Reflections on the Life of Henry Rival Archer, HBM

The English language has many words to describe this man who was so gifted, so giving, and so kind; but not enough. Dad, Henry Rival Archer, HBM was born on March 3, 1918 and died on April 19, 2019. He was 101 years old. I have always felt a special bond to my Father because we had birthdays close together. He, March 3, his birthdate said his mother, (or March 5, assigned to him at registration).  Me, March 1. So, every year when I celebrated my birthday, my heart turned to his. But there are other important characteristics than a mere birthdate cannot fairly express so, I have chosen four words to describe my Dad.


Dad (1918-2019)

Industry – He was the hardest-working man I knew. No job was too hard. Although never receiving a formal high school education, he mastered skills of accounting and business management under the guidance of his mentor, Mr. RJD Nias. He came home every afternoon after working as a grocery store manager, put on his work clothes and headed out to the garden – a place he loved, and diligently did his gardening until late into the darkness. He continued this habit until past his 100^th birthday when his strength finally failed him. Well into his 90’s he won a gardening competition organized by the Tobago House of Assembly and copped the first place monetary prize. He rose to become the general manager of a chain of supermarkets owned by the community - the Tobago Cooperative Society, Ltd. In 1970, due to his public service, he was honored by the government of Trinidad and Tobago and awarded the Humming Bird Medal, Silver, for Cooperative Development.

Honesty – He was honest to a fault. As a child he taught me how to do the church treasurer's duties - posting the tithes and offerings for each giver and making sure the postings matched the monies received; and I would observe him as he did the accounts for the Carnbee Cooperative supermarket, of which he was the manager. He would spend hours, sometimes days, going over the accounts to ensure the credit and debit sides of the ledger, the expenses and liabilities vs the income, to ensure that when the books were audited every penny was accounted for.  On occasion after posting the church funds, the postings did not balance with the money received. As hours passed by, unable to find the error he would take 10 cents or 25 cents, or whatever was needed, out of his pocket and added it to the account to make sure it was balanced. He taught me honesty.

Frugality – Not stinginess; not miserly; he was a giver who found a way to donate thousands of dollars to help scores of young people attending primary, secondary school or college. Many young people – relatives and strangers – spent months, sometimes years in our home because he, along with my Mom, wanted to provide them with an opportunity in life. He used his money wisely and pooled his resources to be used in the best way possible. Nothing was wasted.

• He collected scrap metal and wood he used in building and repairing.
• He would save his daily government stipend from his weekly trips on government business because he considered it additional income he could live without.
• For years, he accumulated property, paying month by month until paid off and gave everyone of his 9 children and two of his grandsons a plot of land.

Spirituality - He believed in God and what God could do for him. His parting words to us would always be, “Boy (Girl), stay close to the Lord!”  He believed in prayer, praying unceasingly for us his children and grandchildren. And of course, is there a person in Tobago who would not have heard the message he received in a dream. “Henry go tell everyone, ‘Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it Holy!’” He missed no opportunity: maybe at a funeral or a wedding or on the inter-island ferry heading to Port of Spain, Trinidad. And before you brush off his dreams, vision, or intuition, let me share a personal story. After leaving the island shores to continue my education in the United States, my wife and I vowed that we were going to make it on our own, that Daddy had given enough. One day, with only about 50 cents in our possession and wondering where we were going to get the next meal and the baby diapers for our baby, we received a call. “Boy, I was thinking of you all, and I sent you something.” But the next day an envelope arrived in the mail with a generous gift to see us through until I could receive some money as a student worker at Andrews University. This was the age of snail mail. Long before I was in need, he mailed a check.

Mom (1922-2017)

And he believed in family. Though several of his children and grandchildren migrated to the United States, he did not miss the graduations or weddings of his children or grandchildren, until too feeble to travel.



And his optimism. He never thought he could fail at anything he did! He was a mighty man, a giant of a man – all 5ft. 5in. of him. How well we remember him singing one of his favorite ditties, “Things are getting better!” And hearing him repeat his favorite Bible verse from Isaiah 54:17: “No weapon that is formed against thee (me) shall prosper...” There was something about Dad that made you confident about life and that if you suffered any unfortunate situations or difficult times occurred, he was there to give you a hand; and at times we all needed it and received it.

