My Father’s Eulogy

Frederick Harriott: “A Man Who Chose the Best”

FAMILY | STRENGTH | FAITH

1939 – 2021

The Times…

Frederick Harriott did not choose the era in which he was born …  In 1939, Europe was on the brink of a global war.  The world was just rousing itself from a decade of depression, drought, unemployment and despair…  When life looked the bleakest, God chose to bring a baby boy named Frederick Harriott (no middle name) to Spanish Town St Catherine, Jamaica West Indies on December 7, 1939. 

FAMILY

He did not choose this, yet he grew up in a complicated family life.  By talking to my dad and others I discovered that his father’s name was Samuel Harriott and his mother’s Annetta Cardice.  He explained to me one day (when his belly was full, and we got to talking) that he had three sets of family.  The set that he was a part of has six siblings that are alive and four that are not.  Their names are as follows: Geraldine, Adossa, Dorris, Edith, Dutchie and Kenneth.  Deceased are Linda, Mavis, Vincent, and another sibling also named Fredrick.  This is what I know to the best of my limited knowledge.

He grew up mostly with his grandmother and I think with an aunt.  I have a feeling that it would take a more in-depth investigation to unwind and unravel the historical twist, turns and knots of his life…  In contrast to my mother’s side of the family-the Ellis’, I only knew (and met) my aunt “Ms. G” (up until recently realized that the “G” stood for Geraldine) and her children as well.  We (speaking on behalf of myself and my sisters) certainly hope to experience and be acquainted more fully with the Harriott-side of our family lineage.

Fast forward past his childhood, he chose to live an uncomplicated family life.  He married one woman (the love of his life) Eudora Louise Ellis.  He told me that he used to call out to her many times when he saw her walking home from work but she didn’t pay him any mind.  (For anyone who wishes to dispute that fact, well it came directly from the source himself…)

They had three children together and five in total. He moved to Toronto Canada in 1971 and his family immigrated shortly after.  We lived an uncomplicated family life.  There was one dad, one mom and us kids.  Family life was very simple, there was one dogma (supreme rule): “It’s my house and my rules.”   That was engrained in all of us, that there were house rules that needed to be and were followed. 

I remember being away at University my first year and my buddy and I were on Young Street in Toronto playing video games in an arcade and it was about quarter to twelve in the night and suddenly a fear seized me and I turned to him in somewhat of a panic and said, “It’s 11:45, it’s 11:45…” 

He said, “Yeah???”

Then I thought…

“Wait a second…I’m not living at my parent’s house; I can go home anytime I want.”

[I guess that shows just how deeply these family values were ingrained in my own mind and life…]

Moving along, it’s interesting how he chose to embrace technology in his family life.  Being “online” was no more seen as a place where my mom hung up clothes in the backyard. 

My siblings and I finally persuaded my dad to get internet well after Zoom became a thing and church services went online during the height of this pandemic.  Dad loved to fiddle around with technology.  For one thing, it was a common occurrence to receive an accidental phone call by dad in the middle of the night…or while at work.  Whenever we called him back and ask, “Dad why did you call?” 

He would say, “No, I didn’t call you.” 

And we would say, “Yes you did!”

And he would be say, “No I didn’t…” 

You get the picture.

Continuing, my daughter Timaya relayed the following:

“Someone kept on texting me, and I asked my friends, ‘Did you give out my number?’  Then I realized it was Grandad but trying to figure out what he was saying was like trying to decipher codes.” 

After getting internet and a tablet, he discovered…YouTube…and that was a brand-new world.  It was reported by my sources that he was on this platform all the time and even brought his device to the supper table!  If that was a thing back then, I couldn’t even imagine doing this as a kid growing up.

He watched African movies, preaching, boxing, and was so excited when he found Nugent Street church service online.  His tastes were eclectic.  One time he was watching some lady in the rainforest and there wasn’t -I quote- “a stich of English” in it! 

I think almost everyone in the family had an experience with my dad and his new connection to technology. 

He chose Family as the most important thing.  My dad worked hard every day as a bricklayer; he was home every evening.  There was no hanging out with buddies, no being absent…

When I reflect on the idea of family, my Dad’s life has shown me that one could still be a good  and dependable father despite not having a patternable example, or the engagement of a father figure.  

STRENGTH

Frederick Harriott chose strength.  Our dad was a strong man, he was tough -which only made the time of his passing sudden, surreal and tragic.  However, his strength was not one entirely based on toughness.  But yes, he was a tough man.  

