Space Jamaicans Are Real
By Byron Hwang
‘Up in the highest Aerie,
The Space Jamaicans soar!
So won’t you come and join them,
There are new worlds to explore!
The Space Jamaicans fly!
You and I,
Can help them through the sky.
The Space Jamaicans fly!’
An Unwanted Revelation
I thought my headphones were properly synced and paired with my laptop when I opened the link from my college roommate. He wasn’t weird, but he was Canadian. And for the three years we spent living together, first by Shirley Jackson housing lottery and then later on by choice, he was obsessed with convincing anyone he cornered at a party that as a child he and his sister used to watch a Saturday morning cartoon called ‘Space Jamaicans’. Except, they didn’t watch it on broadcast television on Saturday mornings. They watched the VHS tape their older step-brother had recorded in the late 1980s.
It was a singular experience, perhaps the defining one of their childhood, but there was never any proof that it was a real and not an imagined experience. To borrow a term from the Swedes, ‘Space Jamaicans’ and any variant thereof was ogooglebar, or ungoogleable. If the internet refuses to recognize your existence, where does that leave the rest of us? It has replaced every other default people used to rely upon. When I’d had and heard enough about ‘Space Jamaicans,’ I placed a desperate call to the New York Public Library’s reference and support desk. The librarian who answered was kind, patient, and competent enough to field the inquiry as if it were a serious research matter, instead of hanging up what very well may have been an elaborate prank. After twelve minutes on hold, I was informed that I would be contacted via email. The following Monday, I received an apologetic boilerplate response, as their efforts bore no fruit. I wonder if they tried anything after they realized they couldn’t Google it. Furthering my doubts was how this peculiar delusion gained popularity amongst coed partygoers as the keg got lighter throughout the evening. If you were crazy enough to question one of these newfound and hungover ‘Space Jamaican’ disciples the next day; however, you’d realize they had no clue what you were on about.
So, I admit it. I was a ‘Space Jamaican’ denier- more than a skeptic, but not quite hostile towards the signifiers ‘space’ and ‘Jamaican’ when used in combination. That is, until I looked up to see the entire Brooklyn coffee shop where I once enjoyed working staring me down while the intro theme to ‘Space Jamaicans’ blared at full volume out of my laptop. Everything I’d believed was a lie after all. The headphones had not synced and had not paired. I didn’t like working at this coffee shop. At least not anymore. And most devastating and consequential of all, ‘Space Jamaicans’ were fucking real. Since that life altering moment introduced me to a timeline I doubted was even possible, I have endeavored to learn everything about them and the show that brought them into being. What follows is an oral history of the 1988 single season, twenty-two episode Saturday morning cartoon. Although full of true statements that can now be proven, it is nevertheless incomplete. For starters, I refused to include my interview with the aforementioned college roomie. His ‘I told you so’ tone was unbearable. I could not however exclude his little sister, who happens to be my wife now, for obvious reasons.
Family Home Entertainment
Emma Koppen-Hwang: It’s not that the show was any good. I can’t even remember anything detailed about it. We watched it and remembered watching it because it was the only cartoon we got to see. Really, we were pulling a fast one on our parents. I couldn’t tell you how we found the VHS tape either. We were living in Wiarton and were never really allowed to watch TV except maybe one hour with our parents and only ever on school nights. Any other time we’d be expected to read or do some activity as a family, like watch a movie we rented. No cable. Never had cable until I went away to college, but there was a VCR for the one big TV in the living room that had like I don’t know, what looked like a hollowed out wooden bureau surrounding it. The TV screen wasn’t big at all, but the whole thing had to weigh a ton with the forest of stained wood it was cased in. What we could do was check out educational VHS tapes from the library. They were always so boring though. The Space Jamaican[s] tape, on the other hand, showed some signs of life. There were loud sounds and colors, and like I said it was animation. An actual cartoon that we didn’t have to watch at our friends’ houses. We could play it off like we were watching the library tapes and get away with watching that one cartoon at home. Our step-brother Rob, from our mom’s other marriage, he grew up in Hamilton and he sort of remembers recording it from a TV station that came in from Buffalo.
