A Different Kind of Honeymoon

After my family and friends left the island following our wedding, Joan and I set out on what I have called, “a different kind of honeymoon”! We were already in one of the most beautiful locations on this earth, how could we beat it? We didn’t even attempt to. Instead, we used this time to explore the beautiful Dominican Republic.

Joan’s family hosted a celebration dinner for us at their family home in Gaspar Hernandez and all the neighbours came to wish us well! The food was amazing and the drinks were flowing and there was even some dancing in the street! It was a wonderful time surrounded by my Ortega family and extended family!

From the first time I set foot on the island, however, I had an excursion in mind…one that resorts don’t arrange! You see, my mother’s first cousin, Father Buddy Smith, was a priest with Scarboro Foreign Missions and spent a good chunk of his time in the DR. Father Bud was a character. He was handsome and daring and brave and oh so charming. He told the best stories! And he was always so incredibly interested in the day-to-day lives of every single solitary person he encountered! He would come home to Nova Scotia to visit in the summers and sometimes he’d have a random visitor with him; sometimes it’d be the Bishop of somewhere; other times he was flying solo and, to be honest, I loved those visits the best cause we would get to go off on adventures with him! Whether that was just to the berry field or if it was to visit relatives, he always made it a day filled with laughter! And often that laughter was as a result of his crazy driving!! As he’d spent much of his life driving in the DR, I understand NOW where that was coming from!

One of my favourite Father Buddy stories is the one about the holes in his shoes. No matter how many times it has been told, it never gets old. It shows his bright, shiny soul and how generous and kind and practical he was. You see, he landed home one summer and had holes in the soles of his shoes. His mother, my grand aunt Catherine, lamented the holes and insisted upon buying him a new pair of shoes, despite his protests that the ones he had were just fine! The following summer, Father Buddy landed home again…still wearing the same holey shoes! When asked, what happened to the shoes I got to replace these holey ones? He replied, ah but I met a man who had no shoes, so the holes in mine hardly seemed like a hardship. That’s who he was. Generous to a fault. Everybody loved Father Bud. And there wasn’t a single soul in our entire family that wasn’t touched by his kindness, his compassion or his legacy.

Father Bud passed away in October of 1997 and the world lost one of its brightest lights.

What on earth does any of this have to do with my honeymoon, you ask??? Well, I warned you, it’s a different kind of honeymoon!! I wanted to travel to the places where Father Buddy lived and worked. It was quite far from Joan’s hometown so it was a journey to get there. We left Gaspar Hernandez, with a handful of the neighbourhood boys, and set out for Arcadia, my sister-in-law’s house in Santo Domingo, the capital city of the Dominican Republic, on its south coast. Arcadia’s husband, Freddy, was originally from Bani, the last community in the DR where Father Buddy served. Freddy had agreed to travel with us to Bani to try to find where exactly he had lived and worked. So on a hot Friday morning, Joan and I, 3 of the neighbourhood boys, his sister & brother-in-law and his nieces Maria & Leocardy all piled into the car and set off to explore the province of Peravia! As we drove further and further from the city, the scenery became greener and more lush! The tropical fruit groves lined the highways and the air became a little cooler and more tolerable as well!

Our first stop was at Freddy’s mother’s house for lunch! She was so pleased to see all of us!! We feasted and played a few rounds of dominoes before setting off again! Next stop was Salinas beach…a beautiful white sand beach that we had all to ourselves on this October afternoon! The warm waters of the Caribbean Sea lapped the shores as we played tourist, relaxing and walking the length of the beach. Finally, it was time to head into the heart of the city of Bani. Freddy decided the best thing we could do was to go to the Cathedral in the centre of town and ask the parish priest if he had ever heard of Father Buddy. To be honest, I think the entire carload of people thought we were on a wild goose chase! I mean, how on earth would anyone remember a priest from Nova Scotia who had died 16 years prior?? But, they humoured me. It was, afterall, my honeymoon!

We arrived at the Catedral Nuestra Senora de Regla just in time for the 3pm mass. Last minute parishioners were scurrying across the square while the church bells chimed 3. I was disappointed and a little cross that we’d spent so much time touristing that now we were unable to approach the priest. My new husband, sensing my mood, approached a nun who was rushing to get to mass and asked her, “Excuse me, Sister, but my wife is here from Canada and is wondering if perhaps you’ve ever heard of a priest that used to serve here many years ago, named Father Buddy Smith?” She hurriedly answered no, that she had only been in the DR for about a year. Joan turned to me, shrugged his shoulders and said, “I’m sorry”. The entire group looked at me as if to say, we’re sorry but we didn’t really expect anyone to remember him anyway. Seeing my reaction, Joan approached a second individual, who was also racing to not be too late for mass. “Excuse me, sir, but my wife is here from Canada and she was hoping to find someone that might remember him or find the places where he lived and worked. His name is Father Buddy Smith”. The man stopped in his tracks with a look of shock and awe on his face. Of course he remembered Padre Juan Roberto Smith!!! Seeing me, standing a few feet away, with the group, he ushered over to hug me and introduce himself to me. He immediately abandoned all thoughts of mass and got out his phone to call a man by the name of Victor Rodriguez. Very excitedly he announced to Victor that Padre Juan Roberto’s family was here from Canada, then he climbed into our car to guide us to the Elizabeth Seton Center, founded by Sr. Catherine McGowan, a Sister of Charity and friend of Father Buddy’s. Victor had dropped everything and met us there.

