Jamaican Experiences

Baron reflects on a lifelong bond with his friend Ronnie, who became a brother in every sense. Their shared history began on Cloverly Road, where the McLean family took Baron in, offering him love and belonging when he needed it most. The McLeans’ home became Baron’s refuge, and he eventually moved in with them during high school. Despite differences in their paths—Ronnie becoming a dentist and Baron a professor—their friendship endured, with memories of adventures, like confronting a bully and supporting each other through life’s trials. Baron also highlights Joyce McLean’s unconditional love, which shaped his life profoundly. Through trials and joys, Baron learns the lasting impact of chosen families, deep friendships, and unconditional love, all woven together by the McLeans and his enduring connection with Ronnie.

Through the love of several dogs, a man found the healing and lessons he had longed for in his painful childhood. From Shane, his protector in Jamaica, to Lucky, who helped him through a health crisis, each dog taught him something vital: courage, resilience, joy, and loyalty. His bond with Little Lucky embodied pure happiness, while Spike’s deep devotion revealed the true meaning of loyalty. Each loss left a lasting impact, but the love these dogs gave reshaped his soul. They taught him how to love unconditionally, and their lessons stay with him forever.

He began commuting from the Bronx to Rockland County, living apart from his wife Lennette to pursue his teaching career and studies. When their marriage unraveled under the weight of distance and unspoken truths, he moved into the mansion of Cipe Pineles Burtin—an iconic designer and his unlikely mentor. In her home, he found both refinement and refuge. It was the end of a marriage, but the beginning of a transformation. From obligation to independence, from confusion to clarity—this chapter was a turning point, where the personal and professional collided, and life began to reshape itself.

In the fall of 1974, he boarded a bus from the Bronx to Congers, New York, surrounded by West Indian housekeepers and gardeners. He was one of them—and yet not. He was a math teacher headed to Rockland Country Day School, defying expectations shaped by his humble beginnings. At RCDS, he wasn’t just a teacher; he was a symbol of Black professionalism in a world unaccustomed to it. The experience opened doors, reshaped lives, and became a turning point that led to IBM and beyond. His message endures: brilliance lives everywhere—it only needs the chance to shine.

Teaching at Rockland Country Day School transformed him. Beloved by students, he taught math, coached soccer, and brought Jamaican culture to their world. But a dinner with one student’s wealthy family revealed the stark contrasts between his upbringing and theirs. When he chewed chicken bones, a beloved custom from his youth, the room fell silent. Embarrassed but undeterred, he chose not to retreat, but to grow. That moment became a powerful metaphor in his teaching and speaking: true change comes through discomfort. By embracing the unfamiliar, he turned outsider status into insight—and showed others how to do the same.

On the brink of earning his PhD, he faced a life-altering blow: Lennette lost her job, shaking their fragile stability. Trying to hold things together, he overcommitted—working, studying, and pushing forward without consulting her. Years later, she revealed she would have found another job if he had only asked. Their bond, once rooted in mutual support, had quietly frayed. When she asked him, “How would you feel if you had sex with someone else?” it forced him to confront the pain he’d caused. That rupture led him to Rockland Country Day School—where purpose met passion, and loss gave way to reinvention.

In his second year of graduate school, a new office in Stony Brook’s gleaming math tower became a sanctuary for transformation. There, he met Lorretta Gerardi—a wise office mate who guided him through the maze of advanced mathematics. She urged him to move beyond memorization toward deep understanding. While Algebra and Topology came easily, Real and Complex Analysis challenged him deeply. With his department chair’s mentorship, he learned to simplify complexity and rebuild it into clarity. On exam day, his nerves gave way to mastery. Years later, that same mentor welcomed him back, proving that true learning is a patient, supported journey.

In 1972, he entered Stony Brook’s PhD program in mathematics, quickly overwhelmed by advanced concepts and brilliant peers. Seeking confidence, he excelled at tennis and chess, and found comfort in reggae parties and a small Jamaican community. At the same time, his marriage to Lennette was unraveling—she held onto Manhattan while he embraced new beginnings. A creative barter—tennis lessons for math mentorship—helped him pass his exams. But the distance between him and Lennette grew irreversible. Her remark, “I wouldn’t speak to you now,” revealed the truth: without shared dreams and values, love fades. Growth often means choosing to let go.

In 1973, Baron returned to Jamaica, inspired by a friend’s glowing tales of Negril. Though born in Kingston, he felt like a stranger in his homeland. After a chaotic journey, including a strike and a tense plane standoff, he arrived in Montego Bay and faced identity confusion—looked like a tourist, spoke like a local. Discrimination followed, but so did kindness. He eventually found lodging with Miss Mary, a warm woman offering simplicity and safety. As reggae played and the sunset glowed, Baron stood between two worlds—tourist and native—searching for a sense of belonging in the land he once called home.

Baron’s time at Washington Business Institute in New York was shaped by the need for student visas, not genuine academic interest. Arrogant and dismissive at first, he was humbled by New York’s realities, learning the value of work, regardless of its prestige. His adventures, often involving women, also led to close calls with danger, like muggings and a near-death subway accident. Despite these challenges, he cherished his relationships, especially with Fay Wright, a Jamaican beauty. Although he rejected her, later reflecting it was a mistake, he realized the wisdom of following his heart over rigid advice, leading to eventual fulfillment.