Robert Simcoe: I don’t remember watching that show at all. But I used to record hours of tapes and re-record them. That UHF channel out of Buffalo always had wild stuff that my classmates and I would tape. Stuff was like, maybe a step or two above what you’d find on public access today. I have no idea why that particular tape got kept and got moved all the way to Wiarton with everybody. When you forwarded me the clips you’d found, it made sense why I recorded it. I’d have been in grade eight or grade nine? It was all for laughs. I’d tried marijuana for the first time around then. I don’t think me and my friends were the intended audience of Space Jamaicans, but we were the best audience. Probably the only audience.
That was the only thing that would have appealed to me about the show. That I was getting away with something, which was difficult for me. I didn’t have the same opportunities to put one over on my parents as most kids had. Not at all like my stepbrother and [step]sister. My parents were so hands-off in raising me that there was never anything to rebel against. When the temptation isn’t there, that’s what ends up happening. Other kids in my grade were getting in trouble for skipping school, shoplifting, getting in fights. Those kind of things. Meanwhile, I’m staying up late past the bedtime I’d never had to record Space Jamaicans. That was my big rebellion at the time I guess.
A Home Entertainment Family
After some online sleuthing, I was able to track down and contact the person who posted the intro to Space Jamaicans that burned its way through my laptop screen. Gerry Howard included the clip as part of a bigger tribute to his father Glen’s career in local broadcasting upon his retirement from the industry last year. Glen has since moved to Florida from Buffalo and was willing to answer even my most trivial questions in a series of phone calls.
Glen Howard: I started my career in broadcast television at this kooky independent station called WERY, which as a station ID, phonetically you’re supposed to say out loud as ‘W-Erie’. That was the connection they expected viewers to make, because Buffalo is on Lake Erie. But of course no one did that because WERY looks like the word ‘very’ and that was the association everybody had about WERY. As in, like, very strange. Very different. Very very. I bring this up, for a couple of reasons. First is that even the smallest market research survey, I mean I’m talking about asking your wife and kids, would have turned up that result. The station began its life in radio. So, they could have changed the name when it jumped to television. It was classical music up until the late seventies. Then it moved into rock music. So, they could have changed the name when they changed the format too. There were some FCC regulation and rule changes in the eighties that opened up UHF spots. That’s how the station made the jump to television.
All of this obvious stuff was important to me back then, because right out of business school, WERY, they hired me to manage their ad sales. Before business school, I’d served ten years in the United States Air Force as a noncommissioned officer. I was like the station itself, moving into a second career. And stuff like that, stuff that didn’t make any sense to me drove me nuts. Here I am trying to sell ad spots during our programming and no one knows what the station is even supposed to be called.
I realized later on, after moving on to work as an executive for two of the local major network affiliates in Buffalo that nothing made any sense over there either. Now that I get to golf year round, I meet people who retired from all different industries on the course and in the clubhouse. People far more successful than I ever was, or any of the operations I was lucky to work for. You trade stories, and you start to realize that so long as human beings are involved in the work, not much makes sense in any type of work. You come to see a professional career, a career as any type of professional, as a sort of war against irrationality. One you’re doomed to lose, but the more wrinkles you can iron out while your there, the better for everyone.
Space Jamaicans I actually do remember quite a bit about that one, because the ad buyers, the media purchasers working on behalf of their client, ironed out all the wrinkles for us. It was too good to be true. They came to us with the program already made at a run time of twenty-three and a half minutes, with all the ad breaks covered. All we had to do was take their money and air it how they wanted it. You can probably guess, as a show, I don’t remember anything about it. We weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and scrutinize what it was all about. Every Saturday for the year we aired it, we had a half hour on our books and in the bank. You can’t shake hands fast enough for a deal like that. Zero effort on our part. When you’re running a department, no matter how big or small, you’re really trying to look for efficiencies. And Space Jamaicans was one hell of a shortcut.
What I can recall, and this has stuck with me because it’s one of those strange things that stick with you, is that the show’s sponsor was the tourism board for the US Virgin Islands. That’s what all the ads were for. All-inclusive family getaways to the US Virgin Islands. I guess they couldn’t do ‘Space Virgins’. Not as a Saturday morning thing anyways. Pedro [Martinez] wasn’t pitching for the [Red] Sox yet. ‘Space Dominicans’ wouldn’t have resonated with anyone. Cuba is still pretty much off limits in the US outside of the Miami market. Haiti was voodoo and Papa Doc. Again, no strong positive associations for an American audience. I’m guessing that’s why they settled on Jamaicans as the best representatives of what the Caribbean had to offer. But this is pure conjecture on my part. Because based on what little I’ve seen they launch them out of a tropical paradise and into space, for God knows why.
