The Questions I Never Got to Ask My Father
By DeJongh "Dee" Wells
I don't remember exactly what we talked about that day at Hawksnest Beach.
I was eleven years old. It was the summer of 1984. The water behind us was the kind of turquoise that doesn't exist anywhere else in the world — only in the USVI. Only in Love City. My mother, Alecia, stood in the middle wearing her Freedom t-shirt and a wide brimmed sun hat, smiling the way she's always smiled — like everything was going to be fine. My father Winston stood on the right in his red and white raglan shirt, relaxed and present, the way fathers are when they don't know you're watching them.
I was on the left. A kid. A Summer 84 Day Camp t-shirt. A hat. No idea what was coming.
Seven years later, on April 7, 1991 — two weeks before my 18th birthday — my father Winston Wells died while playing softball in St. Thomas.
And……just like that, the questions I never thought to ask became the questions I would carry for the rest of my life.
What I Knew About My Father
Winston Wells was a man who made every space he entered feel important. He was known. He was respected. He was Love City through and through.
After high school he worked for Sports, Parks & Recreation in St. John — serving his community before he ever put on a uniform. On October 30, 1969, he enlisted in the United States Navy. He served as a Constructionman Seaman — part of the Naval Construction Force, the legendary Seabees — the men who build what others depend on. On January 5, 1972, he was honorably discharged. He came home to St. John with his service behind him and his whole life ahead of him.
He went on to serve his community in another uniform. As a fireman he rose through the ranks and became a Fire Captain in St. John, USVI; he was the kind of man people called when things went wrong. The kind of man who showed up. Who led. Who protected the island and the people he loved.
And on the softball diamond — he was alive in a way that only athletes understand. The crowd. The crack of the bat. The game. It was where he was most himself.
Today, the ballpark in Cruz Bay, St. John bears his name — Winston Wells Ball Field. His legacy is literally written into the landscape of the island he called home. Every Little League game played on that field, every child who learns to catch a fly ball or round third base, does so on ground that carries his name.
He started his working life serving the parks and recreation of St. John. Decades later, a park would carry his name forever.
I know that about him. I know it with pride.
But there is so much I don't know. So much I never got to ask.
What was it like growing up on Lovango Cay and St. John? What did he experience in the Navy — where did he go, what did he build, what did he see? What was the hardest thing he ever went through? What did he want me to know about life — not as a father talking to a child, but as a man talking to another man?
I was seventeen when he died. I never got the chance to ask him those questions as an adult. I never got to hear the full story in his own words.
That loss doesn't go away. It just gets quieter over time.
What This Photo Taught Me
I've looked at this photo hundreds of times over the years. The trees in the background. The water. The way my mother is smiling. The way that my father is standing — solid, present, at home.
What strikes me most now is how ordinary that day must have felt. A family at the beach. A summer afternoon. Someone with a camera.
Nobody documenting a legacy. Nobody asking the important questions. Nobody pressing record.
Just a family — alive and together and completely unaware that seven years later everything would change.
That's the thing about time. It doesn't announce itself. It doesn't give you a warning. One day the people you love are standing next to you at Hawksnest Beach in the summer of 1984, and then one day they're not.
Why I Created the Family Story Interview Guide
I built Protect Our Culture because of photos like this one. Because of questions like the ones that I never got to ask.
Not just for myself — but for everyone who has ever looked at an old photograph and felt the weight of a story they'll never fully know.
The Family Story Interview Guide is 25 essential questions designed to help you start the conversation with your parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. The who, what, why, when, and where of their lives. Their journey. Their sacrifices. Their joy. In their own words. Preserved forever.
It's free because no one should have to pay to preserve their family's story.
If you still have time — if the people who shaped you are still here — please use it.
Pull out your phone. Press record. Ask the questions.
Don't wait for a better moment. Don't assume there will be a next time. Don't let the ordinary days pass without capturing what makes them extraordinary.
This guide exists so you don't have to carry that same silence.
Download the free Family Story Interview Guide at ProtectOurCulture.com
Wear the mission. Protect the culture.