He could disciple with a look, and that was enough to draw tears to my eyes.  I think as the youngest I got the fewest licks, but I didn’t need corporal punishment when he had that “look” in his arsenal….  As a matter of fact, every kid in church (Erie Street Gospel Center – now Abundant Life Gospel Centre -under the leaderships of the late Bishop Raymond, Bishop Johnson, and the late Bishop Newton Cole) – every kid knew that you better behave, “Brother Harriott” (my dad) was there…sitting in the front bench…his body turned sideways, with his arm over the long pew… 

Who can forget “the look”?  It was a “look” that he would give to anyone who attempted to walk down the aisle or talked during the service.  (By the way, that look was not just reserved for children -one could experience it regardless of status.  I have it on good authority that a couple of high-ranking officials received the look as well…)

I remember driving home from church with my family one Sunday and two young guys in a pickup truck cut us off on the road -I guess they were having some fun.  When we stopped at the next lights beside those scamps, my dad gave them one searing look…not a word, mind you…  All I remember was a string of apologies that looped for the entire time the light remained red…

“I’m sorry Sir… I’m sorry Sir…I’m sorry Sir…” 

(I don’t know what they thought he would have done…)

Physically as a brick layer, my dad’s hands could probably cut with a touch.  He had callouses on his callouses, and his toenails were registered as lethal weapons, stronger than vibranium.  He was hardened by the summer sun and burned by the winter wind.  (That’s what happens when your “office” is in the great outdoors…) 

I always recount this anecdote told by his grandson Christopher that bears an ark of truth…  He understood from quite a young age that, “My mom’s hand is like paper, my dad’s hand is like wood, but grandpa’s hands are like concrete…”  (I suppose that being well behave was the gist of the warning!)

My Dad was tough.  (They don’t make them like that anymore.)  One time he was fixing something under his pickup truck at work, and someone didn’t realize he was there and moved the vehicle, and it stopped on top of his knee. He yelled out, (but the person thought that he was singing) and then the vehicle went over his knee… that old steel Chevy pickup truck. 

For any lessor human that would have been a crushing, debilitating sentence but for my dad, it was something that just happened, he merely got over it.  I believe he went to the hospital, experienced some discomfort and eventually had some medical treatment… But that was it…he got over it, it was barely an inconvenience in the larger context of existence. 

That toughness seems to go hand in hand with a strictness that carried over into family life. I certainly didn’t appreciate it when I was young but discovering about the uncertainty and instability of his family upbringing, I can understand his (over) protectiveness.

At the same time, this toughness was paired with an incredibly engaging and friendly personality where he would speak to complete strangers like old friends.  I can’t tell how many times he would break out into conversations with someone, and my sisters and I would ask ourselves or our mother, “Who is dad taking to?”  Invariably the response was a shrug and…“I don’t know…”

That personality gave him the confidence (much to our embarrassment) to stroll and sing in public places like he was on “America’s Got Talent”.   We would be there shopping for groceries at  Knob Hill Farms, and he would be singing along out loud with the music coming over the speaker, or some church song.  We would hide with our hands over our faces while looking the other way.

His strength also lay in provision for his family, and a laser focused, strong work ethic that all of his children have absorbed in our lives.  I was conscripted (I mean invited) to work with him in the summers when I turned 13 years old.  I remember the two pieces of advice he gave to me when it came to construction work -and it still lingers in my psyche even up until today:

“Don’t walk around with your hands in your pockets and bring your tools.”   

(Being industrious and being prepared seemed to be the message.)

Furthermore, provision also means looking ahead to the life you want.  One of the most far-reaching significant event was emigrating his family from Jamaica to Canada in 1974.  He didn’t blink to leave all he knew behind to secure a stable and positive future for us children. 

But his strength lay in more than being tough.  He had an unswayed will, a strong moral compass and lived a “follow through” life. 

FAITH

Frederick Harriott chose faith.  My Dad loved to preach, he loved to read the Bible and he loved to go through commentaries.  His strength lay in his spiritual life. He was a man of God and the priest in our home.  I don’t remember clearly, but my sister did say that every Tuesday evening he had family devotions and my oldest two siblings would have to read scriptures and exhort.  Our family life was intertwined with faith and ministry.

As children, he forced us to go to church. Personally, I didn’t know that television programs aired on Sunday mornings -that was a time we went to church, nothing else existed.  He turned on the stereo and blasted the old gospel songs Sunday mornings.  My mom made breakfast.  My dad called me to comb my hair -that was unpleasant.  And everybody, everybody better be ready to leave when he was in the car in the driveway!

But you know, he didn’t force us to be Christians, but he nurtured an environment where we could meet God and then make our own choices.  He always told me that he prayed that I would excel much more in ministry that he did with the opportunities and supports that he didn’t have. 

When I reflect on his life, I think of the poem “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

Poets often disagree about the popular individualism associated with this poem, but nevertheless in the simplest most uncomplicated reading it speaks personally to me when I think about my dad and his choices.

Frederick Harriot chose Family, Strength and Faith.

Upon reflection perhaps the point isn’t so much about the choosing, but that our choices are underscored by the sovereignty of God. With this in mind, I conclude with this fitting epilogue..

⁷ I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. ⁸ Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.

2 Timothy 4:7-8 (NIV)

Frederick Harriott had a heart for God, a love for family, a tenacious will and a fond allegiance to the island of his birth.

He is survived by his wife Eudora, children Pauline, Andrew, (the late) Yvonne, June and Israel, grandchildren, great grandchildren, many sisters, brothers and extended family, brethren and friends.

It will be hard to forget someone who has given us so much to remember.

We love you dad, rest in peace.

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Frederick Harriott | 1939 – 2021

Funeral link…