Victor didn’t question why we were there; it was like he knew. We had set out on a quest to discover Padre Juan Roberto…and he was our link to fulfilling that quest! He spent about an hour telling us all about Padre Juan Roberto…how incredibly kind and courageous and generous he was; that he was unbelievably courageous and would stand up for what was right, even in the face of persecution; that he was an amazing friend to all he met and had a way of charming even the hardest of hearts; and that he was such a fine example of a Christian, following in the footsteps of the Saviour, walking the walk.

I remember standing there in the courtyard of the centre, watching the kids play in their after school program, soaking up every word…knowing Padre Juan Roberto had stood where I’m standing; and knowing that he would be so tickled to know that I was there. I felt such a strong connection to my cousin in that moment.

Then Victor suggested we go on a tour! So, back to the car we all went and Victor led the way on his motoconch. Our first stop was at a large baseball stadium; I’ve been to spring training stadiums and to the Skydome in Toronto and this one rivaled them all! A game was in full swing! Victor told us that Padre Juan Roberto used to watch the inner city kids playing baseball in the streets and he would be certain some of them would be able to make it in the big leagues! But what scout was going to come to an inner city game of stickball? In other parts of the country, Dominican players were being scooped up left, right and centre to play in the major leagues! But not in Bani because there was no stadium. Just like in Field of Dreams, Padre Juan Roberto felt like if it was built, the scouts would come! So, he made it his mission to build one! He knocked on doors and fundraised. When Scarboro would bring him home to Toronto each summer, he would go knock on doors in the dressing rooms, telling the professional players that kids in Bani needed a baseball stadium to have the advantages they’d had; and had them fork over donations! He managed to secure the land and then have the stadium built! Victor explained that many professional baseball players from the area directly credit Padre Juan Roberto Smith for their careers, including Miguel Tejada, who was one of the best shortstops in the league during his career. If Padre Juan Roberto had not worked hard to have the stadium built, none of those kids would have had the opportunity to play professionally.

This first stop on our journey brought me to tears…the rest of the day would prove to be even more overwhelming. But in that moment, looking around the stadium, picturing Padre Juan Roberto there in that exact location, helping inner city kids to continue to be kids; and to secure solid futures for themselves…I felt a strong sense of pride for my departed cousin, mingled with sadness at his passing and a tinge of regret that I didn’t know these things about him during his lifetime.

Our next stop was at an outdoor church, La Puerta de la Fe. It resembled a ball field too, but on a much smaller scale!! It was a large, outdoor space, fenced in with an alter and a cross at the front. This was the location of the last mass Padre Juan Roberto ever celebrated in his beloved Dominican Republic. Through tear-filled eyes, Victor told us that by the time of his final mass, it was very difficult to understand Padre Juan Roberto; his illness was so advanced that his words were slurred and his body movements were uncontrolled. Yet people came from miles around for this final mass because they loved and respected this pastor; their friend and champion. My composure left me in this spot and the tears flowed freely. That mixture of pride and sadness overwhelmed me, but there was something else too…I was unable to quite put my finger on what that something else was just yet, however.

Long before I wanted to, we piled back in the car to continue our journey, not knowing what else Victor had in store for us. The next stop was a large school; a school that had cost more than five million dollars to build. To an impoverished neighbourhood in the Dominican Republic, that may as well have been 500 million. But Padre Juan Roberto never seemed to be discouraged…and felt that if you put your mind to it, you could make anything happen! And he did. Victor said that Padre Juan Roberto, through his vast network, was able to raise almost all of that five million dollars himself. Knowing that the way out of poverty required either education or athleticism or both, Padre Juan Roberto devoted his life to providing both to the people of Bani.

I think I need to take a time out to talk about the social era; when Father Buddy became a priest, it was during a time in history when it was exciting to have a priest in the family! Having a relative tending to the spiritual needs of a community was about the highest honour bestowed upon a family. The fact that Father Bud took this show on the road to various places in the world, including his final stop in the DR, was a source of immense pride in and of itself. But to then learn that the spiritual needs were but a tiny fraction of the needs Father Buddy addressed? Leaving the school that day, I thought I had reached the pinnacle of my pride and admiration and respect for this beloved cousin of mine…but there was even more to come.

