REMEMBERING WINSTON LAYNE – FATHER AND FRIEND TO MANY.
Technically my dad was born December 31 – although his birth certificate, in contradiction, officially records the date as December 30, an error he accepted all his life, never attempting to have it changed. Not one to make a fuss about such things, he dutifully celebrated his birthday every year on December 30.
He was a very dutiful father, and although he had remarried while my brother, Dave, and I were still quite young, he kept in close contact with us, lending assistance and moral support throughout our development, and whenever any crises arose.
Our father had a long background in service organisations, starting from childhood when he joined the Cub Scouts, Boys Scouts, then Cadets and later the Barbados Regiment, where he served for many years. He was a drill sargeant and lieutenant and ended his military service as a reserve for parades.
He also served the Barbados Basketball Association and the James Street Methodist Church as a steward, and was a faithful teacher for the afternoon Sunday School group for decades, later being appointed Superintendent. My dad also enjoyed horseracing (as a sheer sport, not the betting aspect he was always quick to point out) and was the Chief Judge of the Barbados Turf Club for many years.
Also a music lover, he had a commanding bass voice, and played the bass guitar in the popular Silvertones band in the early 60s. The group had its genesis at his alma mater, Harrison College, where he taught Latin and Greek for a year after graduating, reporting for duty every day on his bicycle.
Our dad was, unmistakably, a disciplinarian, and this put us in good stead. From an early age, he wanted to lead and guide others on a positive path. He ran a tight ship, insisting that everything was well organised and in (perfect) order. He therefore set about to instill sound values in his offspring. From toddlers to early adults, rain or shine, every Sunday he faithfully took us to Sunday School. Funny enough, it was only years later that I became aware that many of the teenaged boys attending dared not approach me – for fear of the formidable Mr. Layne!
My dad was always very meticulous. He didn’t like ANYTHING out of order. As a school boy, he wouldn’t allow anyone in the home – including his mother, Irene – touch his things, so his desk was always laden with dust.
The story is told of one afternoon when his older sisters, Pauline and Jeannette, thought they would clandestinely use some of his ink to complete their homework. When he came in and went to his room, he immediately knew that some of the ink was missing. “WHERE is my ink?” he thundered. My aunts could not for the life of them fathom HOW he could have detected this at a glance! Such was his attention to detail.
After changing professions (from journalism to teaching), my dad, an accountant by profession, was there to offer me advice and financial backing when I started my private tuition business in 1998. He later showed me how to file my income tax return as a self-employed person.
Called to higher service the morning of August 16, 2020 we celebrate his life and his contribution to the family and the various organisations he served.
Until we meet again, continue to sleep in peace, Dad.
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