Saturday, 23 May 2020 15:26

"What happened to Eric 'Pat' Cash?" Featured

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Eric Patrick Cash - Avatar, handsome inside and out with a magnetic personality! Eric Patrick Cash - Avatar, handsome inside and out with a magnetic personality!

Post updated Friday 23th June 2020 11:48

Sample Chapters of book two Dilly Trilogy

Part one - What happened to Pat Cash

Part two - "The Man Soon Dead."

  In Celebration of Eric Patrick Cash

Homecoming Service

 

++++++++++++++++

 

 What happened to Pat Cash?

 Everyone is asking what happened. Here is the medical report of sorts.

Around April 5th a nation-wide shut-down of shopping stores & public transport took place.

Panic buying ensued. Everything was on sale. People bought more than they intended because who knew how long the shut-down would be?

We did not have a car and although Eric Cash is eldest son of 12 siblings, none of them ever checked in on him to see how elder brother was doing or to see if he needed anything. He had one sister who faithfully called him every year on his birthday but the rest seemed estranged from him for untold or unknown reasons. The primary reason seemed to be disappointment that he was poor, they weren’t and he could not help them get richer. But the real reason was he was forced by an absentee father to be the heavy/disciplinarian brother who raised them and they resented it. Whenever he asked them for help they made him feel unwelcome and so he got used to relying on himself.

He was one of so many many people who stood in line in the hot sun for hours to get into stores, taking heavy bags home on foot.

With no family to call on for a ride and his only friend battling a debilitating sinus infection, compounded with public transportation being shut down, this 70 year old man began a 2 mile trek home.

He had stuffed bags in each hand and an additional gunny sac strapped to his chest and back. He walked carrying more than 50lbs of basic food supplies: potatoes, canned goods, peanut butter, yogurt, vegetables, frozen meat etc. The bottles and cans rubbing against his rib cage with every step.

He got home exhausted but never complained. He had been very worried that the shutdown would exacerbate the ongoing social and political victimization we endured. He would go to extremes to protect and provide for his family so that we did not suffer being between two hard rocks and two hard places.  

The next day we saw him bent over in his computer workstation chair. We asked him to lie down. He was reluctant but Mother prevailed and he went to bed to rest.

Still, he was uncomfortable, so we asked if we could elevate his feet on a pillow to take the pressure off his back. He agreed.

20 minutes later he was in deep pain in the upper right abdomen. At the time he/we assumed it was from the shopping weight on his rib cage. We assumed it was a muscle/rib cage injury. We made him promise that when the stores opened again he would always take a small trolly with him and he agreed.

 

Week One

The first week he had to take aspirin several times a day and lie down for several hours.

Sometimes if the pain was worse during the day he would take ibuprofen so he could sleep at night.

We rubbed liniment on his ribs and applied hot water bottles to stop the pain which attacked him twice per day and at night. He/we did NOT get much sleep.

 

Week Two

The second week he would do the same thing but stayed in bed all day except to eat. He had feverish dreams and terrible sweats and blamed the painkillers.

We continued to call at least three doctors but none would see him. He wanted to see a doctor he could trust and but this doctor’s clinic was shut down.

 

Week Three

The third week he asked a friend to recommend a doctor to suggest the right painkiller for a simple ribcage injury and this Dr. McCartney recommended “CATAFLAN”.

The first day he took “CATAFLAN” he felt better, was pain free, got better rest and seemed to be recuperating but he no longer had an appetite, When we insisted he eat something he had to eat in bed. Soon he needed a bedpan. His urine was orange.

But by day two the feverish sweats came back and the painkiller was no longer effective. We had to rub him down with icy water/cool cloth. He became feverish, panting and suffered delirium, talking in numbers and to people who weren’t there.

So we stopped him taking any drugs. The pain returned and now night sweats and delirium with swollen feet and calves, plus he could not get up or walk unaided.

His speech slurred even when he was not delirious. He usually has perfect diction and booming broadcasters voice. In fact he has a degree in Communications and broadcasting. He was losing his faculties. We were at our wits end.

He suffered bouts of belches & hiccups three and four times daily.

He urinated maybe every 6-8 hours. It was always dark orange no matter how much water he drank.

His breathing was generally rapid, more than 20 breaths per minute

We dove into online research, trying to figure out what to do. According to internet research we thought he might have kidney or liver symptoms, and no, he won’t go to hospital for several reasons:

  1. He thinks his age will automatically make him a Covid stat. The joke was, you walk into the hospital with a broken leg and you get listed as Covid. The cynicism was based on the assumption that medical facilities had to have a certain quota of cases in order to receive funding. He was not about to be anyone’s stat. This was a valid concern.
  2. Levels of social and political victimization we experienced over decades made him reluctant to go. He felt he had too many unknown enemies who appeared to want him dead. He was not wrong. Several powerful, decadent people, male, female, black and white had, on being spurned, told him over the years that he would “never work in this town again” or that he had “better watch his back!” Those who attempted to help him found themselves and their offspring under the same threat. They either suffered dirty looks, veiled threats, and direct threats, got demoted from their jobs or maybe they just suddenly had legal trouble, smearing their good name. People who were enthusiastic to work with him one day, would not return his phone calls the next. It was apparently a secret war campaign against him and he was determined to protect his family from that.