Our final stop was at a placed called: Club Cultural y Deportivo Juan Roberto Smith. After being regaled with stories of Padre Juan Roberto, seeing the sign as we pulled up, I burst into tears. I knew how much Father Buddy would have loved to see this after school sports club as part of his legacy to the people he loved so much. Victor had, arguably, saved the best for last. Here on this basketball court, came even more stories about Padre Juan Roberto and it became clear that he was more than just a friend to Victor; more than just a fellow social justice warrior; more than just a priest; but a hero. Even today, as I reminisce about that day back in 2013, I can picture the shock and awe on the faces of my dominican family. No one anticipated, not even me, the immense impact Padre Juan Roberto had on the country so to hear story after story about my cousin? Well they, too, were overwhelmed with emotion and maybe understood a little better my intense connection to their island.

With a sweep of his hand, Victor asked, “can you see all these houses, as far as the eye can see?” Of course we could. He said, well in 1979, Hurricane David plowed through this island wiping out all of the homes and infrastructure. Padre Juan Roberto had them rebuilt. People were broken and rendered hopeless by this hurricane and Padre Juan came in and helped them grow whole again…and grow their communities. We in Canada have insurance and government programs or family that could help if we find ourselves in an emergency situation. But not these souls; particularly not in the 70s and 80s. But they did have Padre Juan and that was exactly what they needed.

Something quite surreal happened while Victor was sharing these stories on the basketball court. Word trickled out that Padre Juan Roberto Smith’s family was visiting from Canada and slowly the basketball court started to fill with people, many of whom clutched pictures to share with us. Now remember, this is in a place where many wouldn’t even have pictures of themselves…and it had been 16 years since his passing (could you find 16 year old pictures in your house within minutes to share??? I couldn’t!). The pictures showed Padre Juan Roberto with many of the folks present…and everyone had a story to share. “He built my house”. “He found a way to feed us”. “He made sure my son finished secondary school”. I thought I was overwhelmed earlier in the day…but these people of Bani had found their way to touch my heart in a way I had never felt before. Their gratitude to Father Buddy, passed on to me, and I felt more unworthy than I had ever felt in my life! Here was Father Bud who had literally given his life to help the poor…he LIVED the beatitudes and walked the path of Christ in a way I had never before seen…I was the last person they should be thanking. THEY knew him far better than I did; I simply happened to be related to him! I actually felt a sense of shame that I hadn’t known these things about Father Bud before. But there was still something coming through to my heart that I couldn’t quite put my finger on yet.

Victor ended his Padre Juan Roberto Smith tour by telling us what a visionary he’d been. Visionary. Incredible word and an incredible way of describing what Padre Juan had done for them. Victor said, Padre Juan Roberto was able to see what we as community needed before we ever thought of it; and then make it happen before we could even wrap our heads around it. He single handedly changed the lives of a generation of people in a community far from his home. The admiration and gratitude and respect felt for him, even all these years later, means that every year on the anniversary of his death, they hold a memorial mass in his honour. People gather from all around and they celebrate his life and share his stories. He is a true blue, full blown hero.

We drove back to Santo Domingo in silence, all nine of us still in awe of all we had experienced that day. By the time the city lights were in front of us, everyone was talking, saying how they never in a million years expected we would even find someone who had heard of Father Buddy Smith, let alone find out all we had discovered. It was in that moment that I realized what I was feeling. Yes, I was proud and sad and happy and impressed and filled with admiration and respect. But I was also challenged. I felt challenged to take up the torch; challenged to continue the quest to help the people of the Dominican Republic. If not me, then who? I made a vow to myself that day that someday in the near future, Joan and I would create something that would directly help the people of the Dominican Republic. I didn’t know what it would look like or how it would fall into place…but I caught the torch and planned to hold it high (and stay tuned for how we have begun to fulfill that vow).

The epilogue to this day came once we arrived back in Santo Domingo. Joan’s sister Domini was working that day and unable to travel with us. So we all shared the stories of the day with her and all the pictures! Of course she was as blown away as the rest of us so when her husband, Henri, arrived home, she began to tell him the stories…and we passed the camera to him to see the pictures. Joan had the foresight to take pictures of the pictures the community brought to share with us…and when Henri saw the pictures, with an astonished face looked from Domini to me, saying “but this isn’t possible….???”

As I sit here now, reliving this moment, I’m again brought to tears at the connectivity of it all. I had long felt that Joan and I were connected instantly and that we were meant to be together. And this is the moment I realized just how connected.

Henri asked, “but was he also in San Jose de Ocoa?” another community in the Dominican Republic, about an hour from Bani. I recognized the name, so said yes. Tears filled all of our yes when Henri said, “I remember him; he taught us how to play baseball”.