My friend Bud Lee — distinguished and regionally honoured surgeon, fine sportsman, one of the outstanding Guyanese of his generation — played a large part in my life at one time. When he died last week I was saddened and thought of how greatly such friends matter in one’s life. He was memorable to me.
I cannot remember when I met Bud Lee, how long it was after I arrived in then British Guyana 65 years ago. I remember being told that he could have played cricket for Guyana as a hard-hitting batsman but that he pursued his profession as a priority. When I got to know him on the squash court I could see that — his quickness of eye and movement — a Roy Fredericks before Roy came on the scene. Also when I got to know Bud his reputation as a leading surgeon was established. Steadiness of hand and mind, sureness of touch, concentration on the vital matter at hand — I could see those attributes also.
Bud was in my life especially because there was a long time when we both played squash at the Georgetown Club. We played regularly and I immensely enjoyed our games in friendly rivalry since we were closely matched. He became a very fine player and represented Guyana with distinction — as he did at badminton.
He had sharp reflexes, moved with easy and adaptable quickness, concentrated hard and had a strong determination to win — all signs of a very fine sportsman, one of Guyana’s best in his era. And there was perhaps one unusual trait which I like to recall — he had no patience with pain as an excuse for not playing. “Bear your chafe, Ian, bear your chafe”, he would say if I made the mistake of complaining about some discomfort or even some actual injury. He played through such things himself quite happily.
But it was the fellowship of the Club and the conversations and exchanges after the games which mattered most. I remember those involved over the years — Bud, Madhu Wellingkar, Mike Watkinson, Walter Chin, Joe Mekdeci, Billy Fung-A-Fat, Denis Dias, Ian McDavid, Louis Narain, Henry Jeffrey, I’m sure I don’t recall them all in this moment, and always the younger generation coming on. That was a good part of life. Strong friendships long maintained and always remembered, always are.
Bud Lee was a good part of that fellowship. Again I see him now — good friend on and off court, down-to-earth and to-the-point in his advice, memorable in his life and sportsmanship and career, a great Guyanese.
My wife Mary and I offer our sincere condolences to Marlene and to Bud’s daughter Diane and his sons, Richard, Bruce and Rajiv. Bud was a very fine man to have as a friend.
As I have grown old a recurring sadness is the death of old friends and colleagues who enhanced, improved, sometimes inspired, always benefited my life. Such loss is inevitable. It becomes commonplace. The frequency tends to harden the heart. And in any case stoic acceptance of what is obviously intended by Nature or God makes good sense. And yet one cannot help feeling deep sorrow when the loss occurs. I wrote a poem about this once.
TEARS
It’s no good sobbing for the dead. They’re gone,
they’ll never be back. Do not expect that a visit
in your dreams will be the same thing as sweet life,
memories of love and laughter real again.
They won’t return, they’ve left on their endless journey.
So let no tears fall from the stone heart, better
so much better that grief be defeated.
Yet sometimes when the moon rises and the last
birds wing for home, I suddenly remember
and sob for those I loved and are gone.