Because he could not urinate without help and is often mentally confused, we really needed a doctor’s opinion to care for this previously hale & hearty man. We kept calling clinics but they were not open. We soldiered on as the weeks passed. Then it seemed in early May liquor stores opened. We had been keeping track of the news but we are two women fighting an ongoing battle with an unfathomable enemy. Over the weeks none of his family inquired after him. If they had we might have gotten some help before it was too late. We could not contact them as only one sister was listed on his PC which broke down after week 3.

We were not equipped to diagnose nor handle any of this. First his liver, then his kidneys, then swollen glands. It seemed as through when we got a grip on one ailment another would show up unexpectedly.

We also went through many yo-yo states where for two or three days he seemed to be recuperating fast only to slide into a worse state again. We lost track of time and dates and became more and more exhausted.

By the 19th of May we finally made an appointment to see Dr. P. Whitfield on the following Thursday 21st of May 2020. Dr. Whitfield had told us over the phone that he could not help Dada unless he had blood work done. So we called our friend to take him to Premier Labs the following day.

But by 4 pm he seemed worse and so our daughter opted to text his friend, telling him to bring an ambulance now and ride to hospital with him. She was afraid to go with him herself as Nassau was extremely hostile to her and her parents. The friend texted back that he was way out to Cable Beach and might not get there until 6 pm. That was fine. She decided pick out Dada’s clothes while Mother cooled him off.  He was going to hospital tonight Tuesday 19th May 2020. She was going to save his life, enemies be damned!

But when she started to dress him and told him about the coming ambulance he became angry and distressed. She told him she did not care about the previous lab appointment if it meant him dying before Thursday’s appointment. He was very commanding and refused to go. Then he developed hard hiccups and not wanting to further upset him she cancelled the ambulance and we spent the evening calming him down.

We texted our friend to bring a gurney for his blood work appointment so he would not have to walk, but the next day after keeping him cool with a cold compress and making sure he got a lot of rest he woke up surprisingly normal. His voice was strong. He did not slur his words and the swelling on his feet had gone down half way. He decided against our advisement that he did not need a gurney. He was concerned about the expense as we do not have money and he supports us through part time work. That morning he brushed his own teeth and gave instructions on finding out how much the blood work would cost. He was telling us what clothes he wanted to wear. He seemed in charge again, if but a little tired.

We spoon fed him a half cup of split pea soup and he took a nap.

Our ride could not take him that morning as he had errands to run. This friend, who had earlier struggled with a debilitating sinus infection had, during the previous weeks, stalwartly delivered groceries to us.

Aside from Dr. Whitfield he was the only man Dada trusted.

He showed up near noon but by then Eric was sweating profusely, panting and we had to cool him down again.

It took three of us to help him barely make it to the bus. He stopped to rest on some bricks by the fence.

We live in a criminally infested neighborhood. Drugs and gunrunning on one side, human trafficking and prostitution of the other. These sub humans surrounding our home were all politically connected. They were part of a cartel of sorts and knew that they could get away with whatever they wanted. They had thrown garbage, dead conch shells and human waste in our yard. They were big on loud persistent intimidation and sexual harassment. We women were big on ignoring and avoiding them at all cost, even at the cost of our domestic freedom. This meant we could not work in our garden or read a book under a tree or else we would be stalked. Basically it means we can't come out of the house. They killed our dogs and surrounded our home every day from 8 am to 3 am for years and years.

We had the misfortune of living next door to a guy who used his business as a personal hang out spot for various criminal types. They casually talk about rape and robbery the way men talk about sports.  We lived under siege in a constant stalemate, having to hide from them in order to avoid being targeted or used as a weapon against others. Our blinds and curtains were constantly closed even in 90 degree heat because they used to bring people to our bedroom windows to watch us napping. They treated us like humans trapped in a zoo run by animals. It was hard to avoid their constant attempts at exploitation. We had to look over our shoulder to hang up laundry because once they saw you they would lay in wait for you and stalk/harass you and then bring their friends. Dada was outnumbered 20-1 without their social, legal and political protection.

Now we had a sick man by the fence. Although we did not feel safe, we were about to give Dada water and parasol shade to rest more but he waved that away and reached for the gate two feet from him. He wanted to get on the bus.

We helped him to his feet and he began to walk again. We guided his steps up the bus landing.

The bus was cool and air conditioned. We thought we had made it. He managed after a moments rest to adjust himself on the seat. We struggled to get his legs out of range of the closing bus door.

We tried to get him to lean back on the seat but it was then that he fell all the way back across two seats grimacing and gasping for air.

Our friend Jerry Moss called 911 and after much back and forth time wasting on the operators part he (the operator) finally told us no ambulance was in our area. He advised we turn Dada on his left side and take him to hospital and so we did at break neck speed. Mother, who was suffering from exhaustion after helping him into the bus and screaming at the operator elected to stay home.