Baron arrived in New York in the late 1960s, hopeful yet unprepared for the brutality of racism. From a discriminatory doctor to being harassed by police, his experiences shaped his resolve. Despite the challenges, including being overlooked in a Super Bowl celebration, he never let hatred break his spirit. Even as a college professor, suspicion followed him, highlighting America’s racial divisions. After relocating to Portugal, Baron found a reprieve from overt racism. His journey taught him to stay calm, walk with dignity, and embrace love over bitterness, understanding that resilience in the face of hate is the ultimate victory.

Baron reflects on his arrival in America in the summer of 1966, leaving behind Kingston College and his first love, Molly. He moved to the Bronx with his mother, Griselda, and her partner, Mr. Brown. While America represented opportunity, the reality was different from his expectations, filled with racism and discrimination. Working as an elevator operator in Manhattan, Baron faced personal tragedy when Ronnie had to return to Jamaica due to unexpected fatherhood. His mother's devotion to his well-being, even in the face of systemic racism, was profound. Though America provided opportunities, Baron always considered Jamaica his true home.

Baron reflects on how winning a scholarship to Kingston College (KC) in 1959 shifted the course of his life, leading him away from his father’s plan for him to become a farmer. KC introduced him to a world of possibilities, offering a rigorous education and a sense of belonging. His friends, Fowler and Trevor, shaped his academic journey—Fowler with his street-smart leadership and Trevor with his disciplined study habits. Baron’s time in the KC Cadet Band, though marked by a missed opportunity, further exemplified his growth. KC instilled confidence, discipline, and lifelong friendships, influencing his success and shaping his future.

Baron reflects on how winning a scholarship to Kingston College (KC) transformed his life. Attending KC provided him with focus, self-esteem, and a sense of purpose. Surrounded by middle- and upper-class peers, he gained respect and the opportunity to thrive academically. The school's strict discipline, including the possibility of caning, taught him the value of accountability. Key figures like Mr. Crick, Althea Young, and Douglas Forrest mentored him, shaping his character and love for subjects like mathematics and physics. KC instilled pride, resilience, and a belief in his potential, laying the foundation for his future success.

Baron reflects on his lifelong love for dogs, beginning with Shane, a protective companion during his childhood in Jamaica. Later, in California, Lucky became his running partner after a diabetes diagnosis, representing loyalty and resilience. Baron’s connection with Lucky’s puppies, including Little Lucky and Spike, taught him valuable lessons—joy, love, and loyalty. Spike, with his mischievous nature and deep devotion, stood out, particularly when he overcame his fear of water to stay close to Baron. Through each dog, Baron learned about courage, loyalty, and companionship, finding in them not just pets but family and lasting comfort.

At five years old, he was left at the airport by his mother, an act that scarred him for decades. Raised in Kingston, Jamaica, by his father and in a boarding house, he endured a childhood of abandonment, neglect, and rebellion. Through the chaos, dogs like Shane and Lucky became his protectors and emotional anchors. His life was shaped by moments of loss, love, survival, and resilience—from surviving Hurricane Charlie to fleeing emotional isolation for a new home. Ultimately, his journey reveals how early pain shaped his identity and how compassion, connection, and courage helped him heal and grow.

Baron’s lifelong love affair with BMWs mirrors his journey through freedom, identity, and loss. From his first 2002 to a string of 3-Series, each car marked a chapter—graduate school, marriage, heartbreak, and near tragedy. Accidents, thefts, and even a car bombing seemed to curse his beloved vehicles. Eventually, he found peace in a Mercedes-Benz, leaving the chaos of BMWs behind. But the pull remained. Now, older and wiser, he returns—this time in a Mini, seeking closure or maybe rebirth. It’s a story about machines, meaning, and how the things we drive can end up driving us.

He was a visionary at IBM—driven by ideas, not titles. Innovation came naturally, and for a time, every spark he lit turned to gold. But success bred overconfidence, and one bold decision brought an entire building’s systems crashing down. Still, his manager, John, didn’t punish him—instead, he offered quiet grace and trust. That failure became one of his greatest teachers. Over time, he learned that some lead by vision, others by execution—and both are essential. Though often denied credit, especially as a Black man in corporate spaces, he never stopped creating. Because for him, the spark was always worth it.

For most of his life, he believed he was invincible—thin, active, and untouched by the health struggles that plagued his mother. But at 45, diabetes came for him, without warning. From emergency room chaos in Whittier to passing out on a beach in Negril and collapsing in a Japanese restaurant, his journey became a series of wake-up calls. Each crisis taught him something new—especially about alcohol, which he has since abandoned. Today, he manages his diabetes with vigilance, humor, and discipline. He understands now: survival isn’t luck. It’s responsibility. And every day is a choice to stay awake and aware.

After two years at IBM, a young Jamaican man set off to explore the world, inspired by his former teacher’s dreams and the generosity of his surrogate mother, Cipe. From London’s historic charm to Paris’s romantic energy, his first European adventure—shared partly with a suave British friend—opened his eyes to beauty, culture, and a sense of belonging beyond borders. A simple trip became a transformation. Over the next two decades, travel reshaped his worldview—from Kingston-centric to global citizen. He stood beneath the Sistine Chapel, walked Paris’s boulevards, and ultimately made Europe home, never losing touch with his Jamaican roots.