There are people who go through their lives being of service to others, being in the background to make sure that others are the best that they can be. It wasn’t until now, writing this tribute, that I realized the connections between Dad’s hobbies, his professional career and his service to others.

So my father loved photography. He used to develop his own pictures, black and white. The picture at the back of the programme was his first selfie, that’s before these were a thing. He took great pride in taking the shot at the perfect angle.. and this was at a time when there was no digital anything. Then he had to wait for days to find out if the picture was taken correctly. As a result, he was always in the background, taking most of the pictures and putting everyone else in front. This was part of his persona to put others first and in front.

My father loved his high school and all that it stood for. One of the things that anyone who knew him would instantly associate with him was Kingston College. He was purple through and through. He however wasn’t able to get any of his sons to follow his footsteps there, but it was something you would need to understand about the man. He would insist, he would persuade but then it would be your decision.

My dad loved his chosen profession, he took ultimate pride in being accurate to the inch (or the millimeter) and patiently ensuring that plans were done accurately, without error, never ever cutting corners or accepting less than perfection, no matter what the pressure.

My dad loved his wife, Marcia, who made him happy for all these years. They would have celebrated 45 years last Saturday. They made an amazing pair and he would not do anything without her by his side.

Then there were his children, who he loved more than anything but where he probably had to make his biggest compromises, as none of us went to KC or became land surveyors. He however was immensely proud of us and our achievements, no matter how small these were.
For me, he was proud about things such as me completing the cross the harbour swim and getting the silver pen award. I would know by the number of times I heard him tell the story to others about how I withstood all the jellyfish stings.

I won't go any further with the list of things that he said he was proud of me for, as we do not have all day and my brother and sister have to say their part. I must however mention how proud he was of his grandchildren, each of whom formed their own special relationship with him.

What connected everything that I have told you thus far were his selflessness, high standards and principles – he expected this of his children and of others.

Daddy was also known for being an announcer at track and field meets notably Gibson Relays (at the time) and Champs. He would do research to ensure that he pronounced the names of the athletes properly. He aimed for perfection. He used to comment on the mistakes made by news presenters on TV and point out grammatical errors in the newspaper & send them in.

Daddy loved his family. He was its institutional memory and could always connect the dots between every member. He always stressed the importance of family and attending family functions to know each other. He kept the photos of everyone.

Daddy had a great sense of humour. He always liked a good joke, and he would never hesitate to share the latest one he received. He would laugh whether you got it or not. He would find the humor in almost every situation– I have to be careful how I share this one, but I feel the need to because it tells you the measure of the man and his sense of humour. In his hospital bed, barely speaking, he called me over to whisper in my ear. He said, Son, the nurses here are so thorough. My nether regions have never been this clean. It makes me wonder if I have not been doing it right all these years.

Daddy loved his sports – especially athletics and cricket. He followed the West Indies with their ups and downs and would watch athletics everywhere in the world. He became immersed in football because of us and became an avid supporter of Arsenal. It seems that Dad spoke to the powers that be up there in heaven and ensured that the trophy was brought home.

My last story on my perspective of my dad. When I was in university here, I insisted on buying a motorcycle with money earned from my summer job. He objected with one of his regular lines invoked when one of his children asked for too much money – God will provide your needs, what you want may cause you harm. I went ahead and bought the thing. It wasn’t a good purchase by any stretch of the imagination. The tyres were bald, it had half a muffler and you would hear it from miles away, there were oil leaks, it smoked black and blue. After about a month of seeing me struggle with it, he stepped in and did all that was necessary to repair the bike and make it safe – to make sure that it didn’t actually kill me. He was always there to support me, no matter what and no matter whether he agreed with me or not.

I will get off the mike now and allow my brother and sister to say something now.

Rest well Daddy. We will miss you.

Dane

To append to what my brother has just relayed, the man that we are here today to celebrate, is a man who lived his life with a clear compass, a man of unwavering discipline, deep faith, and, as we all know and Sheldon already alluded to, he was very sharp red ink pen.