When we reached Doctors Hospital our friend Jerry got out to get a gurney. Eric Cash had a faint pulse and was still grimacing every twenty seconds.

His daughter begged/commanded him to live in Christ’s name. The gurney did not come for a long time and she was tempted to find out why but refused to leave his side.

When the gurney arrived orderlies told her to get out of the way and she did. Two of them picked him up but the guy holding his torso dropped him and he landed hard on his seat on the bus step landing.

“You dropped HIM?!” she screamed rushing back to get him as they tried to lift him up into the gurney, but his leg was dangling. She picked up his leg. The orderlies told her to get out of the way again and they all rushed to the emergency room, her hand on his heart the whole time, praying.

Once in the emergency room she was told to leave and it seemed to take forever before they called the code workers, who unlike the ER TV show were not running in. They seemed to saunter by taking their time and so precious seconds were lost.

By then coordinators and nurses questioned her, registering him into Doctors Hospital. They wanted a $2,500.00 down payment! They were charging her $5,000.00 per night plus doctors expenses. By the next day the charge was a whopping $20,000.00

All she had in her pocket was $250.00 for clinical expenses.  She could see them performing CPR on Dada through the crack between the doors in ER room. Later on she heard a beep from a machine. She had a faint glimmer of hope that they had saved him.

To be continued. Immigrant neighbor overheard saying "Don't worry, the man soon dead."

 

+++

 

Part Two - "The Man soon dead."

They took our daughter to an office at hospital. Although she told them she did not work or earn any money they wanted her father’s credit card information. She gave them what she remembered and promised to fill out the rest of the info the next day. She feared that if she did not comply, they would not serve him, but leave him out at the curb.

The ER doctor, Dr. Turnquest came forward asking to speak with her. He was very nice and soothing, taking our daughter to hospital chapel and gently explaining how they worked on him for 18 minutes. How his heart restarted on its own but he could not breathe on his own. He asked her to recount the story of what happened just before we brought Dada to hospital and listened very attentively. The doctor praised her for being calm and doing all she could. He said other doctors would speak with her who knew more about her father’s condition.

Later an ICU doctor, Dr. Darville sat her down and explained at length that Dada's potassium levels were too high and his sodium levels too low (he walks long distances for everything because we don’t have a car so of course he was missing vital salts.) They also said he was suffering from kidney failure (swelling of feet, orange urine etc.). They told her they would balance this out and put him on dialysis to purify his blood all in the hope he might regain consciousness.

Our daughter stayed at the hospital until 5:30 pm calling her mother every other hour.

Then she called many people but only his adopted son Jerry came to take her home. While waiting she saw a friend of her father’s and his wife entering the hospital. She introduced herself and somehow while explaining the situation to them, she broke down and cried. They told her that she and her father were in their prayers.

Later at home at 8 pm Dr. Duane Sands called, put us on speakerphone in a conference call with other doctors. They wanted vocal consent to remove fluid from his left lung. We consented thinking this would be the solution to getting him back home.

The next day we called ICU at 6 am wanting to know his status but no one could tell us anything except that he was still alive. The nurse said she would give the attending doctor our mobile number as he had already done rounds and had already seen to Dada.

Other calls were coming in from the few friends he had and so, some calls from the hospital were missed.

We waited hours for an update of Dada’s condition.

But the only one to call us for the next few hours was a finance woman from the hospital wanting his credit card information which we gave them. She was telling us we needed to pay a whopping $20,000 for his treatment so far. They charged $5,000 per night plus doctors expenses. Then Dr. Sands people called to tell us we are charged $1,800 for the lung drainage.

By noon Dr. Darville, the ICU doctor called us with an unbelievable diagnosis. He told us that they had done a cat scan and determined that Dada's body was riddled with cancer. Every organ was effected, heart, lungs, liver, kidney and that it was end stage cancer. They could not source where it came from.

Another issue was his brain. He was under for more than 5 minutes before they revived him. They think he sustained brain damage and was not likely to ever regain consciousness. He was in coma.

His attending doctor, Dr. Deveau then called saying he could not get through to us earlier. He confirmed what the ICU doctor said.

This was devastating news we were not prepared for. Another doctor called to say that his breathing had deteriorated. He needed a 4 cylinder respirator instead of 2 cylinders. The machine was doing all the breathing for him. His prognosis was dire.

The attending doctor then called again and wanted to speak to us about a DNR or “do not resuscitate” order. We barely had time to recover from all this bad news and now we faced his immanent death.

He would never return home, we would never hear his voice again. After yesterday’s hope, it was all too much, too soon.

By late afternoon yet still another doctor, this time a neurologist called to confirm the news about brain damage saying that his brain waves would rise, crest and then fall which is consistent with brain damage. He encouraged us to consent to a DNR because there was no point in sustaining a body that could not breathe and would not regain consciousness. We had to think of his dignity.

This was true, we all knew, but we were still reeling.

