John the Man by Richard and Alastair Usher

[anna]

Rich – blue Al – green

Dad was a man who loved life. His warmth, humour and kindness touched many people far beyond the realms of public and professional. We want to celebrate some of these characteristics (some may say endearing eccentricities!) with these scenes from a life well lived.

1. Mr Boni’s Ice Cream Parlour, Edinburgh, 1982

Ah, the appetite! Our Friday evening post-swimming trip to Mr Boni’s was truly a treat for all the family. Dad frequently and unashamedly referred to himself as the dustbin. But gluttony this was not. A man of his time, of the ration years, it was fundamental for Dad that you appreciate what you have. And appreciate he did.

His appetite for life – and remarkable energy – was informed by a real appreciation of it, of the fragility and preciousness of life. Perhaps some of this, alongside his interminable bookishness, came from time spent ill in bed as a child?

Whatever, anyone who came within 50 feet of him will have heard the inimitable laughter of the man – the laughter of a man who really liked simple, proper fun. This was, after all, someone who made no pretence about the real beneficiary of the hours spent setting up a train set, ostensibly for his grandchildren.

Now that we are both fathers ourselves, we can begin to recognise and understand his way of being our father. Almost always more patient than we deserved, he gave us real freedom, but also the compass to explore that freedom.

Above all, and ever more clear to us as we grew up, nothing was ever too much trouble for Dad. We knew, as did Mum, that he would always be there, to help, without keeping the score, minding the tally.

2. John Bunyan, Wheathampstead, Hertfordshire, 1986

When we lived in St Albans, we used to cycle out in search of the origins of John Bunyan, author of ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’ and protestant dissenter. Dissent isn’t something that we immediately think of with Dad. However during our time in St Albans he showed this strength in taking the lead on a parent steering committee to save our school from amalgamation, his legal expertise enabling him to out-manoeuvre local politicians.

His view of the world did not include the vanity and superficiality that modern life often flings at us. It is odd to remember how frequently he would begin a sentence with the phrase "cynic that I am". Perhaps he genuinely thought he was cynical. Pragmatic, certainly, sceptical, yes – but at a fairly fundamental level he was, if anything, the opposite of a cynic. And he didn’t do lying.

He was certainly unconcerned by ‘looking good’ – both in the social and sartorial sense. Which is not to say he didn’t, although Mum takes most of the credit for sartorial achievements! His early commitment to fuel economical but highly unreliable small Italian cars is a further example of his laudable motivation beyond prestige and social standing!

So, he was a man with his own views and values, capable of voicing these articulately, but perhaps the only thing he really loathed – other than pickled walnuts – was conflict, and violence. And he lived by this. He was a truly peaceful man, a gentle man. This is not to paint a picture of a saint. But there was, perhaps, something of the pilgrim, and a pilgrim who understood the joys of the journey. Not for nothing was the ‘John Bunyan’ that we visited a public house.

3. Christmas in Exwick, 1990

During our second stay in Exeter we engaged in much family music-making, the high point of which normally occurred over mince pies and mulled wine with our neighbours and sterling friends at Hamlyns House.

Music was nothing less than a passion for Dad and, with Mum, he planted the seed of that passion in us. His was not a merely high-minded appreciation of music. He got his hands dirty. Quite literally in the case of his support to Mum in organising the Mint orchestra and the Singing for the Brain sessions – professor turned roadie, he claimed. He was also, of course, a keen cellist and aspirant double bassist. His band, the EMG Symphony Orchestra, will be joining with Exeter Festival Chorus to give a Concert in his memory this Saturday.

4. Scout Scar, Lake District, 1997

Our family found particular delight in clambering around Scout Scar in the Lake District. The last time we were all there was after Jim, Mum’s father, died in 1997. Having lost his own parents much younger, Dad gave unstinting support to Mum in the many demanding years during which her parents played out their last years in the key of dementia.

Naturally, we’ve spoken a lot about our Dad, as Dad, but he was before this a brother to David and a loving husband to Mum. He was also a well-practised grandfather to Robbie and Ollie. He never got to meet his third grandson, Yann, born two weeks after his death.

The vitality of the grandchildren, the next generation, rushing fearlessly and boisterously into an unmade future, gives us all strength and hope.

5. End

Let’s be clear. Dad wanted to be, as the poet Rilke has it, "the ringing glass that shatters even as it rings".

He died at the peak of his powers. Maybe none of us in the family quite realised just how high he had climbed. But his professional trajectory strongly suggests that it is possible to be successful without parting from one’s vital moorings.

His approach was always "show, don’t tell" – some things are better unspoken. Yet for us there was not so much left unspoken – words that needed to be said, sentiments and mutual assurances imparted.

He loved us and we loved him. This we know.

The Way Dad Did.

I’ll never whistle the way dad did.

I can’t wear a panama hat at the angle dad did.

My fingers don’t click the way dad’s did.

My eyebrows don’t bounce the way dad’s did.

I don’t play the cello the way dad did,

With my tongue popping out the way dad’s did!

I don’t wear a shirt and tie at breakfast the way dad did.

Or clear up after my family the way dad did!

I’ll try to bake a gammon the way dad did.

I’ll share good times the way dad did.

I’ll walk in beautiful places the way dad did.

I’ll put family first, the way dad did.

Thank you dad

For all you did.

You made me feel

Happy to be me.

[anna]

This is a tribute read by John Usher's two sons at his memorial service. Yoo Young-ae

[문희곤목사]

감사합니다. 안그래도 꼭좀 자세히 알고 싶었었는데... 집사님 너무 감사합니다. 저의 귀감을 삼고 살겠습니다. 저는 너무 부족해서요. 다시 감사를 드립니다. 샬롬

[anna]

Me too. I still have many shortcomings as a parent after 26 years of parenting. But I think while we try to learn from the mistakes and also from children, our God will give us wisdom. Yoo Young-ae