He was a man filled with wit and unmatched sense of humor, one that many would assume he had a library of jokes hidden somewhere as he found one for every situation (even if it never drop in). There were some that took more time to translate into digestible humor than others. He would scourer the Internet in search or one that he could use at Kiwanis or any public speaking event. Oh and yes at the dinner table, we always had the privilege of being the test subjects for the new ones some that probably required a bit more refinement. We would often have conversations from which he would find some way to references a sparrow song.

To describe my father is to talk about a man who believed that character was not a gift, but a craft. He taught us that life wasn't about the "sudden flight" or seeking shortcuts. He often reminded us of that classic truth: “The heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight, but they, while their companions slept, were toiling upward in the night.” It felt like a broken record at the time, but I found that it stuck with me on my journey as that appeared to be his life’s mantra. He believed in the slow, steady, and honest work that builds a legacy. And would drive each of us to work hard towards success.

He was a man deeply rooted in his Christian faith. He had a way of cutting through the noise of life’s desires with a simple, humbling reminders: like how I remember it which was slightly different from how Sheldon put it was "What you need, God will provide; but what you want may …..." That was his way of teaching us to be content, to be grateful, and to understand the difference between ambition and greed. He was a firm believer in living within one’s means and finding peace in what you have earned. To him, "giving thanks for small mercies" wasn’t just a phrase, it was a daily practice of gratitude. To which I think he thought I needed strong reminders.

He was also a man of the word or should I say he had a love affair with the English language that most of us struggled to keep up with. I think I might be the primary subject of his critiques but I didn’t feel as bad when he was ready to correct the newspaper editors. He may have written a few letters to the Gleaner if I remember correctly. I grew up believing that Daddy felt that how you spoke and how you wrote reflected you as a person.

I admit, as a child, the sight of him picking up my schoolwork was terrifying. I knew that my teacher’s grade meant very little until it had passed through his review—and that usually meant more red ink on the page than white space.

As I grew older, I became, perhaps, the black sheep/ rebel of the three of us as I seemed to always test the patience of both my parents, but daddy more particularly and as he was tasked with being the disciplinarian, and often struggled to get through to me without challenging me (maybe even threatening me) in his own way pushing me to do better. Every time I slipped up in school he threatened to send me to KC and I found a way to surprise him. By Passing for Campion then getting into sixth form then getting into more than one university. Each step he pushed me.

I think he finally got used to the way that I speak as it would usually cause him to shake his head in frustration. I can hear him saying it now "We spent all that money for your education, and this is the result.." At the time, it was a battle of generations. Today, I realize he wasn't just being a stickler for grammar; he was teaching me that when you have been given opportunity, you have a responsibility to use it to elevate yourself and be apart of lifting up your fellow man.

It never occurred to me that Daddy could have been proud of me, with all the warnings and all the lectures I had to endure. I grew up asking for a lot and being reminded that anything you want you have to work for it. (I started hustling from high school as a result) These lessons stuck with me and possibly aided my entrepreneurial journey.

It was always strange having your father as the landlord, I used to think if I missed a rent payment I couldn’t face him if I went for dinner that Sunday, or that if daddy popped into my office to talk, I stated thinking did I miss anything what did I do wrong. But it was never that, I realized now that it was many time him relaying a story to make me realize that he was indeed proud. As I reflect this now makes me happy and sad at the same time. Let me focus on the positive and the fact I was privileged enough to see him almost every day and still get words of wisdom.

It is now clear he wanted each of us to be the best version of ourselves as we all had a different relationship with him and we would all have different conversations with each of us, as Sheldon already pointed out he wouldn’t force or push you in any direction you didn’t want, well… apart going to school lol,

While he may have come across in my early days as a man of strict rules, as I grew older to have children of my own I realized he was teaching me how stand on a footing of my own. He would say: Don’t lean on others be a man, stand on a footing of your own…. He wanted the best for us because he knew what we were capable of. He pushed us because he wanted us to reach those "heights" he so often spoke of.

Dad, I am grateful for every lesson, every "red-inked" correction, and every saying you taught me. I may not always get the grammar perfect, but I promise to carry your principles forward.

I hope you Rest well, knowing that you finished your work, you kept your faith, and you have left us with the tools to continue the journey of life and impart to the next generation how to be independent and keep toiling upward through the nights.