It was Thursday evening when we called his sister Sandrea, the one who loves him, the one who wished him happy birthday just a month before over the phone. Because his PC had broken down (yet another bad omen) we had to find her on social media.

She called us and soon were in conference with 4 or 5 of his sisters. One of them angrily wanted to know why they were just finding all of this out. They appeared to not care that we had been alone, nursing a man who did not know he was even sick with cancer. They were oblivious to how exhausted we were. Our daughter wanted to know why we had not heard from them all these years, for if we had we might have had more voices of reason giving advice. This sister who complained had cancer herself and might have recognized the symptoms for us. He might still be fully alive. Soon a row broke out. Our daughter apologized to this sisters. Sandrea tried to make peace to no avail, repeating to her angry sisters, “This is not the time for that.”

She was right. Everyone calmed down. But then the phone connection was lost and we did not hear from them until much later when they said they went to hospital to see him but were not permitted unless we signed them in.

We called the attending doctor to find out about this but he said that was not true. Strict Covid-19 rules made their visit impossible. If they wanted to see him they had to appeal to the hospital CEO or Chief Medical Officer.

Meanwhile he wanted to have a family meeting with us in the morning with all or most of the doctors to discuss the DNR.

We called his sisters back to let them know about calling the CMO and the pending family meeting at hospital. We instructed them to meet us at the hospital at 9 am Friday 22nd May 2020.

The next morning, to our shock, they did not show up! At the meeting the doctors all introduced themselves. Two women attended as well and they all explained the situation about astronomical medical bills and the indignity of artificially keeping him alive, how he was deteriorating at a faster rate, etc.

We understood it more than they knew. Dada had always vehemently expressed how he would never want to be on life support. He never feared death, having seen it up close in childhood. As a nine year old visiting relatives in Miami he witnessed a man being shot point blank. As a child, he saw spirits of people who had died and held a firm belief in life after death. He had Christ in his heart and knew heaven was much better than this awful place called Earth. We knew he would rather be in Heaven with God and Christ than in a hospital hell.

We left with the understanding that we had to make a decision by the end of the day. We talked to a nurse about it, wanting to make sure that in issuing a DNR he did not linger needlessly in the state he was in, nor experience an emergency attack. We did not want him to suffer, just quietly slip away. She told us that if we included in the DNR that his blood pressure no longer be artificially or chemically sustained then he would be able to go quietly without suffering.

We tried to involve his sisters in the decision but they were still incommunicado. In fact, we still heard nothing from then until a day later when they asked what Mother had decided.

By late Friday evening after much prayer and meditation, Mother made the decision to set Dada free from a brain damaged body. She consented over the phone with the attending doctor to a DNR.

Our daughter asked if we needed to have a funeral home selected before issuing the DNR but the doctor assured her that they would cross that bridge when they got to it.

We had lost all hope.

By 11:24 that night Dada’s nurse called to ask if the attending doctor had called us but he had not. She said he was supposed to as our Dada had passed away about 20 minutes ago. We were heartbroken that he was gone and yet relieved that his soul had been set free from a body which would no longer serve him.

The nurse now wanted to know about the funeral home because, to our surprise, Doctors Hospital does not have a morgue.

What?! A hospital without a morgue? That’s like a bar without a bathroom. It was 11:35 pm and we were still exhausted. We had not eaten. We felt helpless and alone. We had lost a husband and father and were now more than $20,000 in debt overnight!

We had to lean on Daniel Moss who recommended East Sunrise Mortuary. They were gentle on the price and would carry out Dada’s wishes to be cremated.

Later the next day we asked his sisters (who expressed their condolences) if they would help with the obituary. They agreed but over the next 24 hours were incommunicado again. We might be talking or texting one minute and then their phone would disconnect. No callback or text. No response to our many texts and calls. When we did reach them, out of frustration we asked them not to flake out on us in our hour of need. That we needed to be better coordinated if we were going to plan his funeral right.

Their ringleader became angry, irrational telling us that we were going off on a tangent. She promptly hung up, texted us to say “stop judging” her and she would get someone else to talk to us. As of this writing we still have heard nothing from any of them. They have abandoned us.

 

Duane, one Dada’s brothers in Miami called. He helped us with the obituary and we appreciated him for that. We just wanted to get everyone’s name right.

Dada’s daughter Erika, who lives in the Cayman Islands with her family, was also instrumental in helping us via her staunch emotional support and prayers.

We have been thinking about the cancer diagnosis. It is confusing how Dada could seem so healthy one day and then just deteriorate week after week.

Our memory goes back to a year ago when the human trafficking neighbors next door dumped 3 dead conch shells in our yard. Dada knew vodun­­­ when he saw it. He did not touch the rotten conch shells as he knew that the “white powder” of vodun­­­ lore was really a paralytic made from ground up puffer fish, amongst other things.

