Small, Reuben McDonald

Small, Reuben McDonald
18 Jul

Reuben McDonald Small, age 90, better known as “Pannya”, of Arthur Seat, St. Thomas, formerly of Eckstein Village, Tudor Bridge, St. Michael, Devoted member of The Spiritual Baptist Church, Father of Shirley Yearwood – Supervisor of Federal Bookmakers and Michael Yearwood of the Ministry of Transport and Works, Grandfather of Shemara McClean, Shanice Tasher and Shalanni Yearwood, Great-grandfather of Sharmarce McClean and Sharmara Brathwaite, Brother of Otis Green and Kenrick Small of the U.S.A., Clarence Green, Estaline Greenidge, Daisy Small, Dorian Bovell and Barbara Johnson and the late Cyrilene Holder, Eloise Holder and Chappie Small, Uncle of Anthony Small of the Central Bank and thirty others, Father-in-law of Jennifer Yearwood, Special friend of Sylvia Yearwood, Friend of Angela, Victor and Gordon.

The funeral of Reuben McDonald Small leaves Anderson Funeral Home, Lower Barbarees Hill, St. Michael on Thursday 19th July, 2018 at 11:30 a.m. for The Zion Spiritual Baptist Church, Richmond, St. Michael where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 1:00 p.m. for the service. The cortege will then proceed to the St. James Cemetery for the interment.

Floral arrangements may be sent to Anderson Funeral Home no later than 10:30 a.m. on Thursday.

Viewing of the body will be held in the chapel of Anderson Funeral Home from 4:00 p.m. until 6.00 p.m. on Wednesday 18th July 2018 and at the church from 12:00 noon until the start of the service on Thursday.

Condolences may be sent to This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

  • Stop all the clocks
    Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone. Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead, Put crépe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song, I thought that love would last forever: 'I was wrong' The stars are not wanted now, put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.