Diahann

My brothers have covered most things already, and just like Dad, they probably thought they were being brief — but I truly will be.

As Sheldon and Dane said, Daddy supported us in everything we did and was immensely proud of all of us. But I do feel that being the only girl — and the youngest — I was given a lot more leeway.

Daddy, as all fathers should be, was my protector… even when protection was needed from my siblings — well, really only from the one who came before me. God knew what He was doing, because my brother may have gotten bored easily and sometimes used harassing me as entertainment. Thankfully, I could usually get relief once I reported him to Dad.

That privilege may, however, have been overused. Dad loved to repeat the story about the day he saw me laughing behind a wall while he was scolding Dane. From then on, he learned to let us handle our own battles. Well… at least sometimes. Because being his daughter still came with certain advantages.

Daddy was a man of God, a family man, and a man with many passions. His love for track and field and photography was always evident. Dad always wanted to capture our moments through the lens of a camera. He also never shied away from technology and always tried to keep up with new improvements.

I remember my first trip to New York, when Dad got a brand-new camera. I believe it was around the time digital cameras were just coming out. And whenever Dad got anything new, he first read the instructions thoroughly. Just like with any new technology, there was always a “learning period.” Unfortunately for us, the learning period for this camera happened during the family vacation.

Every single picture required us to stand still for what felt like 10 to 15 minutes before the photo was finally taken. Every site, every gathering, every stop — there was always a wait. We began hoping he would forget the camera at the next attraction because taking one group photo seemed to take forever.

But that story says two important things about Dad. First, he always said, “People don’t read, even though the instructions are there.” He certainly did not fall into that category. Second, it showed his constant desire to get the perfect shot. In the end, we appreciated it because today we have those memories beautifully captured for us to cherish.

Dad and I also shared a love for musicals and old movies. While my brother hated seeing me watch them, Dad embraced it as our thing, and Dane could not fight it when Dad was around.

Dad and I knew the words to My Fair Lady, which he quoted from time to time — especially the line: “Why can’t the English teach their children how to speak?” It reflected his love for proper English and clear speech. He always wondered why people did not enunciate their words so they could be heard clearly.

As Sheldon mentioned, Dad took this very seriously. He would call radio stations when words were mispronounced and would even correct the The Gleaner from time to time. He believed people no longer took the care they once did.

Just as Dane said, Dad constantly told jokes and always tried to make us laugh. It is only now that I realise that as much as I used to tell Dad his jokes were corny, I have somehow become just as corny myself. Apparently, you just cannot escape genetics.

Unlike Dad, however, I was never one for the spotlight, so I will not attempt to compete with him there.

Dad was also a creature of habit, much like his own father, who ate by the clock and never answered whether he was hungry — only what time it was. The difference with Dad was that he almost never refused food once it was offered.

He taught us always to show appreciation, and he praised every meal placed before him. If you know the Spencers, you know we gather around food. Every Sunday, we sat together for Sunday dinner — and Sunday dinner was never truly Sunday dinner without rice and peas.

It was around that table that Dad taught us proper table etiquette. Looking back now, it is this simple Sunday routine — something that once felt so normal — that I will cherish and miss the most: seeing Dad sitting there with us.

Dad never failed to compliment the cooks — first dear Marc, and later even me. No matter what I cooked, Daddy always made me feel as though it was the most delicious meal he had ever eaten. Sometimes I wonder whether it was really that good or if he simply wanted to make sure I felt appreciated.

Dad himself was not much of a cook, but there were two things I remember him cooking: cornmeal porridge and sardine omelette.

Every weekday we had cornmeal porridge, and in later years he would make it himself. His sardine omelette became legendary — though I personally never participated in eating it.

But sometimes things skip a generation, because my son absolutely loves Grandpa’s sardine omelette. When I try to make it, Daniel always says, “Mum, make it like Grandpa, okay?”

Dad, we can never fully cover all the memories or the love you showed, because it was expressed in everything you did. We will miss you — your jokes, your corrections, and even the stories you repeated over and over again.

You left an imprint on all of us.

We thank God that you were our father, our protector, and our example.

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