My father, Charles Walton Devere Brown Sr, was born on July 18, 1932, the oldest of five children of the late Walton St George and Pearl Brown.

He is survived by his three sisters Dorothea Butterfield, Lovette Brangman and Beverly Jones and is pre-deceased by his brother George.

Dad grew up in Pembroke parish, receiving his formal education at the Central Primary School. Higher education was a privilege then and not the right that his generation would eventually win for his children and grandchildren.

Denied this privilege, my father would pursue his education informally through his voracious reading which he sustained throughout life.

Entering the workforce at an early age, Brownie, as he was known by all his friends, would soon develop knowledge and skills as a bartender working for his Uncle D.A. (Ewart Brown Sr.)

This young Mr. Brown was a natural charmer and had his eyes set on other pursuits while plying his trade.

It was during these early years that dad would meet his life long companion, Barbara Lucille Ming.

As far as his children are concerned, that was when his life really began. Brownie would woo and court Barbara and within two short years they were joined at the altar, on Christmas Eve 1955.

Their union would span some four decades and they would become proud parents of five children - Deanna, DeVerne, Walton, Charles and George.

My father was dedicated to helping his children receive the fine education he was denied as a youngster.

There were many nights in our first home in Pembroke Park when dad would patiently help us with math and other seemingly insurmountable subjects.

He wanted us all to excel and his efforts, if not his words, were meant to guide us in that direction. It brought him great joy to see each of our accomplishments.

As a working class family growing up in Bermuda during that pivotal decade - the 1960s - my father wanted us to understand what changes were being made and why, young as we all were.

And that is why my brother Charles and I marched alongside the men and women in 1965, during the BELCO campaign, as they sought quite simply and rightly to have their right to join a union recognised by employers.

We had a political awakening at an early age.

Through out the 1960s and 1970s while we sat around the dinner table as a family we not only consumed the meal prepared by my mother; we also received lessons in life.

At these gatherings we would get through osmosis - and a great deal of heated exchange - a passion for what is right and just; we would learn about the struggle for social change; and we learned that politics should always be about the principles you uphold when you have power. For this father, I thank you.

Brownie's career was largely in the hospitality industry, that once rock-bed of the Bermudian economy. He worked as a bartender at the Bermudiana Hotel and when that was destroyed by fire he went on to the Castle Harbour hotel.

He had a ten year break from hospitality when he was employed by the Bermuda General Agency but he returned to the sector by working for 17 years at the Penthouse. Not to be confused with any other associations one may make, this Penthouse, the Penthouse Restaurant was among the best there was in Bermuda.

And Brownie was an excellent ambassador for tourism in his position there.

We - his wife and children - were all treated there once a year and dad was always the proud father, ensuring everyone there knew his family was present.

All of his children derived an additional benefit from his work as a bartender insofar as we felt equally entitled to is tips as he did. There were many mornings when, just prior to going off to school, we would ask Dad in a purely perfunctory manner if he had any change.

As long as he murmured something we would take that as an invitation to help ourselves. In retrospect, it was clear that he always knew what we were doing, but as was typical of his approach to his children, he never denied us anything he was able to give us.

That did not change when we entered adulthood.

When the Penthouse Restaurant closed my father went to work at Glencoe and then finally to Ariel Sands. While his jobs changed his dedication to quality service did not.

Many who know Brownie always know that he actually had two families. The second family, of course, is The Leopard's Club. Brownie was a dedicated member of this great social institution and he devoted a great deal of his time to ensuring its continued strength and longevity.

When Dad was not at work and not at home we always knew where he would be. He divided his time carefully: I can recall the numerous Sunday mornings when he would set the pot of codfish and potatoes on the stove head, off to "The Club" for stocktaking but almost always get back in time for the family Sunday breakfast. We grew up with The Leopard's Club, indirectly, as part of our family and we knew how much his membership meant to him.

It was only late last year that Brownie postponed his operation to ensure he could attend the Club's Anniversary Week activities; during this week he received a certificate for long and dedicated service. My mother, his children and in-laws and eldest grandchild were all there for this very proud moment for my father.

One of the greatest joys for Brownie was to spoil his grandchildren. They brought a constant smile to his face and a youthful effervescence.

He would do virtually anything for them, whenever asked. There were many times when Deanna or DeVerne or myself was not able to pick up one of our children from school. Dad would do it, always, and without hesitation. "Papa, let's go for a swim" So let it be done. If grandma was the firm grandparent, papa was the malleable soul who doted on his grandchildren.

Our father was fastidious about his dress; indeed he took great time to ensure his overall appearance was nothing less than impeccable.

His shoes had a shine we thought only regiment recruits were capable of achieving; his tie was perfectly shaped and pants never failed to have a razor-sharp crease. The coup de grace would come with a liberal splashing of his favourite cologne.

We all had a gentle chuckle when Dad went off to Boston earlier this year and was properly attired in nothing less than a pin-stripped three piece suit. His sense of pride in how he presented himself was also reflected in the time he spent keeping his car absolutely spotless. Unfortunately, this is not one of his habits I was able to picked up.

Brownie was at heart an old school romantic, refreshingly out of date and perennial charmer. He still greeted ladies with a "hello my dear", a slight not of the head, and a twinkle in his eye.

In his quiet moments he used to listen to a great deal of jazz, providing his children with an early introduction to the cool sounds of Jimmy Smith and Wes Montgomery.

His fascination with sports revolved around baseball early on and later, more intensely, cricket, both local and international. Regrettably, he remained a Somerset Cricket Club fan in what was clearly a divided household on this issue and he remained loyal to the West Indies Cricket Team. He had a collection of sports reference material with an abundance of data that he would readily delve into to settle any issue that arose during one of his many conversations about sports with his children and their spouses.

Father exemplified that genre of men who say little but show a lot through their actions.

His marriage of some forty-five years to our mother was not without its blemishes but it was those blemishes that actually strengthened their union. Their friends and relatives shared the joy of their marriage every forty years at their legendary Christmas Eve wedding anniversary parties.

My mother stood by his side, as an equal, and together they built a home full of love, passion and loyalty.

Through father, we learned the importance of family, a social conscience and the importance of mutual support. As Brownie, my father, closed his eyes for one final, eternal sleep he did so with a contented heart.

He passed to eternity with the unqualified love of his wife and children and the adoration of his grandchildren; he left his legacy in us and for that his memory will live on for future generations.