For me, this world will be a very different place. Approaching his centennial year last year March, 2018, we all teased him with cricketing analogies: “Hold your crease, Dad!” “Keep your eyes on the ball!” “Don’t get run out!” “Get the century!” Well, he made it. But permit me to extend the analogy, but from a spiritual perspective. He batted well, made the century and is now retired to start his innings again when the Lord comes to take him home. He died on Good Friday, April 19, 2019 as the Sabbath began. Just like he had always done, he took a Sabbath rest to rise on a “Sunday” morning! That was his "Blessed Hope!" Take a break, Daddy! You batted well!

Fighting For Better

I have not posted on this site in quite a while. However, today I was inspired to share the weekly blog that Daryl Tol, President of Florida Hospital (soon to be AdventHealth) writes to all employees. This post, following, is an inspiring look at the journey towards perfection and I share it in its entirety. His story follows:

(Team Update - Week of September 9)

 I was sharing the stage recently with three physician leaders. We were talking about the opportunities we have to do an even better job for customers if we all work together. The audience was made up of a large number of primary care physicians and the engagement was excellent. Except in one of the back corners of the room. In that dark corner, one of the participants was leaning back, arms defensively crossed across his chest, waiting. As soon as it was time for questions and answers, his arm shot into the air. Actually, it may have already been in the air like the early press of the buzzer on Jeopardy.

When acknowledged, it became clear this moment was the entire reason our friend in the back corner had come. He grasped the mic, stood up, pulled the proverbial pin in the grenade and tossed his question into the middle of the room. “Florida Hospital has problems and its leaders are imperfect and as long as this is the case, how dare you ask us for our help making it better?” Actually, that’s a summary of a much longer question. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that line of reasoning and it always gives me pause. Florida Hospital has broken bits so we can’t fix it?

Imagine a patient walking into one of our offices with a broken arm. We look at her and tell her that until she gets that messed up arm in perfect working order, we can’t do anything for her! She’d probably have a few choice words for us because she can’t fix that arm by herself. She needs help. She’s willing, which is why she came in in the first place. But our expertise is the only hope she has. Sending her away unaided would be professional malpractice. No one would stand for this scenario related to a patient, but when it comes to working together as healthcare providers, the water gets muddier.

Now, step back with me from this scenario and think of the choice we’ve all made. The choice is to enter a profession in which all of us, every day, fight for better. We didn’t make the choice to win every battle. We certainly didn’t make the choice to win the war. We made the choice to fight. All of our patients will eventually pass away. We can’t provide eternal life or wipe away suffering and tears. We tell people they should exercise, lose weight, or stop smoking. Many don’t take our advice. We deal with the battered and the broken and the imperfect. That includes us. Throw paperwork, technology and regulation into the mix and it all becomes a significant weight on our psyche.

A weight on the psyche has to be dealt with and there are many ways people deal with the weight. One way is to become professional critics. There is an oddity in our human nature that if we can look at the other and point out his or her faults we can avoid our own sense of struggle, imperfection and loss. We can actually feel better because at least we aren’t as bad as…you. But, self-delusion doesn’t have a long-term healing effect and eventually becomes its own kind of weight. There is no nobility in being the sideline critic. Frustration and burnout are the inevitable result.

There is a healthier way to deal with the weight: First, accept the reality that you are fighting for inches, pushing a heavy ball forward. Second, realize that you are not up to the fight alone and that any weight is lifted more easily by a team. God made us to fight battles together, not apart. He made us smarter together. He made us stronger together. He made us more resilient together. He made life more fun when it’s lived together. Even though we live in an isolating time, it is still true that we are better together. That will always be true.

Every step toward our potential will take work. Some of the steps will take years of work. Some may not be completed in our lifetime. Imperfection is built in. Frustration will be part of the journey. There will be sweat on the floor. But there is nobility in this work. There is meaning in this work. It takes courage and commitment and trust and an undying willingness to lean on each other. The reward is progress and resilience and relationship.

Thank you for joining me in my imperfection to fight for better. I’m proud to stand beside you.

Daryl Tol