Good morning family and friends. Thank you for coming to see my father, Mr Ong Huat Choon, for the last time. To many of you gathered here today, my father was a jovial, fiercely independent, music and art-lover, always ready to give you the 101 lesson on his arowana fishes, some Chinese porcelain vase or even a brief introduction to the many clocks and coins he has collected over the years. To those in the family, he’s the brother or uncle who might have told you about some mathematical formulae he spent time proving or some creative book-keeping methods he had used in his work. He might have entertained you with stories of how his childhood was spent on the streets of Tanjong Pagar with his friends, Uncle Lim and Uncle Tay, or his school days with Uncle Chong, Uncle Wong, Uncle Seah and Uncle Francis. Perhaps you have heard the “Mr. Ong, number 2 in the far east” story about how he worked his way up to be the financial controller of a Germany company. But ...