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A HOMAGE!
Once upon a time!

Almost 100 hundred years ago, in 1917, in the midst of the Second World
War a baby was born to Florence & Harry James in the London suburbs of
Stoke Newington. They named him Norman. Still as a baby his family moved
to Leytonstone in North East London, where he would spend most of his
childhood. Norman was the 4th in line of 6 children, large families being not
uncommon within a working class family like his in that era. He was described
as being a curious and on occasions mischievous lad.!

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Norman was blessed with strong, large hands; he learned quickly; electricity
was to become his trade and bikes, snooker, cricket and music his passions.
It was his knowledge of the former that made him useful to the british navy
when World War II broke out and he was sent overseas, at the
impressionable age of 22. Norman didnt know how to swim, but somehow
that was neither a deterrent or a problem to spend his war years on a battle
ship. Surviving the four years of service to his country he returned with
numerous medals for his efforts and bravery. He was employed by the
London Underground, where he spent the rest of his professional life, working
his way from technician to chief signal engineer. !

Much later he met Muriel, eighteen years younger than himself, while on
holiday in the Channel Islands. Little did he know, or maybe he did know that
he was about to fulfil his greatest dream, that of starting a family. Norman, at
43 married the woman of his life. It was 1960. !

They soon had a

son who was
followed eighteen
months later by a
daughter. Despite
his years, Norman
had the heart of a
child and played
untiringly with his
children, teaching
them all he could
about life, not from
books and ancient

theory, but from what he himself had experienced, experimented and

understood. !

Have I told you what happened on

ship in Burma? he would quiz them.
No daddy, tell us they would
squeal in delight, sitting up
attentively for the umpteenth telling
to unfold. He would often recount his
war stories over and over again, but
his children never tired of listening to
his adventures in faraway lands, in
awe of his courage. He showed his
humanity when expressing his
difficulties in sometimes accepting others who he believed were different to
him and to his map of reality and he revealed his integrity when, on
occasions, taking advantage of school holidays, he took his children to work
with him, where they were introduced to the reality of hard work, discipline, a
deep sense of responsibility and loyalty.!

Normans very large, strong and warm hands were agile and able and he
would constantly put them to good work on whatever needed doing around
the house.They were always at close reach for his children, when he jumped
them up and down on his
knees, to pick them up when
they fell, which they did
often, and to warm their
hands when they were cold.
He was as inflexible in his
discipline when his children
were out of line as he was
compassionate when they
needed his support. But he
never intruded on their
privacy. Being deeply private
himself he lived by a silent
code of mutual trust and respect, where love was more often felt than spoken.
He was not perfect by any means; like life, beauty is hidden in our
imperfections;
sometimes he would fall into moods that seemed
impenetrable for his wife and children to comprehend, oh but when he
laughed he did so with such vigor that the earth beneath their feet shook as

those present inevitably laughed with him, as the deep roar of the lion,
liberated by his humour and good will contagiously filled the air.!

Norman and Muriel later separated. Muriel remade her life. Norman didnt. He
didnt seem to need to start over. He continued to always be there for his
children, indeed his children were one of the biggest reasons for being in his
later life. He lived frugally and gave generously. He showed a humbleness
and acceptance, rare for someone of his generation, in accepting Muriels
new life and new partner as a genuine friend and second father figure to his
children. Muriel after all, remained the love of his life. Maybe he knew that all
of them had much more to gain than letting himself be dictated to by emotions
of jealousy, anger and frustration that would have been the path and
emotional warfare of many. Norman was a warrior in the war, but more
importantly he was a warrior of life, understanding that life is for living each
little moment with simplicity and unpretentiousness, where happiness is a
state of being, that no riches can ever buy and that no wealth can ever
substitute. A life where no single moment is ordinary, even though it might
appear so on the surface.!

Norman died, at the age of 97 on the 31st

December 2014, less than a month earlier than
the writing of these words. He had a good
innings, to quote what he would often tell his
family. Indeed he had had a very good innings.!

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In Loving Memory:!
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Norman was my hero. !
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He was my father.!
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My father died at Christmas, a time for many of us that is special for our
family, friends and reunion and a time for sharing what is most important. I
include this seasonal poem, somewhat out of season, in dedication to the
loving memory of a man who gave me the greatest gift of all, the gift of life,
who will always live on in my memories and my heart. Thank you daddy.!

The Christmas Way

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Christmas time is the start to an end

Of a year gone by leaving pieces to mend.

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Its the only way forward

The past is behind
Time to open our eyes
To a path undefined.

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Christmas time is the end of our year

The beginning of horizons new, yet unclear.
A time for illusions fresh, unfeared
For breaking those habits unwanted each year.

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Like the sun streaming in a window left open
Hope creeps into those hearts that are true to emotions
A spirit undaunted by a labyrinth unraveled
Truth versus lies left behind in the struggle.

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Life is so short to grasp what is reason

To understand all that is, and all that it isnt
reality or illusion, faith or belief
we have only the self to urge forth, break defeat.

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We have what weve given

We are what weve loved
Our spirit once shared is full to enjoy.

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A generous heart bears treasures unthought

A kiss, a hug, a few words of warmth.
The best part of Christmas is being together
Life is not endless but love is forever.

Poem written by Fiona James!

www.made2stick.es!
Painting by Conrad Borucki!
http://www.chipswork-art.com/tvas/borucki.html