Richard Bunbury Stories
Here are stories and tributes to Richard. The videos were shot at our home in about 2006, and many of the comments that follow are from his celebration of life. They came about when Elaine, Richard’s mother thought he and I would have a lot in common, and that I would enjoy his stories. It never was a right idea to ignore an Elaine suggestion.
Here are four stories Richard shared
- His father’s stories in the war
- Camaraderie at a private school
- From teaching to law
- Law school
Once you’ve started the video , to choose from the playlist, click on the the lines at the top of the viewer.
Thought I would write a few lines to say that you are all in our thoughts and hoping that Anne is coping with her loss and grief as well as can be expected at this awful time. It is horrible for her. We were thinking of you on Tuesday and know that it must have been a traumatic day.
When I told Guy about Richard, he said that he remembered him for giving him a book – “Reach for the Sky” by Douglas Bader. Guy is dyslexic and it was this book that encouraged him to read and indeed was the book that ignited his love of reading. I wish I had known that earlier as I would have liked Richard to have known and understood the significance of his gift to Guy. Please tell Anne this as I am sure she may gain a little comfort from this. It was a long time ago but Guy remembers it clearly.
We all send our love to you all and wish you peace in due course.
Gina
Before I start with the tributes to Richard I would just like to thank, on behalf of Richard’s Mother, my Aunt Elaine and his sister Rosalind ,who as you are aware, live in Victoria B.C. and are unable to be here today, a number of people who were there for Richard during his illness. To Anne , Richard’s wife of many years, Annie have stood by him and supported him throughout this difficult time, I do not think people really appreciate what you have had to endure these past years. To Anne’s family especially her sisters, Julie and Susan and her brother, Philip and their respective families as well as her Mother, Peggy, thank you for what you have done for him. To my Aunty Iris and Uncle Bill for their tireless efforts in helping get Richard to hospital for treatment and for their many visits to give him comfort and encouragement. To all the unsung heroes who have helped in so many ways and whom I have not named but you know who you are, THANK YOU for all you did for Richard.
Richard was born on the 24 April 1952 at the Mary Mount Nursing Home in Johannesburg, to Richard and Elaine Bunbury.
My early memories of Richard go back to when his family lived in Roosevelt Park ,my brother Dave and I came to Johannesburg for our annual holiday, and often stayed with my Uncle Richard and Aunt Elaine. One day Aunt gave both my brother and Richard a hiding, I am not sure for what reason but, trust me, the two of them together were bad news. My Aunt continued doing her household chores and, after an hour or so, she asked if I had seen Dave and Richard. I casually replied, “Oh they have left home”. With that we searched the house and the garden with no results. She put me in her car and we drove up and down the roads in Roosevelt Park, looking for them, with no luck. My Aunt extended the search until we reached the Westpark Cemetery. Guess what! We found the two of them, walking side by side, each with a suitcase. Aunty Elaine pulled over and said to them, “Where do you think you are going?” “Oh we are just running away from home” was the reply. I will leave it to your imagination as to what happened next.
As a small boy Richard had 2 imaginary friends he named, “Comcom” and “Later”. He would sit behind the chair in the lounge , cross legged with a pair of braces, an end in each hand, and would move the ends back and forth, while talking to his friends. Usually he told them about his day and what had gone on. Aunty Elaine’s sister, Aunt Hazel, expressed concern and suggested Richard be checked out, as she thought he had some sort of problem. This however was just the beginning of a life of a person with an extraordinary imagination and memory.
As most of you are aware Richard loved rugby, he started playing at Roosevelt High before moving to Pretoria, were he went on to play for Pretoria Boys’ High School, First team as hooker. This was a remarkable achievement considering his size. One thing he never lacked was guts and determination. If there was a scrap, Richard was sure to be in the middle of it.
Richard joined the South African Navy to do his military service as was required at the time. His late Father served on the General Botha which was based in Cape Town.
Richard went on to study at Wits where he met Anne, they were married in 1976, living in Johannesburg at the time. Richard had to beat a hasty retreat from South Africa when he failed to turn up for one of the 2 week camps we were required to attend, after completing Military training. He left virtually overnight for Vancouver, Canada, to join his two sisters. Anne followed him later.
