Paul Underwood 10th October 1941 – 4th May 2010 A Celebration of His Life Friday 21st May 2010 Breakspear Crematorium 2.15 pm ‘La Vie En Rose’ Edith Piaf Words of Welcome Good afternoon everyone, and welcome. We have come together today, to remember with love and appreciation, the life of Paul Underwood, who has died at the early age of 68. I know that Julia, Sarah and Alexander feel an overwhelming sense of loss but they will draw great comfort from the presence of so many here today, it is much appreciated that you have come to join them in this farewell to Paul so thank you for coming. I am, indeed we are all, concerned with the death of any individual, for we are all members of one human community. Though some of the links are strong and some tenuous, each of us is joined to the others by connections of kinship, love or friendship, by living in the same neighbourhood or town or country or simply by our membership of the human family. As you may be aware this will be a non-religious, humanist ceremony and as a celebrant of the British Humanist Association I met Paul last year to discuss this ceremony today, much of the tribute is in his own words. So this ceremony will be a celebration of his life as he wished, and I consider it a privilege to be to be able to do this for him. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Humanist philosophy, it is an approach to life based on reason and our common humanity. Humanists think that we should try to live full and happy lives ourselves and as a part of this help to make it easier for other people to do the same. We believe in the power of human potential and follow the golden rule – “Do as you would be done by” and we believe that moral values are properly founded on human nature and experience alone, without need for recourse to religion. But I hope that we can acknowledge that, as humans, there are values we share with those of many diverse beliefs. So, here today, we welcome equally people of all faiths and those of none. Each of us develops a different set of beliefs about death, but when someone close dies we share the same feelings of sadness and loss, and we share the same need for reassurance and comfort. There will be time later in this ceremony to take a moment for contemplation, where you can remember Paul in your own way or in terms of your own faith. We shall hear a tribute; and there will also be some music and some poetry. It is natural that you should grieve today, because in a practical sense Paul is no longer a part of your lives and when someone we are close to dies, it feels as if our whole world is out of joint; we must learn to live our lives without the one we have loved. Some strength can be drawn perhaps from the knowledge that Paul packed a lot of living into his life and although he had been ill for some time, and had to deal with the discomfort and pain of his treatment treatment, and although he wanted to live and fought to do so, at the end he faced death with pragmatism and quiet courage, his comment was “I have had a nice life” and typically his thoughts were for those left behind rather than for himself. When someone dies untimely, it is our way to question, to demand answers to our inevitable questions. We cast about for explanations but there is no answer to the question why has this happened to him? To me? To us? For those of us who live without religion the answer is that there is no answer – we might as well ask why this branch rather than that one fell; why this rather than that flower failed to open fully, or why a particular leaf was whirled away at a particular time. We are subject, as is all life, to the randomness of nature. What comfort or consolation can be found then, in these circumstances? I do not claim for one moment to be able to find words to say which will ease away all the pain. I can only tell you that grief and love go hand in hand and that your grief is a measure of the love that surrounded Paul. Only the unloved are un-mourned. Grief in its many disguises, anger, numbness, bewilderment, sorrow, hopelessness must be allowed to run its course until, like a river, it empties itself into a calm sea of acceptance. So, in keeping with these thoughts about loss, and at Paul’s request we are here not just to mourn, but also to celebrate his life. It was of course a shortened life, but I would like to suggest to you that our habit of measuring the worth or quality of a life by its duration is a bad one. Time does not necessarily bring out what matters most in life; and, as Montaigne wrote “Wherever your life ends, there it is complete. The value of life lies not in its length, but in the use we make of it.” Paul liked all sorts of music and Julia wanted to sing today so we shall now sing ‘Morning Has Broken.’ The organist will play the whole of a verse before we begin so you can remind yourself of the tune, then the words are in your order of service so please sing up for Julia, vigorously! Music (Organist please) ‘Morning has Broken’ Tribute Paul was born on the 10th October 1941 in Dartford to his mother Helen and his father Harold. An only child, he had a happy childhood, he loved his parents and they loved him. It was of course wartime and Dartford was something of a target for the bombers so more than a few times they had to take refuge in the Anderson Shelter. There is a family story that the family dog heard the bombers coming once, picked baby Paul up and carried him to the shelter before the rest of the family realised there was a raid. Paul’s first school was The Maypole Primary School – the same school in fact as Mick Jagger and Sir Peter Blake, (he joked to me that he was the one who didn’t make it). He was a bright boy but a bit of a dreamer, so going on to Dartford Grammar School must have been a shock, particularly as it seems to have been rather a brutal place. Possibly because of this as he grew up, young Paul developed a bit of a rebellious streak; he told me he was frequently caned at the Grammar School, principally for making people laugh – schoolboys are incapable of laughing quietly so he was often caught! He ran away once apparently though he had forgotten to take any clothes with him so he went back home only to get caught by his father as he had stopped to cook himself a fried egg. Not having had a great time at school he left with no formal qualifications and this was something he regretted and he spent quite a time later in his life educating himself. At 18 he had to do National Service and he went into the Fleet Air Arm, onshore, where he learned to take planes to pieces and to put them back together again. Sarah speculated that this might be the origin of his very orderly approach to his belongings. On completing National Service, he spent a few years working as a solicitor’s clerk, then he read Jack Kerouac, met the folk singer ‘Rambling’ Jack Elliot, caught the wanderlust and discovered his true vocation as a beatnik. So off he went to France where he was discovered by French television as ‘Le Premier Beatnik Anglais.’ In the south of France where he ended up he earned a living from pavement drawing, busking with his guitar at café tables and waiting table at a beach restaurant. Those were halcyon days of youth and freedom when he discovered the joy of being alive and that you don’t need money to be happy. He also rediscovered the joy of drawing. His pavement drawings made the front page of the Sud-Oest paper and he enjoyed a decent living whilst sleeping under the pine trees by night and having fun by day. Over the years Paul has done a number of jobs, mostly as Sales manager or Sales Director of various firms, he commented that he had always been good at selling and running sales forces but in truth they meant little to him as he had always been a beatnik at heart, pursuing music and art and marvelling in the sheer magic of being alive. Julia told me that Paul was easily bored which is why he went from job to job but he was always good with people, empathising and understanding them; he was well respected by those he worked with and he made good friends wherever he went – many still call him Gov… Paul met Julia in 1971 and they married in 1972. In Paul’s own words “I was lucky enough on my 30th birthday, when I was feeling at my lowest, to have my life transformed by meeting my beloved Julia, or Jules as she is to me, a beautiful woman who was kind enough to become my soul-mate and my best friend. We have spent our lives together and she has kindly indulged me in my various madnesses and to stand by me throughout life’s many adventures. We always wanted children and were lucky enough to have two, Alexander and Sarah, who have enriched our lives beyond measure. I hope that they both live to enjoy life as much as Jules and I have done.” Paul loved both his children very much, he was always there for them and as much a friend as a father. He played in the garden with them, made crazy films with the camcorder while they dressed up or painted, it was fun. They had a holiday home in rural France and summer holidays were spent there, often with friends. When his grandsons Ben and Max came along he was thrilled and enthusiastically spent time with them as he had with Alexander and Sarah, he was very good with children and both he and they always enjoyed the time he spent with them. The two other loves of Paul’s life were always music and painting. He said that if he was forced to choose only one it would have to be music, simply because whilst he could envisage a life without looking at paintings the thought of a life without music was intolerable. He had played the violin as a small boy from the age of 6 to 16 but then gave it up except for a bit of busking in France. He took up the saxophone about 12 years ago. He had very wide and eclectic tastes in music from Jazz to Opera with everything in between. He loved the piano, Ben Webster, Charlie Parker, Ronnie Scott, Stevie Wonder or even Sarah told me, Britney Spears! The painting was also of course very important. In 1974 as a mature student, he had done a degree in art and was described by his tutor as a talented painter. He spent some time teaching fine