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Book Review
Local Catholic reflects on 80 years of life in autobiography
By Andrew Junker, The Catholic Sun
March 1, 2007
Most autobiographers wouldn’t claim that their story is ordinary. If they did, they’d be lying.
People wouldn’t take the time to write a story about themselves unless they thought they were special or had something different to offer.
In this light, local Catholic Vincent Collin Beach is a strange breed.
“I’m an ordinary man,” he writes in the preface to his autobiography, “Don’t Throw Away Your Stick Till You Cross the River: The Journey of an Ordinary Man.”
“I didn’t achieve great success by the world’s standards, but I achieved moderate success through hard work, perseverance, and through the blessings of Almighty God and the Father of the universe.”
His writing shows him to be humble, reflective and wise. Happily, the reader doesn’t feel that this was his sole purpose in writing.
In fact, the unselfconscious memoir is a wonderful mix of the ordinary and extraordinary, the familiar and the strange. That’s what makes it something else altogether: oddly compelling.
Vincent Beach was born in Jamaica in 1924. Educated by American nuns, he grew up Catholic. In the first few chapters chronicling his childhood, Beach offers a full and vibrant picture of his homeland.
He takes care to describe his parents. His father, Mas T, was quiet and kind. His mother, Miss Rosa, was a harsh disciplinarian not given to displays of affection.
He rarely saw his parents act lovingly towards each other, or display any sense of closeness, and wonders if this affected his own relationships.
Yet Beach doesn’t blame his parent for his own mistakes. As an 82-year-old writer, his vision is circumspect. He can look upon stretches of his life without rancor, but instead with calm and wisdom.
After his childhood, Beach embarks on a series of sojourns that last the next few decades.
He joins Great Britain’s Royal Air Force during World War II.
After the war he remains in Britain and begins to teach himself how to play the saxophone and flute.
To further his musical ambitions, he immigrates to America, where he finds an oppressive racist atmosphere totally absent across the Atlantic.
Despondent, he returns to England briefly before returning to America, filled with resolve. He joins the armed forces and ends up playing in various Air Force bands for the next 20 years.
He marries. He has four boys in quick succession.
Beach is very frank about his shortcomings with his family.
He states early on that he is an ambitious man who had come from poverty. He worked hard and spent a lot of time away from his wife and children to provide for them.
That was what he thought a father should do. That was what he learned from his family.
He writes about this touchingly and convincingly. The reader believes him when he says he was genuinely surprised when his family unravels.
He realizes the unforeseen consequences of his decisions when his wife files for divorce.
Working far from where his children live in Chandler, he only sees them two weekends a month. Added to this, two of his boys contract lupus.
Beach is best during this section of the book. He writes simple, clear sentences, which propel the story along. At the same time, his prose is moving and honest, and shows a man coming to grips with the successes and failures of his life.
Faith in everyday life
Throughout, Beach always displays a natural and spontaneous belief in God. Prayers of both petition and thanksgiving pepper the book. He remains active in the Church as recently as two years ago, he was a member of the choir at Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish in Queen Creek.
In the book’s last chapter, Beach muses on the effect his “ordinary” life might have on others.
“It is my hope and dream that you, who have read these pages, will have found something useful to enhance your journey in this life,” he writes.
“Through the experiences of others, we can all hopefully learn how to avoid the pitfalls that can make our lives and others unhappy.”
Because of his faith, Beach can look back on his life and see the trials without becoming embittered or regretful. He can look on them and still see the goodness, the gifts that God has brought out from them.
That peace and wisdom is anything but ordinary.
Andrew Junker is a staff writer for The Catholic Sun. Comments are welcome. Send e-mail to letters@catholicsun.org.
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