My Father James

In Australia; we celebrate Father's Day on the first Sunday in September. This year this special day falls on 6th September. While some countries celebrate Father's Day in June, the purpose of the day remains the same - honouring fathers and father figures for their role in families and communities. Their positional influence over their families, especially their children and young adults, is vital when raising them for the good of society.

In this essay I will share a little about my father who was the biggest influence in my life while I was growing up. This year marks twenty years since he passed away on Sunday 19th March 2006. As the anniversary is a significant one, I will share his story as a personal tribute to my father James.

Part 1 - James' early days

George and Lucretia with three of their earlier children circa: early 1900s (Source: Family Album)

James Steven Pereira was born on 1st May 1931 to George Pereira and Lucretia Pereira nee Varella. He was their eleventh and youngest child. I believe two others died at childbirth. James was born in what was known then as the 'Settlement of Malacca'. It was a British colony, as was the ‘Colony of Singapore’. James' parents were ethnically called 'Eurasians'; they had mixed Asian and European ancestry. As the British ruled these colonies most citizens were classed as British subjects and were free to travel across Singapore and the Malay peninsula. It is interesting to note that, in researching for this essay, I learned that Lucretia was born in 1888 in Singapore but died in Malacca in 1944. On the other hand, George was born in 1879 in Malacca but died in Singapore in 1952. I suspect at one point they lived in Malacca. After Lucretia had died, George took young James to Singapore where his older siblings had made their home.

James was ten years old when the Japanese invaded the Malay peninsula. I remember him telling me how he had to stand, sing the Japanese national anthem and salute the raising of the Imperial Japanese Army flag at the start of each school day. The war ended in 1945.

Coming across James' school leaving certificate, I found out that he attended St. Francis' Institution in his early years. It was located in Banda Hilir, Malacca. At the age of fourteen years, records showed that he enrolled in 1945 (probably after the war) at St. Patrick's School, in Katong, Singapore. He left school at the age of seventeen in 1947 "To seek employment" as was written on his leaving certificate. His conduct was recorded as "Excellent".

School boy James (right) with his friend circa: 1946 (Source: Family Album)

Part 2 - James worked at a bank in Singapore and loved his sports

My earliest recollection of my father James was when we lived in a small house on Haig Road in Katong. I would have been about three and a half years old, and I can still remember my second sister being born at home in November 1959. I also remember the Malay 'kampong' or village behind our residence where our 'amah' (a Malay word for domestic maid) lived. She would look after my first sister and me while James would head off to work, while our mother Patricia would be home looking after our baby sister. James was a back-of-office bank clerk working in the central business district of Singapore. Working in the bank was the only job I remember my father doing, until we migrated to Australia. Looking through pictures I suspect he stayed with the same company throughout his banking career.

James (front row) with management and staff of Dutch Bank, Singapore circa: 1952 (Source: Family Album)

My father took me to his work at the bank on a couple of occasions. He was well liked by many of his colleagues then. It was the case even when he worked in Australia. I would go so far as to say that he was liked by many people who knew him. My father James was a very relatable person; he understood the secret of communication; he showed care, empathy and was adapt at discussing various topics. He listened more than he spoke. He probably opened a conversation (in his younger days) by talking about sports. It was an ice breaker when talking to strangers as he had himself played many sports and followed local sporting news.

My father James receiving sporting awards, team pictures and playing football (Source: Family Album)

I do not recall seeing my father play sports, but in later years, my siblings and I discovered his many sporting trophies packed away in boxes. Sadly none have survived. However, there were numerous photos of him playing football (soccer), in team photos, and receiving trophies. James often appeared in the centre of group photos, suggesting he was a captain or key player. At home, he rarely spoke of his sporting achievements, but seeing photos of him being awarded trophies makes me proud.

My father James loved his sports from an early age. I suspect it was football which thrilled him most. He was even following the English Football League (now the English Premier League) when we were in Australia. Later in life he did Taekwondo, played badminton then Tai Chi to keep fit.

Part 3 - James notices Patricia in a crowd in Malacca

It was football that brought my mother and father together. As the story goes, when in their early twenties, James was playing a football match on tour in Malacca when he noticed my mother Patricia in the crowd. By this time, both his parents were deceased, and James had settled in Singapore. My mother Patricia, whose parents had also died was living with her uncle in Malacca. While they struck up a conversation, there was no thought of romance at that time. With my mother’s four brothers and a strict uncle, nothing could get past them especially when it came to anyone trying to get too friendly with her.