 

But we were three people living in our house. Each conch shell was meant for each of us. The boat immigrants next door used to speak disparagingly of Dada because he ignored the females advances. They would complain about “The man this and the man that.” They always talked about our property, our house, what we had in it (remember they are always snooping) what they would do with it if it was theirs. Sometimes their Bahamian son-in-law  would tell them our house was not their business, and that they, especially the children, should stop “watching people.” But these immigrants have no sense of boundaries. Soon after finding the conch shells the criminal mother of the family complained about Dada to her adult son (also a criminal) who assured her “Don’t worry, the man soon dead.”

At first we thought it was just maliciousness. But now with his cancer diagnoses, we wonder if his  sudden deterioration had something to do with those vodun conch shells and the garbage they throw in our yard; which he would not pick up for the same reason. It might be infected with evil spirits. Our daughter developed a tumour in her body and Mother has tumor like bumps on her legs.

Another factor is pollution. Both neighbors on either side of our home operate as a hack shop. They are always spray painting some vehicle. The jitney yard next door sprayed buses about every 6 months. But the boat immigrants next door spray cars two and three times and day, two and three time per week through use of the jitney yard’s tools.

The smell is horrible. We have to wear masks in our house and shut all the windows several times a day. We can even see the paint residue on the leaves of our trees.

But as we said, they are apparently politically connected, and so they get away with spraying chemicals in their front yard where there are vulnerable children (even constant newborns), animals, plants and neighbors. The east wind blows that paint straight into our homes and we cannot escape from it.

This is what happens when there is no zoning. Nice normal people end up living next door to criminals living above their means operating machine shops and other nefarious scams while pretending to be a family household.

We wonder, if vodun is not the cause of the cancer, is not the constant exposure to car spray toxins the cause?

Is this what immigration is all about? People from another country illegally entering the country, throwing vodun disguised as garbage in your yard, spraying toxic chemicals through your house. Conniving on your property with the help of sexually involved collaborating Bahamians?

Dada told us when he saw them send one of their children to stealthily put something in a neighbor’s garbage, who lived across the street. The child ran when she saw Dada spot her. The neighbor was dead within a year.

And now Dada is dead.

How was a Bahamian man supposed to deal with this when they had more leverage than he did in his own country?

 

+++

 In Celebration of Eric Patrick Cash

The soul of Eric “Pat” Patrick Cash left his body at 22:00 / 11 PM on Friday, 22 May 2020 in Nassau, The Bahamas.

He passed away after responding to the Covid-19 panic shopping, carrying too heavy a load with no public transportation available. The canvas gunny sacks he carried over his shoulder injured his ribs and internal organs. The lock-down quarantine prevented him from accessing diagnosis and treatment in time to save his life or prolong his life.

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He is survived by wife Helen, two daughters Erika and Ngozi and a son Akin.

He is survived by four brothers Duane, Ronnie, Gregory and Earl;

He is survived by eight sisters: Paula, Angela, Georgina, Sandrea, Magdalena, Sonia, Jennifer and Cheryl.  

He is survived by three grandchildren: Gail, 15.  Ari, 13 and Deanne, 4.

Pat was born in Nassau, the Bahamas on 8th April 1950 to Alberta Cecilia, nee’ Pettee and Eric B. Cash, Sr., musician in the Louie Adams band at the Lyford Cay Club.

He learned academics from his mother, formerly a school teacher who was ready for college by 15.

He learned music from his father, a composer and hotel musician who volunteered piano lessons to poor children.

He learned business from an industrious aunt “Lala” whose shop supplied local community needs.

He learned manly arts and practical skills from his boat building “uncle ‘Mon.”

He learned spirituality and philosophy from priests and teachers at Our Lady’s and at St. Augustine’s College.

When times were hard and hotels were closed he worked jobs to help finance his siblings’ education. He always gave money to his mother who distributed it out amongst her children.

He was a handsome, brave, athletically gifted young man with a booming voice, infectious laugh and a brilliant, fearlessly inquisitive mind. Sisters at his primary school recognized he was a “big fish in a small pond.”

In 1969 Eric graduated as “Head Boy” from Saint Augustine’s College, Fox Hill Bahamas,

In 1973, Pat earned a Mass Communications degree at Marquette University, Milwaukee, WI, United States.

He interned at TV stations in Milwaukee. He worked at and received an offer from CBS Network to be news floor Director in New York. But, he turned that down, choosing to return home instead to build “a culturally rich Bahamas.”


+++

Eric worked many jobs for short periods of time and seemed to live a lifetime of “victimization.” Pat discovered that “true Bahamians” know of this.

He said that his soul thrived with a rare condition he named VEP / Values-Virtues-Ethics-Principles that would not allow his brain, mind and body to “bend down.” He soldiered on and for love of country wrote proposals for selfless Bahamians who discovered as he did that good ideas are often “t’iefed” and good jobs awarded to inept, “broke backs” and favourites.

As many duty oriented, TRUE Bahamians before him, he felt that he “never received power to oversee improvements.”

The few opportunities he had was carrying out his proposal to reorganize the Botanical Gardens and the Produce Exchange.