art, life drawing and painting and more recently following his heart problems he and Julia went to live in France where he was able to have six glorious years painting every day while listening to music. He had a number of exhibitions including major ones in Paris and Nice, sold some paintings and got to meet some pretty wonderful people. Life was wonderful and the jazz as he said “rippled through his life” The dogs and more recently the cats were important in his life too – Fudge spent a lot of time on his lap in the last year or so. He loved food especially seafood, wine, and long lunches since he was very gregarious, sociable and funny and he liked to see people enjoying themselves. His taste in books was as wide as his taste in music he read the papers cover to cover, all part of his amassing of knowledge. He was incensed by injustice and was a champion for young people, never patronising and always interested. He was a big character and a sensitive and emotional man. To the end Paul was a man who loved life and lived it to the full. He loved people too and gave a lot over the years, he was always willing to help where he could. He was a great teller of anecdotes and stories, able to stand up and entertain for a whole hour is pretty impressive I’m sure you’ll agree. You’ll have to ask the members of the Reciprocal Golfing Society how good he was. His philosophy of life was to embrace it - make the most of it. “Whatever you are doing be there” and “Life is there for the taking” he’d say. He was a happy man though he could be frustrated by what he might have been. When he was first diagnosed with Mesothelioma two years ago Paul very pragmatically and courageously accepted what had happened and put his mind to fighting it with determination. He endured the treatment and found time to continue with his life, as well as he could. He was both brave and stoical, there was no self pity and a good deal of black humour. He had been doing remarkably well though his breathing was difficult. However as it became clear that the end was approaching, on Friday 30th he had to go into hospital. And he died peacefully the following Tuesday. Alistair Ritchie now has a few words for us. ➢ Alistair Ritchie’s contribution. The next poem is by Adrian Mitchell. It is called ‘Death is Smaller Than I Thought’. Death Is Smaller Than I Thought By Adrian Mitchell My Mother and Father died some years ago I loved them very much. When they died my love for them Did not vanish or fade away. It stayed just about the same, Only a sadder colour. And I can feel their love for me, Same as it ever was. Nowadays, in good times or bad, I sometimes ask my mother and father To walk beside me or to sit with me So we can talk together Or be silent. They always come to me. I talk to them and listen to them And think I hear them talk to me. It’s very simple – Nothing to do with spiritualism Or religion or mumbo jumbo. It is imaginary. It is real. It is love. We are now going to listen to Paul’s choice of music, ‘The Single Petal of a Rose’ by Ben Webster. As we listen and during the brief silence that will follow I would like you to select a memory of Paul as you knew him and would like to go on remembering him. Those of you who have a religious faith might like to use this time to say a silent prayer for him. Music ‘The Single Petal of A Rose’ Ben Webster Moment’s Silence. Committal Friends. We have now reached the moment where we shall take our leave of Paul and say our final farewells. If you feel able, please stand. Closing Words Paul asked for this poem by Joyce Grenfell. It will be read for us by Steve Hudson. If I should go before the rest of you Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone \nor when I am gone, speak in a Sunday voice, But be the usual selves that I have known. Weep if you must Parting is Hell But life goes on So sing as well!” Thank you Steve The best of all answers to death is the whole-hearted and continuing affirmation of life. So Julia and her family would like to invite you now to join them at Cuckoo Hill Drive for refreshments and to share more memories. Now, before our closing piece of music which is ‘Potato Head Blues’ by Louis Armstrong, Paul has the last word. “I have been very lucky and had a wonderful life. I have also met some pretty wonderful people who have been a joy and a privilege to know. After this ceremony, take a moment to talk to anybody else here and you will meet somebody quite fantastic. That has been my joy and my legacy. Make your friendship a present to somebody else here and you will be rewarded. And please take care of my darling Julia, Alexander and Sarah. They are quite fantastic people. May the ribbons of music and art run through your lives as they have run through mine and may you all find happiness.” Closing Music ‘Potato Head Blues’ Louis Armstrong Service conducted by: Ros Curtis Humanist Minister. 11 Beech Park, Walters Ash High Wycombe, Bucks HP14 4XL 01494 562984 / 07923450825 ros.curtis@virgin.net British Humanist Association 1 Gower Street London WC1E 6HD 02070793588 www.humanism.org.uk