Celebrating the Life Of
Martin Geoffrey Strawson
11th August 1977 to 3rd December 2007-12-07
Order of Humanist Service
Led by Mr Abe Alpren
Monday, 17th December 2007 at 12.30 pm
Redditch Crematorium
Pall Bearers
David Strawson
Steven Lees
Oliver Chapman
Daniel Eley
Daniel Norton
Alec McCutchen
ENTRY MUSIC
'These were the days of our lives' By Queen
Sometimes I get the feelin'
I was back in the old days - long ago
When we were kids when we were young
Things seemed so perfect - you know
The days were endless we were crazy we were young
The sun was always shinin' - we just lived for fun
Sometimes it seems like lately - I just don't know
The rest of my life's been just a show
Those were the days of our lives
The bad things in life were so few
Those days are all gone now but one thing is true
When I look and I find I still love you
You can't turn back the clock you can't turn back the tide
Ain't that a shame
I'd like to go back one time on a roller coaster ride
When life was just a game
No use in sitting and thinkin' on what you did
When you can lay back and enjoy it through your kids
Sometimes it seems like lately - I just don't know
Better sit back and go with the flow
Cos these are the days of our lives
They've flown in the swiftness of time
These days are all gone now but some things remain
When I look and I find no change
Those were the days of our lives - yeah
The bad things in life were so few
Those days are all gone now but one thing's still true
When I look and I find
I still love you
I still love you
Death is a very personal matter for those who have experienced it in someone close to them, but we are all concerned, directly or indirectly, with the death of an individual, for we are all members of one community, and no one of us is independent and separate. Though some of the links are strong and some tenuous, each of us in joined to all the others by ties of kinship, love and friendship, by living in the same neighborhood or town and country, or simply by our own common humanity.
Martin was born in Congleton, Cheshire and attended Blackfirs Primary School and then went on to Heathfield High School. After a time at the Shell company at Ellesmere Port. Then Martin went on to Cambridge and then Martin spent a year at Birmingham University studying Biology and French. Martin always had an interest in languages and was more than a bright individual who was intelligent with a lively mind and intellect. Martin had lots of interests hill walking, hiking particularly in the Lake District. Skiing was another of Martin's recreations and his choice of music was across the board and eclectic. A wide and vast circle of friends many here today, and I am sure there are many who for whatever reason cannot manage to be here to say their own personal goodbye. As many of his friends would confirm, Martin was an organiser who would enjoy and company and sociable atmosphere of those who were in his company. As far as Martin's eating habits were concerned, his choice was wide and covered all ethnic varieties as many will verify. Not a drinker, but would enjoy a social drink with those he was with, with wine being his choice. Martin was a great traveler and visited Japan, South Africa, Canada and the USA and all over Europe on holiday. Martin was not a mechanical minded person but drove a car as a means of getting from one place to another. Martin chose to do a variety of charity work and your donations to those Martin supported are stated in the 'Order of Service'. A very broad sense of humour with political satire being the sort of programmes Martin watched on television. The News Quiz and Dead Ringers on radio and all political and news and current affairs were of great interest for Martin. I was told Martin was a very fit man and he swam, walked and cycled and was always on the go, and his death at work on his desk at the Students Appeals Office at Birmingham University was totally unexpected and sudden. Martin often said his years at Birmingham University were the most productive and happiest of his short life, cut short so very prematurely. I did not have the privilege of knowing Martin and that is my regret, as I am told I would have found him to be a most pleasurable young man to meet. I would now ask Colin, Martin's father, to pay his tribute.
A Father’s Tribute
Colin Strawson
You were a beautiful little boy - our beautiful boy - with those blond curly locks, which your Mum refused to cut off.
Your deep strength of character emerged virtually within a few weeks after you entered the world. You were a careful lad. You never attempted anything potentially dangerous - instinctively performing a risk assessment before undertaking new tasks.
I remember how you practised climbing out of your cot - going a little bit further each time. You never fell out until one day you simply did it - your first step to freedom.
You devoured as much information as we could feed to you - yet pressed for more. "Read it again daddy" you'd say - well past your bedtime.
You made friends so easily; your birthday parties were always well attended and great fun.
Your thirst for knowledge accelerated as you grew up, and you set yourself high standards that to you, a 95% result, was a failure. We could never stop you working. Or talking!
Your academic achievements were of the highest caliber demonstrating your exceptional brainpower, for which you were awarded so many prizes; we lost count.