Richard took up a teaching post in Vancouver at an all girls school. Guess what! He taught the girls to play rugby , actually it was more a form of touch rugby which they apparently enjoyed. True to style, Richard became the teachers union representative at the school. He gave the Headmistress , who was a battle axe, a hard time . He represented teachers who were called before the school council to be disciplined and fought their cases tooth and nail. I believe he did not lose one case and developed quite a name for himself. Needless to say he did not exactly make a friend of the Head. I think she must have rejoiced when he resigned to come back to live in South Africa.
When Richard returned to South Africa, he completed his Law Degree “Cum Laude” and was admitted to the Roll of the High Court of South Africa on the 21 August 2006 . This was a remarkable achievement at this late stage in his life but it had been a lifelong ambition. Anne gave him her full support during this period. Richard found it difficult, finding a position in a Law firm at his age, so he returned to teaching at the American International School near Fourways. He was still teaching at the school when he took ill.
I have often thought I would have loved to be a pupil in one of his classes . Richard had the ability to tell a story with so much passion and enthusiasm one could only but listen. I have never been in one of his classes but I can imagine he made the lessons interesting as I believe he would have had a very different style of teaching compared to most, one which the pupils would have appreciated.
Rich your presence amongst us will be missed but we take comfort, knowing you are at last free of pain and at peace.
My mind is flooded with memories and it is difficult to select just one or two to share with you. I will attempt to explain what he meant to me while keeping it brief. Richard was my friend, mentor, and was a wonderful uncle.
My uncle Richard was a great friend and I never wanted to miss out on spending time with him. When I heard that he and Anne were visiting Victoria in the summer of 2006, I decided to abandon my life in Vancouver so I could visit with them as much as possible. We had a wonderful summer; filled with a lot of laughter, arguments, and coffee runs to “Tim Hortons” (Richard called it “Tom Hintons” just to annoy the Canadians). One memory from that summer that comes to mind was our hikes up Mt. Finlayson. Because I couldn’t hike alone, I nagged Richard almost daily to hike with me. It is a tough 45 minute uphill climb which I am sure he had no desire to conquer… every day! I was able to convince him with the promise of an EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA large coffee on the way. I have no idea how he could possibly drink that much liquid and then climb a mountain… but that was Richard. We listened to his favourite rock tunes on the drive, chatted the whole way up and down the mountain, and listened to more rock tunes on the way home. While the music was blasting he would yell, “Yes, this is fun!”. I loved spending time with him.
I learned so much from my uncle, he was a brilliant teacher. I have met many of his past students over the years. Every time I mention that Mr.Bunbury is my uncle, they gasp as though I am speaking of a celebrity. He made a great impression on his students, I have been told that he inspired them to think critically, to be teachers themselves and even to enjoy rugby (particularly notable as he taught at an all girls school!) He was unique, who else would read out the World Cup Rugby scores to an assembly of elementary school girls?! When I was looking for a teaching job in Vancouver he coached me for interviews by phone and email. We would spend hours talking. I have pages of scribbled notes from these phone conversations; I didn’t want to miss a word he said. I aspire to be as influential as he was to his students.
Richard took care of us a lot growing up. He loved to scare us with his stories and make us laugh with his childhood “memories”. I say memories in quotation marks because we could never decipher what was true and what was a work of his extraordinary imagination. We finally came to the conclusion that a story was true up until he started to scratch his head… As soon as he leant back in his chair, lifted his arm and started scratching we knew that the story was heading in anew crazy direction. He was always so much fun.
I am sad that my son Liam and all his cousins won’t have the opportunity to know Richard as we all did. I will always miss him.
I go to bed, thinking of Richard, and through the long night, my thoughts are of him.
There was so much he still wanted to do – stories he had written, to be published and the Law to practice.
Ros and all my grandchildren as well as my eight great-grandchildren, are all here with me at this beautiful resort in the mountains, beside a lake, just north of Vancouver, the scenery reminding us all of Bowen Island where he and Anne lived when they first came to Canada. We have been sharing our memories of Richard and celebrating his life. Richard was a mentor and friend to all his nieces and nephews here in Canada they respected and loved him. I wish we could be together with all of the family so far away in S,Africa, during this difficult time.
