Eulogy for James Rowe as read by Jim's sister Marion at Jim's funeral on Friday, 19th September, 2008 at Kelvin Grove, Brisbane.

Our Brother, Uncle, Friend and Mate.

Our Jim – our Jimbo, was born James Craig Rowe in September 1952 to our parents, Bell and Jack, at St George, in Queensland of course, as we all knew around State of Origin time, particularly if you are a cockroach and support the hated blues.

Our sister Helen arrived a few years later to a delighted Jim, his first mate, someone to play with, to climb fences, chase the animals, play games and all in bare feet.

I arrived a couple of years later. A true disappointment to Jim, I liked dolls, played indoors, and always wore shoes. But I suspect Jim, always alert to an opportunity, never early to discard, marked me for future use - "Potential Friend".

Our Mum always said she knew from the start, this was a gregarious smart boy. He was to be our free spirit. He shared a strong bond with our mother who set the foundations early for Jim’s lifelong thirst for knowledge and learning on the widest range of subjects. We didn’t need google we had Jim.

There was Jim running between each street light to read his book, as we caught up, walking home from our weekly visit to the Bulimba library, back to 63 Bilyana Street, the house we called home.

Jim was an aussie kid of the 50’s and 60’s, we were working class, and Jim was proud of it, as he climbed the hill to Bulimba State School, to pull on a footy jumper or pad up to bat. His love for sport, all thing sport, started then and never stopped.

Those Bilyana Street days were true “cricket in the back yard” or, when Mum and Dad had had enough, in the spare Council allotment next to 63 known to all of us as “the Lane”.

Jimmy Rowe and his mates played the game, if they were short a man, Helen would get the call.

The gift our parents gave us was to make sure we had an education, the first really big wave of working class kids, who were going to universities. Jim was on that wave, and Jim did his part.

He got himself into Brisbane State High, which was no mean feat in the 60’s. He won a scholarship to the University of Queensland. Dad was proud, Mum was relieved – she didn’t know where she would have found the money, but she would have.

University in the ‘70’s’ was the place to be, lots of friends, freedom from parental constraints, just the place for, a maths science student, who had studied latin and French, to sharpen his card skills, work on his lightning sense of humour, expand his sporting interests, lay the foundations for some serious lifelong partying, start that lifetime love of music, get serious about surfing, - and the personality grew, the free spirit blossomed.

No lack of ability for our Jim just a lack of passion for studying something his heart wasn’t in it. There were so many other things to learn, so many friendships to make. Jim made deep long lifetime friends and mates.

But he knew he had to work to secure him in his pursuit of his dreams and, contrary to popular belief, Jim was capable of working.

Having marked me “for future use potential friend” he checked in with me about this accounting gig that I had chosen. I told him it was pretty easy, he could do it easily, and it could fit his needs. Only one big drawback he may have to deal with clients.

Luckily for Jim, after stints at various places, including some very important years in PNG, working, running, diving and partying. Jim found himself the perfect place to work for the next 20 years. A place where he could work and surf.

Working in Stafford here in Brisbane, max 4 days, (40 chargeable hours), a week and surfing on the coast the other days.

Everyone had a nickname, Jim’s address book is unfathomable. His nephew and nieces did not escape, Jim would often ask me – “how are the coppertops”.

Jim was self assured, perfecting the work and surf mantra, extending the surf component to 2 to 3 months in Sri Lanka for some years, stints in Japan, Costa Rica and other locations and then settling on Bali for the annual ritual where he became part of the local fabric.

Many of us envied this but never had the courage to execute.

But, here for Jim there was only one coast, our south coast where Saturday the surfing community will farewell Jim in their own magical way on the water.

While, here today, we landlubbers do that.

The part of Marion's eulogy written by Jim's niece Angela is here

Cam Hay's eulogy is here

Photos from Jim's funeral here soon.