Remembering Sam

It was early November. The leaves on the beautiful oak tree just outside his window which had been a luscious green in the summer had turned to a burnished gold. A sudden gust of wind scattered the leaves and transformed the garden into a golden carpet soon to be swallowed into the soil. Seated by the window, reminiscing on the cycles of nature, Sam remarked that what the earth gives, it also takes back. It was indeed a metaphor. A healthy person, who ran half marathons, Sam did recognize that his indomitable will could not stall the inevitable progression of an illness which had invaded his body. In the early hours of November 22, Sam, reclining on his bed died peacefully with the same courage that he displayed throughout his life.

Sam had three great passions: everything Sri Lankan, anything economics, and an allconsuming devotion to his students. While he lived the better part of the past 30 years in the US, he was well informed and up to-date on all significant developments on the political and socio-economic fronts in Sri Lanka. Thanks to the electronically connected world, he would watch the talk shows, read all the papers, engage people on all sides of the political spectrum to gather information and opinions. He had what he liked to call “informed opinions”.

As an economist, he loved to dabble in numbers. It was justifiably annoying to those who had opposing views, because unlike Sam they would not have the numbers at their fingertips to back up their arguments. While he did believe that political behavioural preferences could not be explained by socio-economic numbers, he idealistically clung on to the hope that logic and rationality would ultimately prevail.

He loved teaching and the many accolades he received from generations of his students, both at the University of Peradeniya, his alma mater, and at Tulane University in the US, attest to the high esteem he enjoyed among them. He rejoiced in their professional successes taking pride in their leadership roles in banking, administration, international development and in academia.

In common with all human beings, Sam had his share of shortcomings. One that stood out was his annoyance, bordering on intolerance, with people who fell short of his own high standards of hard work and his relentless attention to detail. He tried to push people who did not want to be pushed: period. He thrived on engaging people on politics, especially of Sri Lankan politics, not really recognizing that if there are five people arguing about politics in Sri Lanka there would be more than five opinions and nobody, himself included, would give way.

Sam thought ’big”. However, his rhetoric and vision did not always meet reality. His siblings laughingly relate this story of how Sam as a schoolboy, built a big Vesak “kuduwa” only to find that he could not get it out of the front door! His biggest disappointment in his professional life was when he decided to leave an institution that he helped to build over a period of nearly 25 years. But being Sam, once he took the decision he did not look back.

His mother, Padma Kumari Samarasinghe was Sam’s hero. Left a widow with a young family, and a meagre widow’s pension to survive on, she steered the family to calmer shores. Sam was extremely proud of her courage and resilience in guiding all her children to become highly placed professionals as adults. She was lovingly taken care of by her children in return and lived a long and fruitful life. When she died a few years ago, she was well into her 90s.

Sam’s love of gardening came from his mother. He had such fond memories of helping his mom to grow, in the salubrious climate of Peradeniya, a variety of vegetables to feed the family. Sam spent many hours planning, planting, and tending his own garden, often trying to set up devices to keep away the squirrels, rabbits, and the occasional deer from eating his flowers and tomatoes. That, though, was not one of the battles he won.

Sam had numerous acquaintances but a few close friends, most of them Sri Lankans. Their greatest gift to him was that they continued to have long conversations with him about Sri Lanka, even when he was physically weak. Sam never lost his sense of curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

He was Aiyya, the older brother, respected and adored by his younger siblings. A few of them overcame COVID restrictions to fly across borders to be with Aiyya during the last weeks of his life. Sam’s greatest pride and joy came from his two sons, Mevan and Ranmal and their families. It was with immeasurable delight that Sam responded to his two granddaughters, Eliya and Noralie, when they came running to him shouting “Seeya”.

Well! how do I know all this? I should, shouldn’t I? I was married to him for 50 years. Last July on our 50th wedding anniversary when I said 50 years and counting, he quietly responded, “It will soon be stop counting.”