Jeff Gilbert was just seven years old when he arrived with his parents in June 1971. I invited him to share his memories of that time. Here, in the first of what we hope will be a series of recollections, he takes us back to those early days through the eyes of a young boy.

In his own words:

Sunday, June 13, 1971. I arrived in Freeport with my mom and dad, three weeks short of my eighth birthday. The Eastern Airlines 727 door opened and the heat, then sun were the first things to hit me. Riding from the airport to our house at 24A Bass Lane I was amazed at how flat the terrain was; the lushness of the flora was Jurassic! Heat, humidity, the smell of the tropical vegetation – sensory overload!

Young Jeff outside the family home on Bass Lane, Freeport.

The next day, dad went to work in the morning, and the Sitek family took us to Silver Cove beach – forever my favorite beach. We spent the afternoon playing in the clear, blue, bathtub-warm water. I was not a proficient swimmer then, but I held my own in that shallow surf. I quickly learned that the sun in Freeport was a bit more brutal than that back in Georgia – a bit of a burn, coupled with a few sand spurs in my feet provided my first lesson in becoming a Bahamian.

Our belongings would not arrive for a week, so it was a bit spartan for me at first, but I quickly learned to explore and engage everything in my new environ: lizards, coconuts, coral, palmettos fronds, Bougainvillea, sea grapes, a continuous kite-worthy wind, and roadside puddles harboring millions of tadpoles. Every morning that summer dawned sunny and warm. Every day was a new adventure.

“Downtown” Freeport meant Churchill Square. Although only a few blocks from the house it was quite a walk to me as a kid. John S. George hardware was a source of all sorts of things a kid could like. Food Fair – affiliated with dad’s Grey’s Poultry – was our go-to grocery store, and I met many new friends there.

We walked to the then newish post office – found our box, F1080 – and figured out the combination. I knew England had a Queen, but until I saw her big portrait in the P.O. I had never thought much about her. My stamp collecting kick started there, as so many discarded envelopes and packaging in the rubbish (a novel word for me!) was a gold mine of stamps, especially those from the empire. Between the stamps and the Bahamian currency and coins it really began to sink in that I was in a remarkably different country.

Bahamian postage stamps from Jeff’s own collection.

Mom thought I was bored (wrong) so I was enrolled in the YMCA summer camp for a few weeks while she set up house. Three Dog Night’s “Joy To The World” was on heavy rotation on the juke box. Games, various crafts, hamburgers, and learning to swim more proficiently were the order of the day. I still have a fish ‘award patch’ – some kids had them all, I was jealous! I met my first close friend there that summer, Jay Weiss.

A highlight of that first ‘Goombay Summer’ were performances of the national police band, marching under the Torii gate at the entrance to the bazaar. The crisp policeman’s uniforms, trimmed with leopard aprons were impressive. One drummer, a certain Mr. Turnquist, was always super friendly to me and he was my favorite, along with the tall, mustachioed leader with that huge staff. And after their performance, out came the steel drum band – I was hooked!

So, my first ‘season’ in Freeport was warm, sunny, lazy, and filled with exploration. East End, West End, Seagrape, 8 Mile Rock, the harbor, The Fishing Hole, Boss Bird, Marcella’s, Pub On The Mall – so much to take in! School would start in early September, and coming from the U.S. that was an experience, to say the least.

Jeff’s first summer in Freeport was over, but a whole new adventure was about to begin. In his next instalment, he remembers what it was like to start school in this remarkable young city.

Did you grow up in Freeport during those early years? We’d love to hear your memories, too. Share them in the comments below.