Buffalo, and other cold places in the States, is of course a good market for that type of thing. That part of their strategy made sense. I wouldn’t be surprised if other independents [independent television stations] in Minneapolis or St. Paul, maybe around New England too, were targeted and picked up Space Jamaicans. Unfortunately, it was my old station WERY that had its logo and call sign on screen in that footage my son unearthed. He’s always been a weisenheimer. All the boys are much smarter than dad. They all made it into the [United States Air Force] Academy and served as commissioned officers after their time in Colorado Springs. Makes you proud, but it also leaves you open to this kind of thing.
So Mark, my oldest son, rolls this footage they’ve prepared for my civilian retirement party, and what does it lead with? I went on from WERY to produce the most beloved morning show in Buffalo for years and years. I was lucky enough to be a huge part of everyone’s daily routine and lives. I’d like to think a positive one too. That’s what I’m expecting. Any number of the fun segments we did on that show over the years. We did segments with my kids in them! Great stuff. Holiday cooking segments. Stuff like that.
But, no, what does he choose? That damn intro to Space Jamaicans, something I have zero recollection of. It wasn’t so different from your coffee shop experience you told me about. It’s not overtly racist, but there is certainly something off about it. Maybe their spaceship looking like a big unripe green banana? I don’t know. No I’m not familiar with plantains. Even in, when did it air? When did it broadcast? Eighty-eight? Even then, and the times have certainly changed in terms of what’s acceptable to put on air for the better, even then if I’d bothered to review it, I would have thought something was off about it. [It’s] Not quite right with the caricature style animations and that. But no, I’m not that bothered by it. Ultimately, I was making a sound financial decision for the station [WERY] and that was my job. If I had a time machine, I wouldn’t use it to go back to 1988 and watch the pilot episode of Space Jamaicans to figure out if we should take the money they advanced us. If you find more footage, I might change my mind. For now, I’m not too worried about it.
Found Footage
Emma Koppen-Hwang: Once we had that first video to post, things really took off on the Facebook page we made. More and more people shared it and linked it back to us, which meant more and more people commented on it, about how they remembered watching that show growing up. Then more clips started piling in. People joined the group and shared their own uploads. All of them were recorded on VHS tapes and had lines all over the images and other artifacts you’d expect. There were even two people who posted entire episodes, or what we think are entire episodes.
To be honest, they’re very difficult to watch because they don’t seem to follow any narrative structure. It’s unclear what the plot or plotlines are supposed to be. Like both full episodes I got to see involved unexplained time travel. For a couple minutes they’re on a planet with dinosaurs. Is it a Planet of the Apes thing, where they’re really back on earth before the comet wiped them [the dinosaurs] out? No mention of it at all. They blast off after the next ad break to a start system that puts out frequencies that are heard by humans as music when they’re travelling through it at the speed of light.Like even as a little kid, you know sound and light don’t travel at the same rate. I’d seen lightning and heard thunder before! Watching them didn’t really jar loose any memories for me, and maybe that’s because these aren’t the episodes my brother and I had on tape. Maybe if I saw those, I’d connect to it more.
Watching them now, what really stands out are all the ads for the Virgin Islands. We used to beg mom and dad to take us to the Virgin Islands! And they’d be understandably confused. They were like, why the Virgin Islands? We were still caught in our lie about the tape, so we told them we’d learned about the Virgin Islands in school and wanted to go for ourselves. I think back then parents trusted teachers and schools a lot more, because they never caught us out. They must have never asked why we were learning about a US territory in the Caribbean. They also had no interest in taking us there on a family vacation. We had grandparents in Vancouver and other grandparents in Montreal. So, those were the only two destinations for our family vacations growing up.
So, yeah, it existed. The show existed and it still exists in some form online now. But I really don’t expect hashtag Space Jamaicans to ever start trending on twitter. Out Facebook group only has a couple hundred members and it’s not growing by more than a couple new members every other week. There’s not much incentive for anyone to revive the thing now. There have to be much better ways to get people to travel to the Virgin Islands. If I did want anything or anyone connected to it to sort of go viral and take off, it would have to be this name, George Swann, that shows up like eight or nine times in the closing credits. They scroll by so quick[ly] you can’t even pick out an individual name unless it repeats like that over and over again. Maybe you can find George if he’s still around and see if he’s up for an AMA on our group page.
