“It’s been a pleasure to see someone like Mr Freckleton who lived within this community for quite a good number of years. A very wonderful person in the whole district.”

“People love him. It’s a tremendous achievement, you know; it’s a wonderful milestone ... which only few people get to these [number of] years ... .”

His daughter Cheryl, speaking from overseas, highlighted another honour.

“I got him his card from King Charles,” she said. “When you’re a UK citizen, the King gives you a card for your 100th birthday. It’s crazy to get this card from the King, but after he worked all those years in the cold, he loved it.”

Though age has brought challenges, such as frequent falls and a lingering back pain, Freckleton meets them with humour and honesty.

“I keep falling on the same side of my hip bone,” he said. “The devil let me drop. The devil is a liar.”

Earlier that day, he had slipped on a curtain while his wife was away, falling on his left hip bone again, but, not wanting to worry her, he sat in silent agony.

Freckleton had a lot of advice to hand out to the younger generation. Without hesitation, he said sternly, “Six, seven, eight, nine, 10 children ... it’s too much,” he said. “Two or three. That’s enough. I pray to God that God will change the atmosphere and change the mind of people to stick to God.”

Born in 1925, Isaiah Freckleton has lived a century shaped by faith, family, work, and reflection.

From sugar cane fields in Frankfield to the streets of London and now settled in Big Bridge, Freckleton has surely lived a long life that is not only measured in the distances he has travelled or the years he has lived, but by the stories and memories worth telling.

mickalia.kington@gleanerjm.com