Eulogy for Stewart Wilfred Nivison Ransom,
St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, Palmerston North, March 26, 2004
On behalf of Stewart – demanding Stewart – the Stewart who demanded so much of himself and equally as much from others, I greet you.
Some time ago, Stewart, you asked me to speak at this, the celebration of your life. I was honoured.
Then you casually tossed out your request: speak openly and give a potted history of my life.
I shrank from such a task. How could anyone take 80-something years of exuberant living and render it down to 80-something seconds? We talked, you and I and a compromise was reached. I would place on record for you your contribution to human rights legislation. Others could do the rest.
Stewart, you were a man born before your time, in many ways the Alvin Toffler of New Zealand.
While Toffler worked away in the 1960s on his revolutionary ideas about human rights, sexual orientation and the changing roles of marriage and parenting, you were already chairing discussions on sexual orientation. Amazing that you could be so far ahead of prophet Toffler whose book Future Shock caused such a massive stir when it arrived here in about 1973. The ideas expressed in that book shook conservative New Zealand to the very core. What would conservative New Zealand have thought had the people fully realised another Toffler-like prophet was already in their midst and had been working away with his committee, for a decade, on the society’s problems of accepting varying sexual orientations? I shudder to think!
Your homosexual law reform committee, formed initially as the Dorian Society in 1963, succeeded in its aims with the Homosexual Law Reform Act, 1986.
What a jopy for me, Stewart ,to take you to the tenth birthday party of the Act in 1996, held in Parliament’s Great Hall. That night I realised fully the role you played leading up to that 1986 legislation. As you sat patriarchal in you wheelchair, men and women of all ages and from all walks of life paid homage. It was, indeed, thrilling to see those men and women making it a night for you to remember. Thankfully, you have archived those early years.
The Homosexual Law Reform Act, 1986, was, indeed, watershed legislation. But there was more to come with the Human Rights Act, 1993. As you worked for greater human rights for all, you emphasis fell on organisations, especially Workbridge and the Disabled Persons’ Assembly. You were to be honoured with life membership of both.
If, my friends, you turn to the cover of the order of service, there is a photograph of Stewart receiving the gift of a painting of Lake Tarawera marking his retirement from the Board of Management of Workbridge as the Disabled Persons’ Assembly representative.
The result of all this hectic activity? Today New Zealand has legislation to protect you, my friends, and I and every other person in every city, town, village and nook and cranny throughout the Dominion from discrimination because of race, gender, political affiliation, religious adherence, sexual orientation, disability and age. For the part he played in that gift to his country I think it would be appropriate if we gave Stewart a thunderous round of applause. (Pause)
On behalf of Stewart, I thank you for your acclamation.
In Classical mythology, another topic dear to Stewart’s heart, there is the wonderful tale of paying the ferryman. Now, as it is your turn, Stewart, to meet the ferryman to ferry you across the River Styx, I place on your casket a 1921 penny, the year of your birth, with which to pay the fare. I know that once across your good deeds will allow you to slip past the gigantic, three-headed dog, Cerberus, unmolested, to reach the White Rocks and your eventual arrival, after judgment, in Elysium. There, free from the restrictions your polio placed on you, you can romp and dance and prance and sing to your heart’s content in lush, green pasture.
Farewell brave man. Your absence from my life is weightier than I can ever express; your departure from the community an irreplaceable loss.