I thought that I had conquered the mosquito. That was until I found a giant bite in the center of my forehead. Damn mosquito. Today I tried to visit Fort Frederick but found it terribly unattended. It’s apparently going through renovations (but it was supposed to still be open.) I also found the baptismal records for a certain Edward Brunstoff (BTW my family name is Brunstoff, its Danish) We found him in the 1855 census as a 6 year old, to the father of Frederik Brunstoff and Nancy Brunstoff. First I went to the Lutheran Church (because he was Lutheran) and found that their records only go back to 1874. I was referred to the local libraries “Caribbean Collection” (birth, death, baptismal, and marriage records). After an hour of looking through micro film documents I found him. He was listed as Edward Bonstaff (so far I’ve come across at least seven variations on the spelling of Brunstoff) but based on his mother and father being the same Nancy and Frederick I surmised that this was the right person.
It’s amazing how impermanent everything is. Everyone feels as though they are contributing something in this world and that they are very much real and existing. But a hundred and fifty years later all that remains of your existence is your name on a copy of a document. That’s if you’re lucky. If your record hasn’t been destroyed in a fire or a hurricane you may be one of those whose name was written in the bottom of the census record that has crumbled away before it got copied onto micro film, or you could be the unlucky person who is lost in the shadow of the binding, or scrawled in illegible handwriting. I mean Edward Brunstoff was an actual person he had likes and dislikes. He had relationships, thoughts, opinions, beliefs, clothes, and a childhood; he was a person. Now all we know about him is his name, birth date, his religion, his parents names and religions and his descendants names. I’m okay with leaving a name as proof of my existence but I never want it to be lost. I don’t want to be lost in time. Despite time reclaiming everything else I want to be timeless.
The brush of St Croix reclaims everything. Old Danish structures are lost in a carpet of vines and pink flowers. Abandoned trucks are taken over by trees and every once in a while you can spot a horse in the brush. A couple days ago I was waiting for a taxi and looked into the brush. Squinting I could barely make out a house and a truck in its driveway. I like that. It’s like everything is being enveloped by the earth. Driving in St. Croix’s back roads the road is sunken below the ground somewhat and that combined with the rain forest and brush it feels as though you’re driving through a tube. The trees cover overhead and a path is cut away so that cars can get through. It’s the land extent of how it would feel going through the Chunnel if its walls were glass. As if were just beings passing through something that we cant tame and would crush us in a minute if we piss it off.
I went swimming today. It was really relaxing. Because of the salt water I was more buoyant so I floated on my back, reclined with my head resting in my hands. I didn’t want my feet to make contact with the sand because I was afraid of stepping on an urchin. I was surprised how many conch shells there were. In side I gathered a few and found little conch fish things in them. It was pretty cool. Conch is a delicacy in St. Croix and because its slightly endangered due to tourists collecting their shells, its kind of hard to find. When you think about it conch is the sea equivalent to snails and snails are slugs without shells... gross. As I was floating my great aunt called out to me. I spun around and to see pelicans dive bombing fish ten feet away from me. It was pretty cool.
