Eulogy to Patrick Manning delivered today by Brian Manning at Trinity Cathedral

A Life of Love
My father lived a life of love. From my youngest days he preached a life of love and service. A life that was not focused on the accumulation of wealth but one of meaning where the world was left a better place for no other reason than we had been blessed to be a part of it.
My Father was my Hero. When I was a child, my parents encouraged me to read as much as possible and our home was filled with books. I read them all, I even started to carry my books with me everywhere I went so that I could read during every spare moment. Eventually, carrying around all those books became cumbersome and I asked my father for one of his old Samsonite briefcases so I could properly courier my prized possessions. I thought I was cool. I wanted to be just like my hero…. just like my father. Over the years many have asked me why do I wear my watch with the face on the inside of my wrist. It’s because that’s the way my father wore his watch and growing up, I wanted to be just like him.
My Father was Wise. Before I left home for my undergraduate education my father gave me two things: a small clock and a Bible. I still have both to this day. He said these were all I would need to be successful in school and in life. I told him I would need some money. He said I needed a job. Over the years my father and I had many debates, possibly due to my American education I have grown up to be the only capitalist in a home of misguided comrades. We both did agree that money was not the most important reason to do anything but was a necessary tool to be used in achieving noble goals. It was a tool to be used and should never be allowed to use you. My father was a father to many; he touched many lives. I learned to accept that he wouldn’t always be available and that I had to share him with the rest of Trinidad and Tobago, the Caribbean region and beyond. But he always led by example and there were profound lessons to be learnt from his dedication and his life of service. For that, I am eternally grateful.
My Father was a man of character. For all of my life on this earth I have never heard a curse word pass my father’s lips, a benchmark for which I have already fallen hopelessly short.
In his 30s, my father gave up the consumption of alcohol and did not have a drop to drink since. He believed that hard work and discipline built good character. He always treated my mother with love and respect. That is the kind of man my father was. To many of my childhood friends, some with challenging home environments, he was a father to them too. He was a father to all those who needed one and he treated every child as his own. My father taught me many lessons.

My father was strong. My father was often criticized, both fairly and unfairly, but he often reminded me that no great accomplishment ever came without criticism. When I would complain of being unfairly criticized, he would recite a quote to me from the great Theodore Roosevelt: “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” Being unfairly criticized is a part of success. Embrace it.

My father was patient. Over the years, my father and I had many heated discussions about philosophy and public policy. One Parliamentary Bill he piloted particularly sparked my youthful outrage. During my years at secondary school, I took public transportation every day. We lived in Marabella then, in south Trinidad, and both my parents worked in Port-of-Spain. It was convenient and I enjoyed the sense of independence. During that period in the early 90s, the People’s National Movement piloted and passed a Noise Pollution Bill that summarily ended the greatest maxi taxi era in the history of Trinidad & Tobago. No longer could my friends and I listen to our favourite Chinese Laundry and Dr. Hyde remixes at ear splitting decibels. It was the end of the world as we knew it. The Bill brought immense relief to thousands of complaining commuters and those living in close proximity to maxi taxi routes, but my friends and I were crushed. “Parents just don’t understand”, we teenagers thought then. It wasn’t the first or last policy debate we had and my father was always willing to discuss the merits of what he believed to be right. After some of these long discussions, he would often say that he felt as if he had just passed the Bill for a second time. I will miss those discussions.
My father had a love for people. This love was reflected in many of his policies. Under his leadership, Trinidad & Tobago unveiled a host of policies designed to alleviate poverty; to provide increased access to education (particularly at the tertiary level) and homes to low income earners.
In my father’s memory, I make two simple requests 1) The re-establishment and expansion of the Divine Echoes Orchestra. Our young people need a creative outlet in which to channel their vast energies and potential as we all face uncertain and challenging economic times. My father understood that music had the power to not only change lives but to uplift spirits, to transcend race, ethnicity and class and to give a sense of hope to those who may have lost all hope, in essence, to save lives. He would be most pleased to have the Divine Echoes Orchestra revived so that we could give our youth an opportunity to live their best lives. Secondly, I would like, with the approval of the government of Trinidad and Tobago, to establish at the International Financial Center a fund designed to finance the construction of homes for low-income earners region wide, in recognition of my father’s spirit of generosity and support for our Caribbean neighbours. This fund will appropriately be called the Patrick Manning Development Fund and would be made accessible to every member of CARICOM and also, include our brothers and sisters in the Dominican Republic, Haiti and of course, Cuba.
During the last few years, my father and I spent a lot of time together; we would regularly speak at least twice a day. Because of this time spent together, I can honestly say that I come to you today, not with eyes filled with tears, but with a heart filled with joy and gratitude. My mother has lost the love of her life; her rock, her supporter, her protector and my brother and I have lost our hero and best friend.
My Father is Gone. He did not leave his family a huge inheritance, or many material things but something far greater. Far more precious. Far more valuable. He left us the legacy that can only come from a life well-lived; a life dedicated to the service of our fellow man. A life of love. I am honoured to call you my father. Thank you, Dad. I love you. One day we will sit and laugh together again.