WASHINGTON, D.C., June 23, 2024 — BAHAMAS CHRONICLE EDITOR’S NOTE: My very good friend Joseph Taylor, with whom I grew up during my boyhood years at Stanyard Creek, Andros, died in New York, on Tuesday, June 4, 2024, at the age of 88. Joe moved to New York in his late teens and had a highly successful career in New York’s hotel industry. His loving daughter Linda Taylor, who lives in Charlotte, North Carolina but is currently in New York assisting with his funeral arrangements, wrote a stirring tribute to her late father that I decided to share as a Guest Commentary with readers of my Washington, D.C. – based online publication, BAHAMAS CHRONICLE, which has a huge following among the Bahamian diaspora across the United States, Canada and the United Kingdom as well as in The Bahamas and the wider Caribbean.
TRIBUTE TO MY FATHER, JOSEPH EMMANUEL TAYLOR
GUEST COMMENTARY: BY LINDA TAYLOR
NEW YORK, N.Y. — A precocious boy growing up at Stanyard Creek, Andros, the largest of the 700 islands that comprise The Bahamian archipelago, my father moved to the United States as a teenager and began his journey of excellence. During his career, he was a bellman, a bread boy, a butler, a maître d’, a concert and fashion show promoter, a saxophonist, a vocalist and a deacon. He was also a caring uncle, a cousin and a friend at heart.
My father Joseph Emmanuell Taylor was my hero. Dad was a man of unwavering dedication, strength and support. He worked tirelessly to provide for us, ensuring that we had everything we needed and more. His commitment to our family was a testament to his character and love, despite being a distant divorced parent.
Dad affectionately called me “Grinny Dough,” a name he made up. The nickname itself conjured up laughter in me because it always sounded funny. He always saw me as his happy smiling daughter. He never felt neglected by me, often boasting to others about how I talked to him daily and checked on him. When I visited, I cooked, cleaned, and frequently ran errands.
He was always eager to give advice and showed care and concern for my safety, even while crossing the street. I recall him holding my hand and pulling me across the street quickly and saying, “Girl, you got to be fast in New York.”
If it was late in the evening and he had not heard from me, he would call me, always concerned and caring. I did not grow up with Dad. I grew up in Nassau with my maternal grandparents. However, I lived with my dad and grandmother when I went to college. As an adult, I learned to depend on myself because I did not want to burden him. He encouraged my independence, and as a result I am who I am today.
Upon my dad’s retirement, he was drawn to people who had passed on. He would watch funerals of famous celebrities, many of whom he knew. He had a private collection of obituaries he had collected over the decades. He frequently read the papers searching for obituaries and news. He was a news junkie (laugh). My dad created a list of people he wanted to be contacted if something happened to him.
He would often remind me about “the list,” asking, “Linda, do you have that list? Because I need to add some names.” I would assure him that I had it in multiple places. Then I would ask why. He would remind me that everyone of us will die, and I would then ask when he wanted to update the list. He would respond, “Tomorrow,”.
The next day he would be firmly engrossed in his favorite morning panel talk shows or Jeopardy at night or news programs. This list he spoke about was an excel compilation of people he wanted to be contacted in the event something happened to him. Names like Nurse English, the complex nurse; his nieces Lorey and Joy, and cousin Regina. I would often ask, “Dad, when is this list going to end?” His reminders of the list were a reflection of his unique way of preparing for the inevitable.
Despite his tireless efforts and outward strength, his health began to decline because he had lost the love of his life, Barbara Coston. She was his life companion and friend who predeceased him. My father became reclusive and withdrawn as a result of losing her. He often told me how much he missed her. That love I could not replace, but I gave the love from a daughter to a father as best I knew how, and we would sometimes discuss news and politics.
Every day, without fail, we spoke on the phone. Sometimes it was just once, but often it was multiple times in a day. Those conversations were a cornerstone of our relationship, a constant thread that connected us no matter the distance or circumstances. Dad’s deep voice on the other end of the line was always a source of comfort, wisdom, and firm support.
He was a proud, private lifelong bachelor who valued his space and privacy and took people in small dosages just like my late sister did. He discouraged anyone from permanently living with him, preferring the solitude and peace of his private bachelor life. His mind continued to be sharp and alert to the end, and he would recite poems.
The eve of his death was the one day I did not call. I never knew that the one day I did not call due to no service on my phone would propel me the following day to do a wellness check after he did not answer both phones. That day, June 4th, he was found unresponsive. That would be the day he died in his sleep. This haunting coincidence is a stark reminder of the unpredictability of life and the preciousness of every moment we have with our loved ones. We must cherish those moments.
His passing is even more poignant as it came exactly two months to the date after we lost my sister and his first born. And today as I prepared my father’s tribute, I learnt of my cousin Alonis Wong’s death. We lost his mother, Claudette several years back. Our family has faced profound loss in such a short span, and the weight of these consecutive heartbreaks is almost unbearable. But through this pain, we find strength in the memories and the legacy my father left behind and strength in prays and God. The kindness he shared with the community by just giving water to thirsty residents and trip plannings and fashion shows.
A beacon of love and kindness, his tireless efforts and daily conversations will forever be etched in our hearts. The conversations of his boyhood experiences where he was raised by Eva Marshal and Tita Marshall, who kept bread in her breast to feed him. I would never forget the meals he prepared for me — the tasty succulent meals he prepared for me. I recall roasted turkey wings with the trimmings and gravy that was prepared and I know that I can never replicate that flavor.
Though he is no longer with us, his spirit, his lessons, and his love will continue to guide us through every step of our lives.
Dad, I love you, and your spirit will never die. We are always together. Your memory will live on in my heart, and your love will continue to guide me. You were more than a father; you were a provider, a protector, and a confidant. Your love and dedication will always be remembered and cherished. Rest in peace dad, knowing that you were deeply loved and appreciated and your legacy of love kindness and strength will never be forgotten.
Linda Taylor, Loving Daughter
