Date of Birth: 04 / 01 / 1920

Date of Passing: 09 / 09 / 1998

Location : Lincolnshire, United Kingdom

Relationship: Father

Epitaph:

As a keen sportsman, this was always one of Dad's favourite little verses, it seems right to put it here:

When the Great Scorer comes to mark against your name,
It matters not how you won or lost;
but how you played the game.

Tribute:

George Ray

George A S Ray (GAS to his friends) was born in Camberwell, Surrey in January 1920 to parents Stanley (Syd) and Mary. The eldest of five, it was a sometimes difficult childhood in a time when many lived in terrible poverty, especially in and around the city of London, indeed in all the big cities.
George took his role of elder brother very seriously, especially when he lost his mother Mary at the tragically young age of 32. Barely a teenager himself, it fell upon him to help with the care of the younger ones and bring in extra money to put food on the table. George was my Dad, and I am very proud to be his daughter.
It is sadly only once your parents pass away that you realise how little you know of who they really are, where they came from – unless you’re very lucky. I remember snippets really, all sorts of stories he told us about working on the, now famous, markets as a barrow boy in London, leaving school at 11 years old. Can you imagine?
But, instead of slipping into mischief, crime or worse as many did in hard times, Dad was determined to better himself – and be a positive role model for his brothers and sister – and I think I can honestly say he was.
He, somehow, managed to join the RAF at quite a young age and there trained to be a military chauffeur, transporting the important ‘big wigs’ around and about. From here he studied aircraft mechanics/engineering and finally became a member of the ground crews who kept the planes flying during the Second World War. It was his career in the RAF that gradually brought him up country, spending time at Elvington, nr. York, and then in Lincolnshire where, after his first marriage ended in divorce, he met and married my Mum, Sybil in 1952.
Dad had one very lucky escape in his life in the 1940’s. On the old planes, a member of the ground crew had to ‘spin’ the propeller just before the pilot fired up the engine. On this one particular occasion, the pilot was a bit too eager and fired up the engine just as my Dad’s fingers were spinning it around! You get the picture I am sure. All his fingers on his right hand were severed and he spent weeks in an RAF hospital recovering. Skilled military surgeons who had honed their craft on hundreds of injured war veterans battled to save Dad’s fingers and rebuild his hand and maintain some movement with it. And miraculously, they did, though he could never, ever straighten them completely; his right hand was always slightly closed. Showing typical determination though, George was just grateful to have his hand and still be able to do everything he loved, including playing rugby and sport, which was his passion.
Fast forward to the late 50’s and Dad had settled in Lincolnshire, married Mum, and was father to my older brother, me, and youngest brother, though he never lost contact with his son from his first marriage. He’d found good, honest employment with Blue Circle Cement where he became a lorry driver. Again though, determined to progress, he gradually worked his way up the ladder until finally he reached the status of Personnel Officer, which was a big deal back then. Again, the welfare of others was always top of George’s mind and it was a natural job for him. I think over the years he did this job he was very well respected by the men and the management at Blue Circle.
Like my Mum Sybil, Dad loved his family and friends dearly, making every effort to ‘get down south’ to see his brothers and sisters there. And he loved his sport especially.
Involved from virtually the beginning with Scunthorpe Heslam Park Rugby Club, serving for a time in many roles, including Chairman, this was Dad’s second home. He played rugby himself and over the years, nurtured many a skilled young colt too
My Dad had an amazing life – lived absolutely to the full. He had a temper now and again – who doesn’t? But overall he was a wonderful, caring, kind and absolutely honest gentleman. He could NOT lie, cheat, be cruel or be dishonest. It wasn’t in his nature. He once took my friend and I to a school ball, and my friend, all dolled up in her long dress, couldn’t get over how he opened the car door for her and helped her out of the car! One of my other resounding memories of him is how he insisted on walking on the road side of the path – thereby protecting the lady he was escorting from any traffic dust and splashes and such like – how delightful is that?? And Old Spice – it was always his favourite aftershave and to this day I can’t smell it without wanting to cry. Dad was chivalrous to the last, always opened doors for ladies, helped them out of cars and treated them with the utmost respect. But put him on the rugby pitch and he’d mow you down like a maniac to score that try!
I think George gave lots of people happy memories, as Welfare/Personnel Officer with Blue Circle, back then companies cared for families as well as staff and he organized many a pantomime trip to the theatre for employees, their wives and children. We saw many big stars just starting out on their careers. Somehow that panto trip, the party afterwards held in the Blue Circle Social Club at Perrys, and the little bag of fruit, nuts and toy every youngster was presented with by ‘Santa’ (one of the press-ganged dad’s who had the tummy to support the costume!) was always the BEST part of Christmas! Magical. Dad ran the Social Club, pulling in acts that are now household names – including Paul Daniels! He also ran a bingo night (Mum’s favourite), which was popular all over the county. We were very lucky as youngsters growing up in a small works village, we had the Club, with its tennis courts and bowling green. Caring adults that didn’t see you as a nuisance, AND, we had ‘Big Film Friday Night’, when Dad and the Club Manager rented a projector and screen and hired in films for the youngsters to come along and watch – our own little cinema. Typical kids we used to love the scary ones – Pit and the Pendulum, Quatermass – brilliant! Though not gory and horrible like films often are now.
Again, I didn’t realise until I was older just how much Dad (and willing helpers) did to keep us all happy and entertained. With the arrogance of youth, I don’t think I once said: Thank You, and that makes me feel ashamed.
My Dad died suddenly, tragically, on September 9th 1998. He had a massive stroke. I was at his bedside when he died and for that I am grateful – just me and Mum. My Brothers, and families (mine too) had headed off to rest, thinking it was going to be a long haul; my younger brother was coming back to collect us once he’d safely delivered his brood. It wasn’t a long haul though. As midnight came and went, and the hospital quietened and Mum and me talked quietly, he just faded away – which is how he would have wanted it. A fiercely proud, independent, and private, man, he couldn’t have borne the idea of nurses tending to his intimate needs for any length of time.
At his funeral, the Church was full, full of people paying their respects. Even people stood around the church that couldn’t sit down; the congregation numbered in their hundreds. A true testimony to a good life well lived, and lived to the full. Later at the grave, you couldn’t see it for the flowers, they spilled over everywhere, a sea of colour. However sad it was that day, I’ll always treasure that memory, and be proud to call myself the daughter of George Ray. God bless Dad.