TRIBUTES and tears will flow, Mr. Editor, with the news of the death of Dame Lois Browne-Evans. Dame Lois earned them both, the old-fashioned way: by her hard-work, by her drive and by her determination, for the causes in which she believed and for which she fought so fearlessly and passionately, but above-all for the affection she always showed for Bermuda and all of her people.I have already gone on record elsewhere this week, acknowledging the great contribution which Dame Lois has made, declaring her to be a champion and mother to many, if not all.

She was a champion because she fought so fearlessly and so passionately over the years for those without representation, and without voice, the great majority of whom were our black Bermudian sisters and brothers. But her battles and her successes were not restricted to any one group. Dame Lois fought so that rights and justice could be extended to us all.

She was mother to all because she was able to advance her causes in a style, and with an eloquence, that was both colourful yet down to earth, in a language that the average man and woman could understand, and to which, most importantly, they could easily relate. It was disarming, and it was affectionate, and it was effective.

There was an embrace to her reach which was difficult, if not impossible to resist: whether you agreed with her or not.

This is what made Dame Lois a formidable advocate whatever the arena.

It is also what made her real. Dame Lois came by those skills naturally and she was as genuine as the day is long.

Now, one of the great things about a life in politics, Mr. Editor - and there are some, believe me - are the friendships combatants can form across party lines.

Dame Lois was very good at that too.

Our friendship - despite our differences in years - dates back to when I started out as a young political reporter back in the mid-’70s. Dame Lois was Leader of the Opposition and we enjoyed a good working relationship.

But it wasn’t the first time we met, as Dame Lois reminded me, when I attended one of her book-signings for Lois: Bermuda’s Grand Dame of Politics by J. Randolf Williams.

I must have been eighteen years old at the time, home from university, and I was checking out the House on the Hill, to which my father had just been elected in 1968.

Here is what Dame Lois wrote in a short note inside the book back in November 2001:

“To John

“The ‘long-haired’ son of the Speaker. Do you remember him?

“Well this is dedicated to him. I was flattered when the Speaker said that his son wanted to meet the (then) rebellious leader PLP Deputy Leader of the Opposition. How years make us mellow with age. However, even though we have taken different forks in the road I count you as still a friend in this place, in which in spite of much of the efforts by individuals we tend to remain divided. C’est la vie.

“We can still be friends. I trust that, having been a journalist, a writer, you will enjoy Randi’s book. You know about the political subject but now you can read about what shaped ‘the subject’.

“Have fun reading and digesting.

“P.S. You just missed the ‘signed on this the third anniversary of the PLP’s election at the polls’. That’s what I wrote in the books yesterday the 9th - but now you have the postscript also!”

Such, Mr. Editor, was the nature of our friendship.

Dame Lois would always get her shots in, her little digs, and so often with a smile and a twinkle in her eye - which is not to say that I didn’t try to get my own back. But Dame Lois understood. “Look, politics is not a Sunday school picnic”: it was one of her many famous lines.

But friends we were too, to the end. I am grateful for having known her and I shall miss her.

I remember well one of our clashes on the floor of the House. Dame Lois was complaining about her critics who would bring her family into their criticism, and moments later lit into me, and complained that I was becoming too conservative while my family had a track-record for being more liberal.

"Mr. Speaker, point of order", I shouted out. "The Honourable Member complains about how we should not bring our families into this and yet she does this to me - and what's worse is that she does it to make me out to be the black sheep of my family".

Even Dame Lois laughed. The point was made and taken.

Friends we were, to the end. I am grateful for having known her and I shall miss her.

PS I want to also acknowledge the contribution which her family made: husband, John, and children, Donald, Tina and Nadine, and more recently her grandchildren.

The support and love of a family is required when a wife, mother and grandmother devotes a lifetime to politics and the service of others.

Thank you too, Mr. Editor, for finding the extra space this week so I could pen my own personal tribute. Call it “The Dame and I”!