Tributes from the Immediate Family of C. Evans Bailey
How do you pay tribute to a Great One who profoundly created you?
A favorite quote?
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
(Omar Khayyam)
A favourite deed?
Rising early in the morning to wake the home with classical songs on the piano, followed by cleaning and polishing everyone’s shoes for every school day!
Taking us to the beach to play while he stayed in the Austin Station Wagon, composing his latest sermon or speech….
Never ever missing a Sports Day…
Getting me the best coaches as a budding half miler that helped me win many school championships…..
Celebrating each birthday at the stroke of midnight with candles and cakes….
Surprising me abroad in my first year of university when I was a UN Youth Delegate and he sat in on a United Nations ceremony to see Michael Manley receive the Anti Apartheid Award.
This intellectual giant with a flair for Greek, Latin, Hebrew, French and Spanish was called to ministry after considering studying Medicine at Howard University. He was guided by (Uncle) Revd. Ephraim Alphonse, himself a genius adventurer who translated the whole bible to remote indigenous tribes.
What an idyllic world full of purity and perfection you bequeathed to us, Daddy!
Your spirit is sorely needed in the world of climate change deniers and the fake news of today.
His work with (Uncle) Dr. Phillip Potter and many other ecumenical pioneers, developing the ecumenical spirit and the institution of the National Leadership Prayer Breakfast which endures to this day.
We love you, our gentle giant. You will be missed.
Fair winds; smooth sailing we will join you one day in Paradise.
Selah
C.Stanford Bailey
Abduna Monmomatapa
Billy (Son).
I thank God for the privilege of being born to godly parents.
I will be forever grateful to Daddy for the pivotal role he played in leading me to faith in Jesus Christ. This happened in 1973, at the first Groundings among Methodist Youth (GAMUT) Camp at Barbary Hill, Lucea. It was there I recall for the first time, hearing him share his own spiritual journey: his amazing testimony of how he came to faith in Christ. This was also the first and only occasion I ever heard Daddy share about his life with Mummy Lois and those early years of ministry where they personally witnessed God at work in many miraculous and powerful ways. A few of those incidents he recounted, coincidentally, actually taking place in that very manse at Barbary Hill!
As busy as Daddy was in his public ministry, he found time to be Dad. Each Saturday night, he insisted that we left all our (church and school) shoes outside our bedroom doors, and as his act of service for the family he would collect, clean and polish them till they shone like new. When we awoke on Sunday morning, there were the shoes, transformed overnight into squeaky clean, brightly polished, shoes neatly lining the hallway outside our doors!
Family was important to Daddy. Special family times were long trips in the car travelling around the countryside of Jamaica, whether this was accompanying Daddy as he headed to preaching assignments or to deliver the Sunday School examination papers to each circuit in the district. We would have been up with him late the nights before, as we toiled over the Gestetner machine at the Saxthorpe Church office, printing the papers, then collating and stapling them. We would then pack them along with the whole family into the trusty Austin Cambridge Station Wagon. As we journeyed, he kept us engaged, telling us Anancy and Big Boy stories. Daddy (who often referred to himself as, “poor mi madda fus pickney boy chile”) always had a sense of drama and would reserve the special stories of “Rolling Calf” and “Teeth Like These?” for nightfall. While we were often scared to death, we nevertheless felt safe knowing he was there and that God was with us as we never left on a journey without first praying to God for journeying mercies.
Daddy made music a central and essential part of our family life. Because of his love of music, it was woven into the very fabric of our family life and enveloped our family everywhere we went. Music was the soundtrack to all of our family traditions, especially those associated with the special holidays of Christmas and Easter! Every Christmas morning, we would be awakened for 6:00 am service by Daddy playing the triumphant bars of:
Christians awake, salute the happy morn
Whereon the Savior of the world was born.
And for Easter morning we would be awakened by him playing loudly on the piano:
There’s a light upon the mountains,
and the day is at the spring, When our eyes shall see the beauty and the glory of the King; Weary was our heart with waiting, and the night-watch seemed so long, But His triumph-day is breaking, and we hail it with a song.
I am especially thankful to Daddy for his encouragement of my own faith walk. Much of it was nurtured though our weekly Saturday morning tradition of family devotions at the breakfast table. It was here that we engaged as a family in many theological (among other) discussions that took on greater meaning for me as I grew in my own faith. This very special family time spent in the Word, together with his clear and distinct encouragement of me helped me gain confidence to become more involved with ISCF, and in the Camp Ministry and other similar activities, which strengthened my own faith in Jesus.