My thoughts go back over the years to Richard (snr) and the extraordinary close bond there was, between Richard and his Dad, and the close ties that always existed between Richard, Liz and Ros. Richard was a terrible tease, when he was young, and gave his sisters a hard time but, as siblings, they grew up with a great affection and understanding of each other. We all felt the devastation when we lost Liz
The years with my brother, Eric and his two sons, Glenham and David, spending your school holidays with us in Roosevelt Park, Johannesburg and Glen’s memory of Richard and his imaginary friends, with whom he held daily conversations, brings to mind the extraordinary imagination he had from very young. He once managed to convince his little friend, when they were both about three years old, that he was eating an ice-cream. His friend cried for an ice-cream, insisting Richard was eating one. We found Richard, mouth wide open with his tongue out, licking an imaginar ice-cream cone and Kevin, screaming loudly, wanting “an ice-cream too !!”
I remember the War years when my sister-in-law (Glen and David’s Mum) visited my Mother every Sunday, while my brother and Richard (snr) were away fighting with the forces in North Africa and then both were captured at the Battle of Sidi Rezegh and were Prisoners of War for 3-1/2 years. This was before I met Richard(snr) who was a friend of my brother’s from before the War broke out in 1939 When the War ended we met and married. My brother and Richard (snr) , after a game of golf on a Saturday, would tell their War stories.
Richard (jnr) had heard these stories so often and knew them all so well, that he would remind his Dad of a detail of a particular incident, if he happened to omit it in his re- telling!
It is incredibly difficult to even attempt to write down my thoughts and feelings of Little Richard. On the one hand I’m in no way prepared, I never believed he was ill or that he would be stolen so abruptly. Whenever I spoke to him we managed to laugh and converse as if he had no illness. Even when I saw him on his days that were worse than others I felt his illness was no match for his cunning and wit, of which he had in abundance.
On the other hand, I remember the days he used to tutor me in English, and thus every sentence I write I hear his voice in my ear reminding me not to be trite, or clichéd. Which is difficult, because if ever the cliché of, “he touched everyone he met,” was ever true, it would be my uncle Richard. I hear him saying now, “Don’t say that Nick, that’s so cliché!” So to appease Richard, and to say something I’m sure would make him laugh and forgive me my use of a cliché I’ll say… He was quite short. I’m afraid I suffer the same vertical insufficiency as my uncle, so I don’t feel so bad mentioning it.
As I sit reflecting on the endless memories I have and shared with Uncle Richard I have trouble finding just one to express both how much he meant to me and what an impressive person he was; not because there isn’t an example but because there is such an extensive library of memories that I wish I could recite them all to truly convey my case. I use what limited knowledge of law talk I have because I feel that is truly the only way to write this, uncle Richard would approve of nothing less.
I shall then submit my first piece of evidence to the jury, to support my case that Uncle Richard is one of the best. I shall define one of the best as being one of the best in every aspect of being human. I shall define being human as having the ability to be: humourus, thoughtful, carrying, stubborn, political, crass, selfless, selfish, brilliant, stoic, and of course full of hot air. I believe I was about 13 when I first visited South Africa. My relationship with Uncle Richard in Canada had been very close, he always treated me as an equal, always conversed with me as if I had something important to say, which I assure you was not the case back then and is rarely the case now. As a result I was most likely a little less than respectful in my tone and language when talking to Richard than I should have been. So after he had moved back to South Africa and we came to visit he told me I must call him uncle Richard, not little Richard, as I had become accustomed to. As I reflect on this memory I have a few thoughts as to why he said this, but the one that stands out more than any other is that he knew I’d get a kick out of him telling me to call him uncle, it was a joke to him and he was doing it for my amusement. Throughout the whole trip we went back and forth about “uncle” and “little” and which was his proper title. Of course at the time I thought he’d be embarrassed around his cousins that some little twerp was calling him “little”, but knowing Richard as well as I do now I know for sure he conjured up the whole thing for my amusement, an argument, which Richard loved more than anything, that we could engage in throughout my entire stay.
I have written this piece, or some form of it more than a few times now over the past week and have never been satisfied. That is to say I don’t feel as though I’ve been able to truly express myself. However, I have realized that I could write books upon books about uncle Richard and still never feel that I completely expressed what he meant to me, there is simply not enough words to truly define the impact he had on my life. I love you uncle Richard. I fear I never said it enough and hope you know how much you meant to me.