Greetings!

I had no intention of writing this week for once again, the calendar of appointments has burst its seams and so in addition to trying to keep up, I am doing some amount of damage control. But just now, listening to KOOL 97FM [my station of choice everyday], I heard the unmistakable voice of Luther Vandross singing the now famous Dance with My Father. I could not bring the tears to my eyes for they were mixed with so much more, deeply lodged in my heart. A la Gladys Knight, Misty, Water Coloured Memories of The Way We Were, flooded my mind. Through them, I saw four, or five-year-old me, my daddy having placed my little ones on top of his feet [yes, there was a time when I had little feet 😊], as he danced with me around our living room, to music, that I cannot now recall, but the memory, oh the beautiful memory of him smiling down at me, wheeling me round and round, with unabashed delight, is as vivid and tangible as it gets. Suddenly, it dawned upon me, today being Fathers’ Day, open your computer and celebrate the memory of your father. So, here goes…

My daddy might not have been a recipient of any official awards or accolades that placed him among the greats and yet, George Leopold Jervis (March 16, 1914 – April 19, 1974) exemplified the kind of courage that, under the fire of life’s challenges, set him far above many. His resilience, disciplined approach to life in general and the exercise of his roles as husband, father, friend, and worker, made him something of an enigma; one would either like and admire or dislike and admire him. The fact is, from whatever vantage point one’s view of him was taken, admiration was a constant.

George, a name derived from the Greek language and made popular by the legend of the third century Roman soldier who slew a dragon, carries the connotation of farmer or husbandman. One bearing the name, therefore, was expected to be a hard worker: earthy and dependable, characteristics that without question, aptly described my father. 

Daddy was in every sense a man’s man! He dressed well and took exceptional pride in seeing to the wellbeing of every member of his family. This meant that he not only provided for them financially but took time to ensure that his children, especially his boys, were taught to be independent and hard working.  The fact is daddy was of the school that equated manhood with dependability and being responsible. Consequently, there were times when, while raising his sons, his ire was kindled in ways that made them know that their father would never be tolerant of indiscipline. 

Laziness was taboo, so daddy was not averse to using ‘the rod’ occasionally, if talking about the virtue and value of hard work, seemed not to have conveyed his message with enough force. Each of his sons, therefore, while they bear testimony to his no-nonsense discipline, affirms the fact that beneath what might have seemed like a tough exterior, was a great big heart, beating ever so steadily, for them. There were no two ways about it; daddy would deprive himself, to ensure that his children would never be in need.

My daddy was a first-class driver and taught his sons, either literally or by encouragement, how to be the same. It is no surprise, therefore, that each one possesses exceptional driving skills and was able from an early age, to perform simple auto-mechanical tasks. A lover of good movies and reading. It was common to see him on a cool evening after work, unwinding in his favourite chair with a Mickey Spillane suspense novel, or strolling towards the cinema, in his signature short pants and sandals. Some evenings were also given to playing Casino (cards) with our mother, whom he lovingly referred to as V (for Violet) in response to her G (for George). The card playing ability and love for movies were passed on to his sons while the love of reading it seems, was taken on by the daughter.

Having built a home for his family, daddy lived only three weeks after moving them in. It was always his dream and desire to see them settled in this way, so that they would not have to depend on anyone for shelter. His overworked heart [already weak from having to manage several positions on the job, in addition to singlehandedly completing the building of his house, following the disappearance of the contractor], gave out on April 19, 1974.

Daddy’s passing seemed at the time, to have left a crater-like void in the lives of every member of his family. Today, however, after forty-eight years, memories of him inspire silent smiles and tears, mingled with laughter. On this Father’s Day, I celebrate and honour the memory of my daddy – a man’s man and one-of-a-kind father. Rest In Peace daddy…

Gone from us in the physical, you are

Etched in the depths of our hearts.

One of a kind, you were special.

Rich in

Godly and  

Endearing qualities.

Love was your gift to your children,

Equally with each to share.

Over and over, you taught us

Pleading, each one, for to care.

Often, we speak of your wisdom,

Light-heartedness and

Devotion rare; so, with

Joy-filled remembrance, we

Embrace the fragrance; your

Rare

Virtues

Ineffable,

Share.

Until next time, stay safe and well as you remain in the grip of the Ultimate Daddy.

Grace+