So - it was not so easy for you to accept my words of wisdom to you. You were quite challenging, sometimes refusing to accede to many valid points I made in our discussions. This characteristic, you remarked, was from your genetic inheritance - but I am not sure where that particular trait came from!
I remember our discussions on religion and genetics on returning with your luggage to Birmingham campus one term. In full flow you remarked:- "From the genetic point of view Dad your role is over, now that you have passed on your genes to me - that's it for you biologically". I said little but chuckling inwardly I thought "how would you get back to College with all this stuff?"
Yet I knew how much you needed me son, through all the hard times you faced - and good. And when the good times returned when you came back to Birmingham it thrilled me to have seen you so happy. Your love for me showed through so strongly in the last year of your life.
Yes, my genetic code has passed to you and how destructive that has proved. I am left with the role which no father should face ~ that of tending to his son's passing. This is not the order of things.
I will not dwell on these morbid thoughts; we are here to celebrate your amazing life. You have achieved so much in the short space of time given to you.
My lasting memories will be of your deep caring nature, as your friends here will testify; you deep sense of right and wrong; your passionate interest in world events and most of all, the joy you brought to others which will live on in their memory. Rest in Peace my son, our beautiful boy.
Thank you Colin
Now David, Martin's elder brother, to make his personal contribution.
Brother’s Tribute
David Strawson
I'm reminded of a line in a poem by Yeats, it goes....
"Some burn damp faggots, whilst others may consume, the entire combustible world in one small room"
That was Martin, never just plodding along he lit the world with his flare. From the moment he started totalk he was always questioning and inquisitive.
On family walks he would point out how, being smaller, he would have to walk twice as far as the rest of us.
Playing 20 questions and the answer always being Floella Benjamin, and us just laughing.
Later at the local pub quiz we had tied first place (thanks to Martin) and the tie-break question was.....
"When the light shines on Big Ben, what does it mean?"
No, none of us knew either, but then Martin confidently answered.....
"It means parliament is in session".
He was, of course, right.
I will never forget you, or your flare Martin, and I will miss you - so - so - much.
Thank you David.
Now this song by Carly Simon sung by Dik Cadbury
Spoken by Dik Cadbury before sang
“I sang this at my Mother's memorial service. It was written by Carly Simon who perhaps had thoughts of her own mortality. This is the chorus, if anybody wishes to please join in”
That life
is eternal
And love is immortal
And death is only a horizon
Life is eternal
As we move into the light
And a horizon is nothing
Save the limit of our sight
Save the limit of our sight
Music
“Life is eternal”
by Carly Simon, sung by Dik Cadbury accompanied on his guitar
I've been doing a lot of
thinking
About growing older and moving on
Nobody wants to be told that they're getting on
For a long, long stay
But just how long and who knows
And how and where my spirit will go
Will it soar like Jazz on a saxophone
Or evaporate on a breeze
Won't you tell me please
That life is eternal
And love is immortal
And death is only a horizon
Life is eternal
As we move into the light
And a horizon is nothing
Save the limit of our sight
Save the limit of our sight
Here on earth I'm a lost soul
Ever trying to find my way back home
Maybe that's why each new star is born
Expanding heaven's room
Eternity in bloom
And will I see you up in that heaven
In all it's light will I know you're there
Will we say the things that we never dared
If wishing makes it so
Won't you let me know
That life is eternal
And love is immortal
And death is only a horizon
Life is eternal
As we move into the light
And a horizon is nothing
Save the limit of our sight
Save the limit of our sight
Thank you Dik.
To follow Oliver Chapman will read this poem attributed to Mary E Frye.
“Do not stand at my grave and weep”
Attributed to Mary E Frye
Read by Oliver Chapman
Do not stand at my grave
and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
Thank you Oliver
Now Sharon Keeley with her contribution
A Friend's Tribute
Sharon Keeley
Through the years my path was touched with many people's, but none have left such lasting memories in my heart as Martin has, as he has in all of our hearts.
Martin always embraced new friendships, but never forgot his old friends. He took a genuine interest in them. His diary was always jam-packed with plans he had made. He was always fantastic fun to be with. The time flew, filled with jokes and laughter. He would throw himself into long animated discussions on almost any subject. This once caused him injury when he launched into such a discussion while testing boiling hot pasta.
Martin has an enormous appetite for life, as well as for food. Whether it was holidays, walks, theatre trips, evening classes, or playing twenty questions in the dark, Martin delighted in it.
Martin's life may have been shorter than average, but he packed more love, friendship, fun and experience into it than many people manage in a hundred years.