George Swann: You read what they put in front of you. You didn’t have any cels or sketches or storyboards or anything like that to go on. They didn’t even give your character[s] a background. This was not Bugs Bunny or The Simpsons. They told you, right as you get in there, George you’re gonna [sic] be a cockroach today that smokes cigars, or from what you’re telling me, a reggae astronaut or some other crazy thing that would only show up in their cartoon graveyard. That’s what Callahan Arts was. It was like an industrial animation production line. What appealed to me is that it was close to the track. To and from work I could bet on the greyhounds they had running.
I remember one time it was a zombie ballerina. I was both the zombie ballerina and the orangutan that saved the world by dancing with her. All in the same goddamn mic. What the fuck did I know about ballet, or eating brains? You do the job. I went with it because the checks always cleared. Your landlord don’t [sic] question how you make rent. I wasn’t about to question how I made that rent money either. They give you the script on the day and you read it into the mic. That’s all there was to it.
A lot of work back then, but not a whole lot of memories about that work. You’d do maybe three or four characters per script. And maybe two or three scripts per recording session. There’s just no way anybody can keep track of all that. It would be quicker to tell you all the parts I didn’t voice than the ones they had me do. Never did Shakespeare is what it comes down to. There just wasn’t anything worth remembering. You’re in there, in the booth, laying down your parts and thinking about what you want for dinner that night. Same as any other day job. Same as any other nine to five grind. The contracts didn’t work like that. There were no royalties. You had no skin in the game. Zero. None in terms of whether or not it ever made it to air. Did not matter one bit.
Sure, we can verify it was me if you’d like. Because of my gambling issues back then, I kept records of all my income. Some years you’d win big and the taxman came for his like he [was] the one picking out the right box bets with value and researching pedigrees in all your free time. You let me know the year or years, I’ll give you the Bankers Box to sort through. I’m an open book, so it’s nothing to open my books. Not a thing. When you find the pay stubs, maybe the ink won’t be too faded to see who from CA [Callahan Arts] was heading the production and signing the checks. Maybe they’d know more about your Rastanauts.
Market Research
Bryan Callahan: My father Ryan Callahan- I know it’s confusing. He was the first person in his family born in America. Everyone else was from Ulster and he wanted the world to know he was my father, but he also didn’t want to put the pressure of being a junior on me.- he started Callahan Arts shortly after returning from the European Theater in World War II. Post-war, no one wanted newsreels. There was a place for animation again at the movies. Shorts before the feature and in between double features. That’s what CA produced for all the cinemas and drive-ins around the Tri-state area and parts of Connecticut too. Once television made the leap to color, what had been a small arm of the company became the bread and butter. By the early seventies, we’d shut down our movie business and geared everything for television.
What we specialized in at first were still shorts. We’d do the cartoon segments for all these kids’ shows on local TV. Think B and C rate Bozos and Captain Kangaroos. A lot of the early ones [cartoons] were generic. Washington crossing the Delaware. Stuff to mark big holidays and certain seasons. Maybe some more ‘trippy’ animations in the sixties and seventies for transitions to and from breaks. Over time, we were able to add on more spec work. We invested in recording space, leased it and then found a studio in New Jersey that we owned. I oversaw a lot of that. When the show you’re asking about aired, my dad was still the acting CEO, but day to day operations fell to me.
Yes, I was quite involved in the project. Really it was an incomplete project. We were given the idea and the initial layout from the [Virgin Island] Tourism Bureau all the way back in late 1985. Believe it or not, the Caribbean was a tough sell for a lot of middle class Americans. Cuba. There was constant tension with Cuba and people really took a long time to get past the boatlift. Everyone thought Cuba was dumping criminals into the US. I guess some of these bad ideas get recycled. And then there was Grenada, our invasion there. The Contras in Nicaragua, even though that’s Central America. On and on it went. On everyone’s television screen on the nightly news. All through the eighties. The Tourism Bureau saw this as an opportunity to attract a lot of investment and visitors. It seemed an easy pitch. You get the dream vacation, white sand beaches and clear blue waters, without having to leave the safety and comfort of the US.