For this encouragement and the example of faith and love you have provided: thank you Daddy! That faith has saved and enriched my life.
“Faith of our fathers, holy faith! We will be true to thee ‘till death.”
Betty (Daughter).
Dad, this possibly is the most painful experience of my life. No matter how much I knew that it was going to happen did not make it any easier for me. I took it for granted that having always been there, you would still be here with me and, maybe you still are.
One of my earliest memories is standing beside you, holding on to your robe while you preached, just to feel safe and secure. That is what your presence has always been to me up to the times when you, who had listened and carried the pain and problems of so many people, had your own concerns and you visited my office just to relieve yourself of these.
Family is the word which I will always associate with you because you never missed an opportunity to instill its importance, whatever the forum.
You are the humblest person that I have ever known, so much so that people could not be angry at you when you opposed them. Your humility even embarrassed me at times when I thought you should be otherwise. The wider public will speak about the various positions you held and the citations given to you, but the greatest one of all is that of FATHER.
The mark that you have left I at no time ever thought to attempt to follow. As a youngster, I once asked you why it was that you did not teach me about being a man, and your response was that you were doing this by example. In this day and age, when I tell people about you it is as if I am telling a story.
Seven children and yet everyone felt special (although I know that I was your favorite). That is no mean feat.
If only my own children could be proud me of me with a tenth of the pride that I have for you then I would know that I was not all that bad. Trying to find faults in you is impossible. Yes, there are things that I wish you would have done differently but they were not wrong.
In the end, DADDY, my tribute to you is that you are the best father that any one could want and have.
When your eulogy is read it would be best that the speakers talk about the bad things rather than the good for if they spoke about the good, we will never leave.
John (Son).
It is hard to put into a few words what Dad has meant to me. That said, it has been tremendously gratifying to read and hear all the many stories/remembrances from family and friends of how he has impacted their lives in many ways big and small. These range from signing their first bible as a child (that they still have), to the many weddings he performed, sermons he preached that impacted many in different ways, to just being the calm, yet powerful, quiet yet insistent, stern yet playful, pastor, father, daddy, friend.
For me, as a son, I will cherish the memories of him shoulder dancing and banging on the steering wheel while we made a family trip to mango walk or the beach. And singing- always singing. Hymns, the Bailey Family song (boom-a -lacka!). Dad taking us down through the cocoa plants on the side of the hill to aunt Birdie’s house in Clarendon. Embarrassing me by calling me ‘Pablocito’ in front of my friends as he shut down the late night table tennis playing in Pembroke Hall. His early morning playing (banging?) on the piano on Sunday mornings to get us up and going- especially on Christmas morning. Dad leading our Saturday morning devotions. Praying with us, crying with us, singing, dancing and playing with us. Giving us chores in the morning and smiling as we went off to the movies on Saturday afternoons.
But most of all I remember “the talks”. Good and bad. The stern talks when my grades were not what they should have been (sometimes accompanied by some more…physical reinforcement) and the twinkle in his eye when I graduated. His sarcasm: “[Y]es master, well you must know better than me”, to his shameless sharing of his emotions. And largest within all, was his sharing of his faith. His love of God and of family. His whole family- immediate family, brothers sisters, wife, children, children's home, YMCA, and the many Methodist church families. His pastor/brothers. The gardener, the groundsman at the church, the gas (petrol?) station attendant… he seemed to give the same level of intense listening to everyone no matter who you were. Sometimes I wished we didn’t have to share him with so many, and later I loved that we were blessed to be able to do so.
C. Evans Bailey was many things to many people but to me he will always be dad…
Paul (Son).
Being the child of a Methodist minister is living a life of constant change in terms of having to relocate to different manses, in communities of varied social settings, every three or four years. For me this was not as overwhelming as I might have expected because, for some reason, I had the ability to adjust and make friends almost instantly. I can say that I inherited this quality directly from Dad who was able to interact with people from all walks of life. This ability has remained with me and has helped me in life to be able to appreciate and easily communicate with persons at all levels of society.
Some of my fondest memories of Dad are:
· Our fishing trips on a Saturday morning (EARLY). I am not sure that dad ever fished with us but he made sure that we had good guidance from Uncle Franklyn Smith or Uncle Rupert who showed us the ropes of fishing;
· The once a year road trip across the island and the crazy songs for entertainment like ‘One Man went To Mow’;
· His role as Santa Clause at the family Christmas tree and all the cryptic puzzles that went with the delivery of each gift delivery;
· His Sunday evening shoe cleaning ritual - Daddy would line out all the children’s shoes on a Sunday evening and wipe, polish and shine them for the new school week.
