Amongst a lot of other things, Dad was a man of strong principles. He’d be pleased to note that I did spell that with an "-e", because he was also someone who loved words and language, and he was a person who used them well, especially in "public" situations: preaching a sermon, giving a lesson, writing a letter or having debates.
It has been quite a while since I had a good "hammer and tongs" argument with Dad, as in a debate, about some point of history, politics…whatever. It never really mattered what the subject was, and it never really mattered that we usually disagreed! They were always invigorating discussions – and on Dad’s part at least, usually eloquently expressed, with logical arguments and powerfully marshalled passion. (On my part I was better at the passion than the logical bit!)
I’m sure most people who ever had much to do with Dad were similarly inspired and challenged by his passion, his principles and his knowledge.
The family has friends and school mates all over the world and know students from earlier generations who still say now, as they did at the time, things like, "Your Dad was a great teacher!" " I learned so much from him." These teenage accolades, coupled with his nicknames "Pun" at Gordonstoun and "the Bionic Fossil" in Australia, give a small indication of the genuine liking and respect he inspired – and that’s not just among the A-grade students. Dad always had a special eye out for the tougher cases, or the students and people who didn’t have it so easy.
That was an overriding principle for him and all his life, and Rob has already mentioned many of the areas where he managed to challenge and inspire people from all sorts of backgrounds. His inspiration or leadership or teaching may not always have been easy. He always expected your best effort, he expected you to have done your homework or research, to think logically, and to make the right choices (not necessarily the easy ones.) After all, its what he expected of and did himself.
Anyway - there’s quite a lot been said about the ‘Public Persona’, but there’s also another side. In private, as "Dad" (or "the Mad Vadder" as we sometimes called him) he was a man of fewer words, and many of those I think he found harder to say. He makes me think of the greeting card I saw and bought to give him a few weeks ago which had the quotation: "We say the least to those we love the most."
But maybe his is a case where actions do indeed speak louder than words, and it’s pretty easy to reach a conclusion about Dad based on his actions. Some examples:
I expect we all four received a birthday card similar to the one Dad sent me about 20 years ago (I still have it). It depicted a glass of red on the front and caption "Like a fine wine, you only improve with age." Underneath was Dad’s handwritten addition – "1963 was a particularly good vintage!"
Dad expressed most of his true feelings fairly subtly without much fuss, as a joke or a throwaway line - but always with that twinkle in his blue, blue eyes and a raised eyebrow and a lopsided smile. Rob tells me it was his eyes and his expressive eyebrows, which stayed to the end, even after his voice had left him.
Whenever it was time for Kim, Kate, Claire and me to say goodbye to him after one of our many visits, we’d always get one of his special "looks", a big hug and his favourite salutation from Nigerian days: so like the one we use in Malaysia - "Go Gently" or "Go Well", to which the reply, like an echo is "Stay Well"
I have to admit, when I heard about his illness a large part of me wanted to entreat him: "Do not go gently into that dark night! Rage, rage against the dying of the light!" but in fact, we could have wished for nothing better than that he did go gently, peacefully, with dignity and no fuss, Mum holding one hand, Rob the other, having lived an incredibly full, rich and varied life.
So on his next journey I can only wish him, as he would wish us all…
Selamat Jalan – Go Well, Dad.