My father was very clear that when it came time for him to be remembered, the good as well as the rough sides of his character were to be mentioned. Among the stories that best fulfill his wishes in this regard is one that endeared Dad to generations of his students at Knox College in Jamaica where he taught for many years. The incident took place during a staff-student football game. Dad was a rugby player by instinct but agreed to play in the match as it was for a good cause. One of the students playing against Dad that day was called Wally, a young man who had two left feet in football parlance and who should probably not have been playing in the game that day. Or in any other for that matter. Late in the match, Dad and Wally went for the same ball with Dad coming off very much the worse as he was scythed to the ground from behind. Wally instinctively extended his hand to help Dad up but it was batted away. Across his own chest came Dad's signature dismissive wave of his right hand as he rose to his feet and stormed off. As long as Wally was at Knox, he maintained that Mr. Murray had told him to "**ck off!" Wally was devastated and spent the rest of the game moping aimlessly around the pitch hoping for a quick end to the match. When the final whistle blew, more than eight hundred of pairs of eyes (mine included) were focused on Dad and Wally, wondering what would happen next. As traditional handshakes were exchanged between the staff and student players, everyone in the crowd and on the pitch watched intently as Dad made a beeline for Wally to whom he extended his hand and offered his profuse apologies. Wally raised his head, shook Dad's hand and smiled, genuine relief written all over his face. Dad, it turned out, was one of his favourite teachers. The crowd erupted in a deafening chorus of cheers. As long as Wally was at Knox, he maintained that Mr. Murray had offered him the most heartfelt apology he had ever heard. Two sides of the same man.

A postscript to the story and one that Dad was not aware of until many years later was that for the rest of my own time at Knox, I had students in Dad's classes walk up behind me and do their own impersonations of his colorful words to Wally that day. This went on for years. Dad thought this was hilarious, though he also apologised for the psychological harm that it might have done to his eldest son. There was none of course as many of his impersonators were some of his best students and it was, they insisted, a mark of respect for a man who taught them so much more than Biology. 

Godspeed Dad. I miss our conversations.

Roy