After their brief meeting in Malacca, Patricia and James went their separate ways. James returned to Singapore and continued working in the bank while Patricia remained in Malacca with her siblings living in their uncle’s house.

Some time passed when another match in Malacca brought James and Patricia together again. It was almost the same scenario as before when he noticed her in the cheering crowd. Only history knows if they had any foreknowledge of the trip and planned to both be at that football game. After the match James and Patricia continued their conversation which had prematurely ended earlier. How long James stayed in Malacca, as he had relatives there is again lost to history. Looking at pictures of them in their twenties, they would have made a handsome couple. My father James was a dashing young man with his Clark Gable thin moustache, and my mother Patricia, with her hazel eyes was as pretty and elegant as Elizabeth Taylor in her heyday.

James and Patricia in their younger days (Source: Family Album. Last photo has been colorized )

With their very close friends - I guess - helping to fan the flame of romance, it led both James and Patricia to a marriage proposal and acceptance. With the expected resistance in Malacca, Patricia - as the story goes - eloped and left Malacca to get married to James in Singapore.

The happy couple on their wedding day - 9th June 1956 (Source: Family Album)

They were married at the Church of St. Joseph Portuguese Mission, Singapore on 9th June 1956. James was twenty-five years old and Patricia was twenty-four years old. Patricia's only other uncle who also lived in Malacca attended the wedding. I believe he walked her down the aisle on that wedding day.

Part 4 - James and Patricia’s early years of marriage

As newlyweds with no family other than James' relatives in Singapore, their early days would have been challenging. They lived with his older siblings who welcomed the couple into their respective homes. This arrangement likely involved the newlyweds moving between family members until James could secure a home of their own.

Their greatest joy after their marriage [said with much humility], was the 'gift' Patricia gave to James with the birth of a son on his birthday and a month before their first wedding anniversary. [Yes, I share the same birthday as my father James' birthday on 1st May.]

James and Patricia with me (Source: Family Album)

James was very aware of the conditions he and his wife Patricia were living in. She, not having any family in Singapore had to live and accept the hospitality offered by her in-laws. As the story goes, there were the inevitable tensions that occurred. James had to balance providing for his wife and now mother of two, while having to maintain cordial relationships with his much older siblings and their families.

After living with various relatives during their early years, James and Patricia were finally in the position to move into their own place in Haig Road.

I had learned over time that my father James was very protective of his wife and children. He would do anything to ensure that 'the love of his life' was happy, safe and felt comfortable. He would regularly bring home a bouquet of flowers, often with carnations - his favourite flowers - to show his love for her.

There was another incident which showed James’ bravery and protective nature. I was just over three years old and my first sister aged two (born in 1958) when a thief broke into the house one early morning. James was awakened and chased the rogue away with whatever he could grab - a broom, I think. We lived in the house at Haig Road until we moved a year or two later to our final home in Singapore.

James continued his work at the bank, played sports when he could, and Patricia looked after her children and performed home duties as was the custom then. We did not travel much during that time, but we were happy playing with the local neighbourhood children.

Part 5 - From Haig Road to Queenstown

Queenstown was Singapore's first satellite town developed by the Housing & Development Board (HDB). With its neatly spaced-out flats and community centres Queenstown was ready in 1960 for tenancy applications. James applied for an apartment, and we moved to 164-F Tanglin Halt, Block 30. We lived there for eight years before migrating to Australia.

HDB Flats along Tanglin Halt, Queenstown 1960s (Source: Internet)

During the time we were living in Queenstown our family grew. A third sister was born in 1961. About six months, my father became very ill and almost died. He was even given the last rites. One day I was taken by my mother to see him in hospital. I can still remember my father James in his white hospital dressing gown walking slowly towards us. I handed him an apple I brought, and he hugged me. I believe on reflection God had a greater plan for him. He was discharged some weeks later.

When he was sick, he was asked, “what would you prefer to have children or money?”, he answered “give me children.” God blessed him with another son two years later in 1964. All his five children were precious to him. He would often say his children were each unique and different like the fingers on a hand.

Part 6 - James' new car and the love of his children

If I had to pick one thing that was also a delight for James' it was his new 4-door black Wolseley car. It was the first car he had bought. On the day he brought the car home he took Patricia and us children for a drive around the housing estate. It was one of the happiest days I can remember.