One of the ways they wanted to do this was to show how family friendly the Virgin Islands were. What better way to demonstrate that than through a cartoon. That was the idea. Kids would see it and love it and tell their parents about it. Once the Jones’ spent a week there, the Smiths would have to and the Johnsons would have to and so on. Ok, but how do you get kids interested in the Virgin Islands when everyone at the time is really interested in space? All this planning was in the lead up to the Challenger disaster, so maybe you see where this is going. At the time, it was a huge thing. This idea that any normal citizen could end up being an astronaut and go up in space. If you were looking for heroes, at that time, it meant you were looking for astronauts. Except the Challenger disaster did happen in early 1986.
We hadn’t drawn any cels for it, but we knew we had to change the project entirely. They kept us in a holding pattern and wouldn’t commit to anything for months. We had to go in and out of court to get them to honor the contracts we had negotiated. It was a full series run. Twenty or twenty-two episodes. We’d make them how they asked and they’d plop their tourism commercials into all the breaks. So, the top people at the Tourism Bureau eventually all get replaced during this process and we get entered into arbitration. We wound up taking a hit on what they’d pay us per episode in the settlement we reached, but we got creative control over the content. The original contracts specified that we’d own the property, excluding their commercials, after the first run was completed. To sweeten the deal for us, the arbitrators figured we should be given creative control. We could decide how valuable the product would be based on our own reckoning and efforts. And for them, it freed up more capital to produce higher quality ads for the breaks.
Ok. That was the long and short of it. And we felt we’d been given the short of it. I know you talked to George [Swann] because you told me you did and maybe you’ll talk to some other CA regulars, so you already know that is not what we did. We were industrial in our production. We were laborers not artists and we didn’t suffer the illusion that we were anything other than handymen. The people who contracted to us, they were the architects. We just built you the cartoon based on blueprints you provided and we took your money to do it. The better the blueprints, the better the end product.
We weren’t at all set up to see through our own creation. CA is as far from Pixar as you can imagine. I met my father in the City after this agreement gets handed down and he came up with the strategy we went with, which was fuck them. We’ll make a show so terrible no one will ever see their ads. Their breaks can be better than Star Wars but no one will ever know. I thought this was great. I’d had enough of the whole thing and wanted to move on. I really wanted to push it too far. My idea was to do a show called ‘Mickey Louse’ and make fun of all the terrible anti-Irish and anti-Catholic stereotypes my dad’s parents and grandparents had to deal with. He [Ryan Callahan] put a dead stop on that.
It was important to him that we maintained some plausible deniability. He didn’t want them dragging us back into court for acting in bad faith. At his age then he could only play so senile. So, we met them halfway at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. We gave them an island and we gave them space. Those elements were in place from the very beginning. We had memorandums with the first set of tourism people we dealt with that showed that. Obviously, we couldn’t do a takedown on the Virgin Islands either. What we did was we gave them space and an island and we made it shit. Total shit. If I’m not mistaken, it was high school kid who ended up writing it. He was paid in course credits? I don’t know. I do know [that] from the first and only thirty seconds I ever watched; it was truly awful. Based on what we were going for, [it was a] huge success.
An Early Breakthrough
Gerry Burke: That’s right. I wrote all twenty-two episodes of the 1988 cartoon classic Space Jamaicans. And when I did it, I was young and dumb enough to use my own real name for the credits. I was taking some classes at a community college in Long Island because it meant I didn’t have to get up early and go to school a couple times a week. This was part of some talented and gifted program I was thrown into with the other nerds and geeks. They were probably trying to keep us away from the bullies, but being separated like that put an even bigger target on our backs. All the bulletin boards were covered with this ad and a number to call about making your own cartoon. Everyone else there was a working adult trying to get some certificate or degree that would land them a better job or a promotion. Or they were retired, and looking for something to do. I must have been the only one who bothered to call. Mr. [Bryan] Callahan answered the phone himself and told me about what they were looking for. I didn’t know anything about Jamaica or space. I was going to turn him down until he offered me fifty dollars for each script I finished.
And then we got working. He gave me what had already been developed, which were the characters- the main characters, the crew- and sketches of what they looked like. Three men and two women. Only one of the women had dreads, which in hindsight was one of the few saving graces. What else? I mean I didn’t know anything about women. Now here I am writing what they would do and say in certain situations. I guess the other saving grace is how outlandish the situations were. No real person, Jamaican or otherwise, would ever find themselves travelling to a distant planetary system packed with dinosaurs. In that way, it wasn’t really important what I wrote. There’s no precedence for something like Space Jamaicans and luckily there hasn’t been anything as terrible since. As naïve as I was, I knew something was up. They gave me this character sheet and then twenty-two extremely broad scenarios, like the dinosaur thing. And there was a vampire one. An underwater exploration episode because space isn’t enough somehow.