· His one dance move for any type of music which was a hop, skip and the throwing of a leg in all directions.
After Daryl was born, Daddy again put on his Dad hat. He was the first one to get to the side of the crib whenever he heard him crying. He would allow Daryl to jump all over him in his bed and would watch all the kids’ programmes over and over with him.
We love you, Dad. Rest well.
Michael (Son).
I remember my interactions with Dad morphing as I did, changing as I got older.
As a small child attending basic school, I remember him feeding me soft boiled eggs with runny yolks before heading off to school. As he drove me to school, I would always look forward to seeing the mounted policemen directing traffic on the way to Camp Road Basic School. I looked less forward to him listening to the news and morning talk on AM radio at top volume, which he seemed to enjoy. That said, I do now find myself listening to AM talk radio at top volume as well. So I guess it worked! His Parental Imprinting process was a success.
So many other moments and practices that Dad shared with me will remain imprinted in my mind, and my heart and my behavior. As a little one, I remember him comforting me whenever I was under the weather, with one of his perfectly ironed handkerchiefs wetted with Bay Rum. Now my daughter Savannah's brow gets lovingly mopped in the same way. Another Daddy-esque thing to do was to always have a stack of books lining his bedside. Now my bedroom bears an uncanny resemblance with a string of books always lining the foot of my own bed.
As an older child I remember long drives with Dad as we accompanied him to services in the country - with games of "Spot a Milepost" and the his compulsory need to "Toot the Horn Under a Bridge". Of course, now I can hardly drive under any standing structure without tooting, and I get super-excited whenever I see one the few remaining mileposts as I drive around the Jamaican countryside. Congrats, Dad: another Parental Imprinting success!
When I headed to college, leaving Jamaica, and headed back to the US each semester after breaks, it was always difficult. There were always tears. But somehow those moments were made a tad easier as Dad put his hand over my forehead to pray his Special Blessings over me - his las' pickney girl chile (a special adaptation since he would often refer to himself in the third person as "his madda's firs' pickney boy chile”).
Throughout the years, I remember coming into his room and seeing him down on his knees, saying his prayers by the side of his bed. I was coming into the room to retrieve my school shoes which he had lovingly cleaned with the wax polish that came in the flat metal tins. Daddy, you have embedded in us all a deep commitment to God and to prayer - even those of us who don't go to church every Sunday (cough, cough, not calling any names) do still regularly call on our Heavenly Father in prayer. Congrats, Dad: another Parental Imprinting success!
I will remember your laugh; your hosting the Methodist Synod at Home Dinners at 2B Braemar Avenue; your signature Christmas Tree Daddy Dance and your characteristic phone greeting: "[G]ood Evening - Bailey Residence". Nicely done, Dad. Your Parental Imprinting process was a success! I think we all now answer the phone in exactly same way!
Later I remember my interactions with Dad morphing as he did, changing as he got older.
While Alzheimer’s changed him in many ways, his spirit remained unchanged. I remember how even though he could no longer recognize names or faces, when we tried to offer him Sparkling Apple Juice in a champagne glass one New Year's Eve, he looked at us as if we had lost our minds! LOL! Surely we were not trying to offer the good reverend a drink. His spirit remained unchanged.
He could also recognize the spirit of love. Whenever Mom was abroad, his demeanor would be calm and relaxed, as it typically was. But whenever Mom returned, his face would light up and he would begin to "drop lyrics" (as we Jamaicans would say). He would wax poetic about how amazing she looked and what a wonderful gift she was to the family. Lyrics! Go deh, Daddy! Always sauve and debonair. His spirit remained unchanged.
Even though he could no longer recognize names or faces, for a long time he could still play hymns by ear on the piano. Hymns would always move his spirit and bring him to tears. His spirit remained unchanged. Of course, you can spot an Evans Bailey offspring anywhere - just play a hymn and then look for the tears. Congrats Dad: another Parental Imprinting success!
Dad, rest well. Your spirit lives on in our hearts and through our lives.
Jennifer (Daughter).
Our fondest memories of Grandpa are of us putting on talent shows for him, playing hide and seek in the dark, watching planes take off from the airport, and of his soft gentle voice, telling us to keep our feet off the couch.
We never had an adult relationship with Grandpa, but we treasured him and will treasure his memory.
He was the head of a big and beautiful family, and we are proud to be a part of his legacy.
Adrian and Kimberley (Grandchildren).
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