James enjoyed driving. He would take us to visit places like the botanical gardens and the aquarium, and during Christmas he would drive us to visit our relatives. The Christmas visitation was always a full day of driving from one house to another. However, there was one trip which was a real adventure for us. One day during our school holidays and before daybreak my father woke all of us children up, having earlier loaded the car with suitcases. Our parents would pack us in the car one-by-one for a road trip to see our mother’s uncle in Malacca. It was a trip which took over four-hours. The journey included a stop at the ‘half-way house’ - a frequent 'travellers’ stop - and it involved riding a people-and-car ferry across the Muar River [There is now a bridge over the river]. We did not do this trip often, but each time we did it, it was something we looked forward to.

People-and-car ferry over the Muar River on the way to Malacca (Source: Internet)

James, showed the love for his children when every morning he would sing a wake-up song, adapted from the 1952 film classic, Singin' in the Rain, "Good morning, good morning, it's time to wake up, so good morning good morning to you." And if someone was still having a hard time waking up, he would on occasions, piggy-back the late riser and take them to the washroom to get ready. It was often for school if we were enrolled in the morning session.

James often told this school story, as if to remind me of his love for me. He would say he took me to my very first day of school. I was just over five years old. After signing me in he would accompany me to my classroom. After a short while he would say his goodbyes, but instead of leaving immediately he would tell me how he would stay behind a pillar and peep to see if I had settled in the class.

My father James was a fair disciplinarian. We knew we had done wrong when he corrected us. He showed care too. He made sure that each of his children were given the best that he could afford. Whether it was a new pair of shoes, a shirt or dress for Christmas. It was the custom then to be well dressed for the Christmas Midnight Mass. In our fine clothes we would walk a short distance to the church. Often; we would wear the same outfit when visiting our relatives on Christmas Day.

Part 7 - Faith played a big part in James’ life

James and Patricia were very strong in their faith. They made sure that all of us followed the Catholic Church's sacramental obligations. They continued practicing their faith when they migrated to Australia. It was done with even greater fervour later in their lives. James became an acolyte at his local parish. Patricia volunteered at the book stall. Both knew Christ Jesus as their Lord. They acknowledged Him who brought them together, who sustained them during challenging times and during the joyful moments in their lives. They were both in service for Him when they were called to their heavenly home.

Part 8 - The decision to migrate to Australia

In the years leading to 1970, a major life changing milestone in our family took place. James and Patricia had earlier made the bold decision to apply to migrate to Australia. The second application was successful as Patricia's brother who was living with his wife and family in Perth, Western Australia (WA) agreed to sponsor us.

James and Patricia attended a function before leaving Singapore circa: 1970 (Source: Family Album)

James had to renounce his Singapore citizenship in order to withdraw his provident [superannuation] fund. We set sail in May 1970 on the liner MV Australasia. It took seven days to reach the Port of Fremantle in WA. Our belongings fitted in four shipping crates, with clothes in our suitcases.

As new migrants arriving in winter with its cold weather was a shock to us. I remember our parents buying warm clothes from a local charity-run store. Patricia's brother and sister-in-law welcomed us, and with six children of their own did their best to accommodate us.

James sacrificed a lot for his wife and family. Helped by my uncle to find employment, James new job was labouring in a factory. To say it was a 'culture shock' would be an understatement. There was a time when he had to, during the winter mornings catch a train to go to the warehouse where he worked. He would come home and showed us his callous hands from the labouring he had done. James’ loyalty to his work was evident similar to when he was working at the bank in Singapore. He held his last job for twenty-five years, being promoted to the position of Leading Hand before he retired.

Part 9 - The house at 65 Langler Street and James' new life

We did not stay long at my uncle’s as it was James’ desire to buy a house we could call our Australian home. After a few short rentals, and the money saved, James and Patricia co-signed the contract of sale for a house at 65 Langler Street, in East Victoria Park, a Southeastern suburb of Perth. This was in September 1971. Being resilient as he was and, with the help of his beloved Patricia, our house at Langler Street became a cosy, friendly and warm place for us and visitors. We had relatives and friends visit us. Some even stayed over while on holidays.

Our home at 65 Langler Street (Source: Family Album)

James being the ever-popular gentleman, was 'a man of the people'. He was able to relate to people of different ethnicity. Quoting the words from the Bible he was like the apostle Paul, "To the Jew I became like a Jew" and "to the weak I became weak... I have become all things to all people...that I may share in its blessings" (1 Corinthian 9:19-23).