Yeah, I knew something was off about the whole project, but I didn’t care. My senior year of high school started, and I rocked up wearing all new Nike and Adidas. I could buy the best pot all of a sudden. For a seventeen, eighteen-year-old kid, it was a great deal. I owe my only fun times in school to Space Jamaicans. That being said, when they sent me the collected episodes on tape, I couldn’t even watch them. I knew it was bad. You know. Like when a calculus test kicks your ass. You know as you’re taking the test [that] you’re wholly unprepared for it. I felt the same way the entire time I worked on those scripts.
My mom really wanted to watch them and I’d always come up with an excuse for why we had to do something else. At the same time, I was really proud that I wrote this stuff and someone brought it to life. Every college admission essay was all Space Jamaicans. By the time I came home from college, the tapes were no longer in the living room. They’d been tossed and my mom never talked about it, which was a relief. It’s only dawning on me now, years later. She probably watched them while I was gone and threw them away when she realized how embarrassing they were. I never talked about it either. I was happy they’d been thrown out. Now, I don’t know. Maybe it would have been nice to have. Even if it was only to laugh at it. I’m definitely going to look into the clips you dug up. You promise me there’s nothing too offensive about it right?
In my middle age I have a tremendous soft spot for that kid working over an electric typewriter with a script format book open on the desk next to him. I appreciate that he saw an opportunity for what it was and let all the drivel come pouring out of him. I love that he went for it, inexperienced as he was. No, I didn’t write the lyrics for the theme song. I didn’t know there was a theme song! Makes sense to have one. But I didn’t pen that part. Right, that is a tragedy to not know who composed that little ditty. Probably someone else at the community college taking piano lessons. But all the other non-sequiturs and dialogue that goes nowhere and doesn’t move any discernible plot forward or develop any character, that was me. That stuff is one hundred percent Gerry Burke. Or, the young Gerry Burke. I don’t doubt that there are large sections of dead air. I did a page per minute because that was the minimum Mr. Callahan set for me [in terms of] getting paid. The bare minimum was really the best I could do at that time. Might be better than I could do today. Who knows?
An Afterthought
Bryan Callahan: Other than what you showed me from the Facebook [page] I don’t think any record of the show remains. We were always recording over audio tracks up until the quality was completely shot as a way to save money. By the early nineties Callahan Arts didn’t have any business coming in. There was a huge shift in children’s entertainment towards cable markets with the entry of Nickelodeon. That’s how sugary breakfast cereals got sold. We weren’t needed by local TV anymore. All the local independents were folding too. The networks moved on to more live action, educational programming around that time. You know, there were a lot of shows that took you on tours of zoos and things like that that popped up.
We were lucky to have space that we owned, because New York- the city- is always growing. The real estate became the business. We converted it into recording studios for musicians to rent out and bought some adjoining properties that became housing- artists’ lofts. When we made those changes, we threw everything out. We didn’t see any point in keeping anything, because we always worked to spec. None of it was really ‘ours’ anyway. Space Jamaicans never would have come to mind as something that needed saving, that needed preserving. That’s fine by me. I’m still shocked to be sitting here talking about all these years later. There’s no need to revive this thing, or any of the other projects I oversaw. We don’t need a petition for Space Jamaicans Day. And now, those studios are for podcasting. That square footage still generates revenue. I am proud of that.
Emma Koppen-Hwang: Even after you’ve done all this research and found all these people to talk to who made it, I still don’t really know what Space Jamaicans is or was. Like, I really don’t have a grasp on that at all. But it doesn’t really bother me. For me, and I can see from the [Facebook] group a lot of people agree with me or think about it in a similar way, it was part of my childhood. It’s one of those great shared memories I have of growing up with my brother. And those feelings, those are very real and have always been real. Those feelings I understand, and I think that’s much more important than any of the hard facts we might find out.
‘The Space Jamaicans fly!
You and I,
Can help them through the sky.
The Space Jamaicans fly!
New worlds of opportunity
To open up your eyes.
The Space Jamaicans fly!’
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