We should try to overcome our sorrow that Martin's life has ended and rejoice that we were privileged enough to share it with him.
Thank You Sharon
Now this poem 'Unseen Horizons' which has been written and will be read by Martin's friend, Rachel McClusky.
A poem from a Friend
“Unseen Horizons”
Written and read by Rachel McClusky
Cry no more tears, though you heart still feels sorrow
Cast out your fears; morning follows the night
Although it’s hard, you must think of tomorrow
Take hold of my hand. We’ll walk into the light
Memories remain, although now they will hurt you.
Time is a healer, soon pain will be gone.
Somewhere still, Martin is there to support you
Knowing this, you’ll find the strength to go on
Sunbeams slant out of a sky, grey in mourning
Flowers shine out of the dark barren earth.
It’s time let go, as you face a new dawning.
Conquering death, each day brings re-birth.
I know that he knows each success, every sadness.
I’m sure he would want us to follow our dream
His spirit will share all our moments of gladness
Watching us now, from horizons unseen
Thank you Rachel
You can take this time to pray, reflect and meditate in memory of Martin and listen in silence to this aria by Mozart
Music
Soave sia il vento’, Act I, Così fan tutte
W.A. Mozart
Gillian Davis, another of Martin's many friends, would now like to pay her tribute.
A FRIEND'S TRIBUTE
Gillian Davis
Since Martin's death, many of his friends and colleagues around the University have told me about how they knew him, and about their experiences of working with him. I was not surprised by the number of people Martin had worked with and had become friends with.
You will have to forgive me if your comments and memories are not included today, but there are far too many people and stories to tell you about; far too many friends to mention and far too much heartache to talk about.
So I am afraid you will not hear about the time Martin nearly knocked Christine Abbot (the Academic Registrar) off her feet, or about his disagreements with the Corporate Services Quiz Master, and definitely not about his lunch with the girls. Nor will you hear me saying goodbye to Martin, because that is something that I and many of my colleagues are not prepared to do right now. Perhaps today will be the start of the farewell process for many people, but it will certainly not be the end.
Today I will tell you about how we as colleagues, knew Martin.
Martin was the loud one. He burst into our division will all the noise, passion, overpowering enthusiasm and tenacity we eventually became accustomed to.
It was quite a shock when he first joined our small, quiet team. He was quite different to the man I remember arriving for interview, quiet, a little withdrawn. It was not until much later that Martin told me he had limped to that interview, literally days after having surgery, and how, from his hospital bed he had instructed his father on how to complete the test that was part of the application process. At first I was shocked, but as I got to know Martin I realised that this was entirely normal behaviour.
To us Martin was indeed the noisy colleague, the colleague who sprinted along corridors, who sprinted to meetings, who sprinted to see students, who sprinted everywhere. He was the colleague who would always say yes, who was always involved, who always finished the job, who was always perfect.
We knew Martin as the one that made the boring work fun, our quiz team-mate, our Step hen Fry, our occasional drinking partner, provider of Indian food, semi-vegan scones and hysterical stories about the mysterious disappearance of his liqueur chocolates and loaf of bread. But most of all we knew Martin as the genuine one, the reliable one, the supportive one, and eventually, as our friend. Jackie Harris, our line manager, said that she thought Martin had done 60 years worth of living in the 30 that he had. I have to agree, but I am sure Martin wouldn't. I'm quite sure that he was not satisfied with
His achievements and know that there was no limit to his hopes and dreams.
I would so much like to hear Martin tell me all about those hopes and dreams. I am so sad that I won't be able to go out for lunch with him when I start my new job, to tell him all about it, to ask his advice, to hear about his latest battle, and his latest calamity. I am so sad that I won't ever get to visit the house he was so proud of and won't be able to get his advice on my next challenge or my next trip to lKEA.
But most of all I am so sad that nothing and no-one is ever going to fill he huge void left in his wake.
Who is going to re-write the University regulations now? Who is going to police our team's swear box? Who is going to write those long e-mails? Who is going to know all the names of Britney Spears' children and what sport the Iroquois Indians play?
I don't know the answer to those questions, except to say that it won't be Martin. And that is going to take a long time to get used to.
Thank you Gillian.
To follow Dik Cadbury will recite this piece by Canon Henry Scott-Holland.
POEM
“Death is Nothing at All”
By Canon Henry Scott-Holland read by Dik Cadbury
Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever meant
It is the same as it ever was
There is absolute unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner
All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost
One brief moment and all will be as it was before
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
Thank you Dik