His LRU/Learning Resource Unit stint allowed welcome creative expression.  There he wrote proposals for, directed, produced and hosted his own and fellow Creatives children’s programmes. One of which made him a local “star” in the televised program “It’s Academic.”

At The BAIC/Bahamas Agricultural and Industrial Corporation, administered by community minded Mr. Hillary Deveaux, Eric Cash provided creative islanders of literature, arts and crafts opportunities to learn “how to be a business.”

Mr. Deveaux also sponsored Eric Cash’s band “Dr. Off” and their music production of hit songs “Get Involved” and “Junkanoo.” Ty Fitzgerald, lead vocalist of the band received help from Pat at the behest of Ty’s cousin Munnings. Pat saw in Ty a talented poet and was enthusiastic to assist. He used all of his available resources and sister Jennifer Cash’s car for the successful project. He often said_ “Creatives need help from other Creatives.”

He believed that “each person’s specialty made our National unity part of the Universes ‘music-of-the-spheres.’ ” Both hit songs became a rousing call to the Nation to choose more carefully, based on internal values, virtues, ethics and principles.

His excellent work inspired Mr. Deveaux, despite Pat’s vehement protests, to send him to work (again, briefly) at the Prime Minister’s Office as an Investment Promotions Officer for the Financial Services Secretariat Department.

He introduced the concept of earning an independent living through expanding but not selling to the highest bidder. He argued that “in spite of being born within a narrow opportunity culture we need to slow the ‘brain drain’ on his Nation which only enhances somewhere else.” He wanted to create “Social inventions” which would encourage and provide opportunities for “our best” to stay home and enrich our own beautiful Bahamian culture.

“Pat Cash is the future of tourism” praised Tourism Minister, The Honourable Vincent Vanderpool-Wallace, to many colleagues during his own tenure there. Pat in turn said of him “V. V-W, is the most innovative and visionary of servants to the Nations wellbeing.”

Pat enthusiastically worked in the MoT with many domestic and international businesses. As a cultural expert working with the Honourable V. V-W, he redirected the focus of the Ministry of Tourism to “support the Nation’s families and provide opportunities to the true Bahamian cultural community.”

He initiated cultural tours of junkanoo shacks, giving them tourism attracting advice. The outcome was the delight of thousands of tourists who sent him and the Ministry notes/faxes/e-mails saying “thank you”, “had a great time” and “vacation the most interesting and exciting_ ever.” Needless to say there have been many return visits.

In fact, there are worldwide, copycat “junkanoo” programmes in many international colleges enhancing their students graduation “credits” for learning our most simplistic junkanoo patterns and “riddims.” Many of these have expressed a strong desire to participate in and even rate in a true junkanoo “rushout.”

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Over the decades Pat wrote more and more plans and proposals for a just and peaceful Nation. He espoused the belief that “we-are-part-of-the-world, and must promote unity through cultural equality.” He worked to create appreciation without exploitation among Bahamians. He said that, “without the interference of personal or special interest we could all experience selfless, harmonious cultural exchanges amongst each other and tourists.”

He organized many youths in an ethic of community themed junkanoo and was cultural consultant for fairs and festivals.

Eric Patrick Cash the The Legend Joseph Spence

Eric Patrick Cash interviewing Bahamian legend Joseph Spence, circa early 1980's

He voluntarily initiated and was director of many free after school programs.

Pat worked with Hon. Daniel Johnson, Minister of Youth Sports and Culture who gave encouragement and entrée to his Culture Clubb after school programme at Gerald Cash Primary School. He was encouraged in these efforts by the astute counselor Ms. Shelly Small who appreciated his patience, listening skills and concrete encouragement to fourth and sixth graders.

Even after a grueling 4 hour stint as a favorite BahamaHost Lecturer, he volunteered his time, walking long distances (having no transportation) to faithfully conduct after school sessions. In these free after school programs he happily taught Bahamian culture to 6 to 12 year olds. They in turn loved him, affectionately calling him “Cashmoney” and making up happy songs about him during his school field trips. They are sure to miss him.

Eric Patrick Cash before a school fieldtrip

 

Another children’s program he organized and directed was “Flamingo Soccer Academy” for girls and boys with volunteer coaches at Carmichael Community Centre. Here is where skill-in-action and teamwork ethics were taught to our children. Later it became The Fyre Byrds Soccer Club.

Businessman Juan Bacardi sponsored this team. His young son visited, played with and even celebrated a birthday party with the delighted team and friends. They were staunch participants. 

The Rotary Club of Nassau sponsored team merchandise.

Additionally he initiated a Flamingo Tennis Academy program for school children after Phys. Ed. teachers complained their “Counch potato” students lack any physical co-ordination.” So, tennis pro’s Bradley Roberts and JB’s Lyford Cay Tennis Club instructors volunteered their Saturdays. They happily worked at improving eye/hand co-ordination and teaching students the basics of tennis. Some students discovered they were naturally gifted tennis players.

 

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Internationally Eric Patrick Cash applied his B.A in Mass Communications through many motion pictures visiting our islands.