Whenever James met someone from another country, he made the connection by giving the classic ‘James Bond’ smile. He would try to say "Hello" in either Italian, Tamil, Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese, Portuguese, Malay or Spanish. Some greetings were learnt in Australia. He would be brought back to reality when they would respond with a string of foreign words which James would then have to resort to English, often with another smile. James loved languages. Later in life he even enrolled in Mandarin and Spanish language classes.

He always made himself relatable. When he met a Chinese person, he would say that he had Chinese blood. If he met an Indian or Sri Lankan, he would call them cousins. He was a friend to all people. He treated them all the same. His loyalty to his friends was unquestioned.

James also loved travelling which just showed that he still had gallons of that Portuguese pioneering blood in him. My parents visited me and my family in Melbourne many times. It was in late 2005 when James and Patricia made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. It was a trip long in the planning and a lifelong ambition. It also enabled him to visit his old friends and relatives in both Malacca and Singapore. They returned home in January 2006. I believe it was divinely orchestrated because little did anyone know that it would be the last trip James and Patricia would make together.

My parents remained together at Langler Street until James’ passing in 2006. The house was finally sold after Patricia's death in 2018 after being the family home for forty-seven years.

Part 10 - That fateful week in James’ life when God finally called him home

It was a weekend in March 2006 which started a chain reaction that changed our lives forever. On 11th March - a Saturday - my father James and mother Patricia were having afternoon tea with my sisters, as they often did around the kitchen table.

By 2006 I was well settled with my wife and two young adult children in Melbourne; a four-hour plane flight east of Perth. I had moved to Melbourne in 1981 after a work transfer.

It was evening in Melbourne when my phone rang with my sister sounding hysterical saying that our father was coughing blood. There was nothing I could do, though I knew the family were unsettled. In the end we, at least I, had put the incident to something minor. However, the same coughing episode happened the next day - a Sunday. This time my sister was sobbing over the phone. The family in Perth had arranged to take James to the Royal Perth Hospital. I was unable to fly immediately and the earliest I could get there was later that week.

My wife and I saw my father in hospital on the evening of 17th March - a Friday. That day was also my mother's birthday, but understandably there was no celebration. That morning however, James who loved his wife Patricia after fifty-two years of marriage, had a surprise for her when she visited him. While still in hospital, he had arranged and presented her a bouquet of flowers and wished her.

My father James surprised mum with a bouquet of flowers on her birthday17th March 2006. This was two days before he died. (Source: Family Album)

After visiting my father James, we learnt that his prognosis was a lung/breathing issue, but the good news was that he could return to his home. However, he had to have a breathing apparatus permanently set up at home with an oxygen mask and tank. I did not visit him the next day - a Saturday - as there was an expectation that he would be returning home.

At around 3am Sunday morning we had a phone call from the hospital advising us to come over immediately to see my father as he was unconscious, breathing heavily and had a matter of hours to live. Family and close relatives were with him when he died on that Sunday morning, a week after the coughing episode.

I believe James' death was divinely appointed. Because soon after his passing, the church bells at St. Mary's Cathedral located next door to the hospital rang out for the 7am Mass. We attended Mass that morning. In John Donne's (1572-1631) prose work 'Devotions upon Emergent Occasions' he writes the often-quoted phrase "for whom the bell tolls - which marks the death of a part of us, but also because it is a reminder that we ourselves will die one day.”

A period of heaviness fell upon the family home at Langler Street. Having only planned to stay for a few days, my wife and I ended up staying for a few weeks to see to the funeral arrangements. Personally, it was the hardest and saddest thing I had to do; arrange the funeral for my father James.

Conclusion - Eulogy and legacy

At his funeral service, I concluded his eulogy with these words, "Above all he [James] loved God. He walked in the Lord’s footsteps of humility, compassion and love. He was also a peace maker and tried to find common ground. Short of becoming a minister of the Gospel, he lived the Gospel every day of his life. And for that he can claim the promise that for all those who walk with the presence of God and live in His ways will hear the Lord say, “well done good and faithful servant."(Matthew 25:23). Pa now in heaven can look forward to receiving his many crowns deserving of a great man he was."

[Footnote: The name "James" has entered into our family's lexicon of quotes. Often when I, my children or even our second grandson (whose middle name happens to be James) randomly starts conversing with a stranger we would say, "You're being a James."]