He was Assistant to the Producer for the movie “Into the Blue” (2005) starring Paul Walker and Jessica Alba.

He provided production services for James Bond movie “Casino Royale” (2006) starring Daniel Craig.

He was the first ever Bahamian to hold the position of being 2nd Assistant Director of a foreign film, “Matrimonio alle Bahamas” (Wedding in the Bahamas 2007)

After working behind the scenes he found himself starring in a “Better in the Bahamas” tourism ad broadcast live during the 2009 Miss Universe Contest, hosted in the Bahamas.

 

His handsome visage gave rise to a flurry of phone calls from people wanting to know “Was that really you on TV?”

After years of production work in movies, documentaries (Murder in Paradise 2013), music videos (Shania Twain/Lionel Ritchie “Endless Love” 2014) and commercials (Bahamar 2015) and extensive photo shoots as THE “Fixer Supreme,” Eric Cash shifted his media attention to focus more on media driven historical and cultural education.

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Just before his unexpected death, Pat Cash was seeking sponsorship, funds and pre-orders for self-publishing book one and two of his illustrated children’s trilogy. He left behind numerous manuscripts and art. He primarily focused on producing his “No Bullying Allowed” campaign, offering multi-media products in the form of social media videos, downloadable MP3 songs and ebooks. These provide students, teachers, parents and children of all ages; with the behavioral and restorative therapy necessary for any stable society. His immediate family has pledged to continue his legacy as he outlined it.

We LOVE you Eric Patrick Cash.

Go with God in that better place than you left.

 

Patrick, Willie and Sweet Lou at Willie's place May 2019


 

  

Eric Patrick Cash and Class of '69 SAC Reunion May 2019

 

He is survived by many family members, among them are Michael and Christopher Albury; Jannah Wilmott; Dr. Nona (Tara) Martin-Storr PhD and Clyde Nedd Jr.; Kenneth Gerrick, Jermaine, and Tatianna Thompson, and Dr. Tanya Badamosi M.D.; A. Antoine and Ajene Heastie, M.D.; Ronique, Staff Sargeant Karyss Cash, Christal, Lisa, Rychelle, Yasmine and Yolanda Cash; Sharde Husain, Duane Jr. and Michael Cash; Nicholas and Nicholette Cash; Precious Smith, Jai-Le Simmons, Jade Williams, Anarghya Heastie, Gianna and Jayden Badamosi, Adrian Cash, Johann Sebastian Cash, Brittany Gomez, Tyler and Dario Jr. Smith, Michael Husain, Bryce Albury, Ari and Gayle Burrows, Jermia Thompson, Dorothy Francis. Krystal, Gregorinique Missick and Basilena Cash; Christie Cargill and Dr. Earl Cash.

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Click to read sample chapter from book two of his Dilly Trilogy

 

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Funeral Services for Eric Cash took place at East Sunrise Mortuary Chapel

Wednesday 3rd June 2020 11:00 A.M.

The service was streamed online in two parts.

Public viewing was Tuesday, 2nd June, 2020 11:00 A.M.

Part 1

 

Part 2


To show your compassion and respect for this creative Bahamian and help defray medical and funeral expenses, please donate in Eric Cash's name directly to Doctors Hospital. Photograph  your contribution and email it to us so we can thank you later on or DONATE ONLINE. 

Thank you to the two anonymous donors who selflessly gave. We can't wait to hug you one day.

Contact info: 1-242-552-4858/9 This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. | This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.Donations: Mrs. Helen Cash.

 

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11 comments

  • Comment Link Christopher L. Hamilton Saturday, 23 May 2020 19:52 posted by Christopher L. Hamilton

    I am Christopher L. Hamilton, long time good friend, from our days at SAC.We had remained close even through intermittent visit to Bahamas.
    We had connected just prior to covid-19 where assistance was happily given.
    My best friend, a very dedicated & decent human being.I love him dearly.

  • Comment Link Phyllis Garraway Sunday, 24 May 2020 12:01 posted by Phyllis Garraway

    OMG. He was Head Boy at SAC when I was in my first year...smart, good looking and dedicated. I worked on movie sets with him and he was the perfect gentleman and professional. I never knew any of this and I’m flabbergasted, hurt and sad. If only I knew....but God knows best. I am willing to do what I can.

  • Comment Link Shena Newton Sunday, 24 May 2020 17:50 posted by Shena Newton

    Hello my name is Shena Newton. I had the privilege of knowing Mr. Pat Cash. I would like to extend my deepest sympathy to the family of Mr. Cash. Would the family member who wrote this post please get in contact with me at at bahamareader..com.

  • Comment Link Samantha Cartwright Sunday, 24 May 2020 20:23 posted by Samantha Cartwright

    I have had the privilege of working with Pat Cash for many years and I’m deeply concerned about what has happened to him and I am extremely lost for words. Grateful if a family member can contact me as soon as possible. I only have his mobile number. samanthargcartwright@gmail.con.

  • Comment Link Troubled Monday, 25 May 2020 01:00 posted by Troubled

    Where were these people before hus death? After the fact, memories, cant bring him back. A number of people in this country are victimized simply for speaking out against wrong ACTS.

  • Comment Link Michael Brennen Monday, 25 May 2020 10:43 posted by Michael Brennen

    My deepest condolences. Pat was older brother to one of my best friend, Greg. I remember him as always dapper and friendly. So sad that he suffered in such a shameful manner - it seems unbelievable that what was described could happen. My prayers for healing go out to the family

  • Comment Link Shelly Small Tuesday, 26 May 2020 01:55 posted by Shelly Small

    Mr. Cash,
    I thought we had time. Time to amend situations that hindered the success of your projects. The ones that undoubtedly would have benefited the participants and by extension, our country. Unfortunately, death crept in like a thief at night and snatched life away from you. Regardless of your tragic demise, I will forever store your words of wisdom and guidance in my mind. You will always be remembered as one of the most honest and intelligent person I have ever encountered. I will miss your profound knowledge on politics and the 'beauty' of life. Honestly, I was always sagacious enough to avoid any political dialogues with you. In fact, I remained silent and left my colleague to converse with you. But being the passive listener had its rewards because you knew how to provoke my thoughts.

    Your departure seems unbelievable and indeed difficult to grasp but may your soul rest in peace Mr. Cash!

  • Comment Link H Saturday, 08 August 2020 15:30 posted by H

    Growing up my cousin and I use to call him 'The man' we thought he was weird but he was also a nice guy.He use to give us popcorn and snacks.. But through our younger years we notice he hide some white people in his house. They were afraid to come outside..we only see them once in a bluemoon. My people is work hard to get what they want..He told you'll alot of lies to keep you 'll trap in that house...He was friends with the man who have the jitney business cross the road and friends with us.. We were curious kids.He use to get mad with us when our ball or things get in his yard and he'll through it over to us. You live in the ghetto where niggas hang on the blocks who get off and talk shit...not everyone is criminals .The last time i saw him it was in the bus i hale him...and he hale back.. It so sad that he past but if you took him to the hospital from the beginning he would've be alive today..The people who lives around you are good people...i know them all my childhood years and they look out for one another..But you paint a negative picture of them which is not true..'The man' never use to smile always serious...never thought he was
    very smart ,talented,and intelligent.

  • Comment Link Jay Saturday, 08 August 2020 16:32 posted by Jay

    A drug cartel with political connections, ”vodun boat immigrants” as you may call it. Guns, violence, prostitutes, Human trafficking etc. but none that is relevant to his death.Why didn't you take him to the hospital sooner than later, why did you allow things to get this bad, why? Why? Why? You are the real murderer here allowing things to blow up at escalate as far as it got. See you blame everyone for his death, every single person, every single child, every single adult BUT yourself. You could've given this my life had you not been so selfish,It almost sounds to me that you're even trying to blame his siblings SHAME on you. See the thing is you're painting a picture to distract people from the real cause of his death. If you were not weak minded and allowed him to fool you, made you believe anything then maybe, just maybe you would open your eyes and see the bigger picture. You are so hell-bent on painting your neighbors as bad people in Fact as stalkers But you knows every Tat bit of information. ? something as tiny as using the Jitney man material for painting. So the real question is if your blinds were closed 24/7 in 90• weather and you never came out how do you know this information? How do you know there's kids in the yard infants at that? Fun fact I find it weird that this article was even written because For drug cartels with political connections, Illigal vodun immigrants And human traffickers to be as bad as you painted the picture then my friend you are fool for putting this information out and risking you and your family lives. May God rest his soul and may he have mercy on your delusional heart. ❤️

  • Comment Link Ashley Saturday, 08 August 2020 17:19 posted by Ashley

    It’s sad to hear about Mr. Pat’s death but respectfully asking.. if you’re going to explain “what happened” to him I see no reason for you to outline this image of the neighborhood he lived in. Additionally, were any of the “subhumans” as you described them to be (which I find very disrespectful on characterizing human beings) apart of his death? Did any of them harm him in any which way? Did they play apart in his death?How about adding the few favors the neighbors & family did for him in his neediest days. I knew Mr. Pat & the people that lived in his neighborhood. Humorous, helpful & hardworking people. Sounds to me as the person that this story is narrated by have something personal against neighbors, family, etc. How about writing a story on the moments you cherished the most with him & focus on “how” he died. I have never seen Mr. Pat’s wife, kids, etc.. only him. It’s shocking to know he had a family in that house the whole time of knowing him. Where were you guys during all these amazing events he played apart in? Upon speaking on drugs, criminal acts, etc... you guys seem to be the stalkers & the ones listening to their conversations, but I honestly feel like it’s irrelevant to the story. Make your recital focus on memories instead of humiliating humans, family & neighbors in such disrespectful matter. At the end of the day we all are humans with imperfections. It’s sad to know that he had died & was left with a horrendous narrative that could have focused on how great of man he was, along with memories he cherished as a Bahamian Man. May he Rest In Peace.

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