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5 years
Submitted by adele on Wed, 05/17/2023 - 03:11:PM

James “Bunny” Aung Thin (James Tin) was born in London, England on January 1, 1929 to Sarah Dhar and Maung Ba Tin and spent his formative years in Rangoon, Burma.

When Burma was invaded during World War 2, the Dhars evacuated to India, with young Jimmy watching for U-boats on the crossing. During the war, Jim attended St Joseph’s Academy in Dehradun, where his intellectual curiosity, off-beat sense of humour and love of chess were encouraged.  In 1947, he returned to a Burma devastated by bombing. As university placements were scarce, Jim travelled to England in 1948 to study finance, economics and accounting.  He subsequently joined the Institute of Chartered Accountants in England and Wales in 1955.  

Jim returned to Burma in 1955 and joined the Burmah Oil Company, where he worked on the senior executive for eight years. Burma was booming at this time and Rangoon was known for its lively social life. It was at a Rangoon cocktail party that he met Pamela Brady.  They married in 1961 and their first child, Michelle Diane, was born the following year.  In 1962 Burma’s government was overthrown by the military.  James and Pam made the difficult decision to leave their home and immigrated to Canada, leaving behind beloved family members, friends and a comfortable, familiar life. They would never return to Burma.

Jim and his young family first settled in Edmonton then moved to Ottawa for more promising career prospects. Once in Ottawa, they welcomed their first son, Peter James, followed by Pamela Anne. Following an initial series of “survivor jobs” a federal public service position came up in 1966.  

In 1967, Jim and Pam bought their first and only home in Blackburn Hamlet.  They met many of their lifelong friends in the neighbourhood, forming a strong sense of community in Ottawa.  A few years later, their youngest son, George Mathew, was born.

Jim and Pam took to Canadian life with enthusiasm, bringing the kids to Camp Fortune for ski lessons, skating on the Rideau Canal, purchasing cross country skis and snowshoes for the family to discover the greenbelt, and exploring local traditions like “Sugaring Off”. The family frequented Ottawa’s many festivals, parks and museums and spent summers renting lakeside cottages, ultimately purchasing a lot on lac Cayamant where Jim fulfilled his dream of building and owning his own cottage.

Jim’s career thrived with various roles in Supply & Services and the Canada Council and he became a Fellow of the Institute of Chartered Accountants in 1978. His innate curiosity manifested through the early adoption of computers and other technologies. Despite his deepening roots in Canada, he held on to many Burmese comforts and traditions. In the morning, he would leave for work in western business clothes, but would change into a traditional, and more comfortable Burmese longyi evenings and weekends. He often spoke Burmese at home with his wife and mother, Sarah Dahr, who lived with the family and whom he and Pam cared for until her passing in 1987. He was an excellent cook and made all the traditional Burmese dishes that his growing family learned to love and prepare, although no one can cook quite like dad. He had a high intellect, spoke English, Burmese and learned French and was well versed in geo-politics, cultural traditions and history. He loved nothing better than to listen to and opine on the latest news while practicing physics and calculus problems on a chalk board. He also loved travel – Greece was his favourite destination – and photography, with trips relived on family slide nights.  Other favourite pastimes included an active charades group, bible study group and shows at the Ottawa Little Theatre.  An annual favourite tradition was New Year’s dinner dances with close friends, first ringing in the New Year at midnight and then celebrating his birthday on January 1st. He enjoyed watching tennis and football and his birthday was often a low-key affair with the television tuned in to US college bowl football games.

Over the decades, his family continued to grow, and he welcomed first daughter-in-law Nancy Stoughton (Peter), followed by sons-in-law François Leclerc (Pam), Warren Schnider (Michelle) and daughter-in-law Jenny Lane (George). All were welcomed warmly into the home of Jim and Pam and the old and new traditions of a Canadian-Burmese family were embraced with equal warmth. Shortly after his retirement in 1995, the next generation of the family began to arrive, to Jim’s sheer excitement and delight. Alexandre and Sierra in Quebec (Pam and François), Julian in Australia (Michelle and Warren) and Mattie and Lucy in British Columbia (George and Jenny). Jim revelled in his role as grandfather, never missing a school play, graduation, or dance recital at home, and giving him the perfect excuse to travel further, including trips to British Columbia and Australia. He always found time for his grandchildren who found their “baba-gee” to be loving, generous, timeless with a little bit of that off-beat humour held over from his youth.  In his later years, Jim’s daily pleasures were held closer to home including live opera telecasts, gourmet cooking, and investment tips traded with his children and grandchildren. These good times included many family dinners and hours spent in the garden.

Jim passed away on February 28, 2023 after a brief illness. In his final months, he wanted nothing more than to be with his wife of over 50 years and ensure she was well taken care of. His last visits with his grandchildren were precious to him and he always made sure they had enough pocket money to enjoy the small pleasures in life.  Our gratitude goes to the staff of the Montfort Hospital and Forest Valley Terrace and his community caregivers for their careful attention and empathetic care in Jim’s last few months.  Jim is survived by his wife, Pam, his children Michelle (Warren Shnider), Peter (Nancy Stoughton), Pam (François Leclerc) and George (Jenny) and his grandchildren, Alexandre, Sierra, Julian, Mattie and Lucy. Bunny, daddy, baba-gee, Jim, you will be deeply missed by your wife, family and friends.

The garden where you sit 
Has never a need of flowers
For you are the blossoms
And only a fool or the blind
Would fail to know it

~ Louis de Bernières

A celebration of James’s life will be held on Friday July 21st, 1:00 pm, at the Beechwood Cemetery. Friends are welcome to attend the funeral service and reception.

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Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Fri, 05/19/2023 - 08:08:PM

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Sarah Mainguy

This is such a beautiful, touching tribute to Jim and a life clearly well lived! I learned so much about him and the entire Aung Thin clan reading it. I am grateful for his long life, and for the beautiful family that he and Pam raised, especially for the friendship that I have enjoyed with Peter and Nancy for decades, and for the legacy that he leaves behind. May you all carry forward his keen intellect and spirit. I am grateful to have known him. Much love to you all!

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Tue, 05/23/2023 - 06:54:PM

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Barbara Perrault

A beautiful tribute to a very fine man. Jim and Pam were a lovely couple and treated each other with so much love and respect. We were neighbours in Blackburn Hamlet, and Pam and I were involved in all sorts of activities together. A coincidence, George and his wife now live in my home town of Mission BC! My condolences to the entire Aung Thin clan, give Pam a big hug for me.

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Mon, 06/05/2023 - 06:58:AM

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Ian Cully

Pam is my cousin and Bunny (as I used to know him in Burma) was my cousin-in-law. His obituary is a tribute to its authors – prose of pristine quality and so true to the man. When I was a boy growing up in Rangoon, Pam and Bunny’s match was very much a high-society calendar event, and bitter-sweet for me, as this man was taking my beloved Pam away. He noticed, and soon won me over, as he did with everybody. Most of all, I remember the way he lit up all around him and how privileged people felt to know this bright, cultured, interesting young man who was obviously going places. He was charming – he could chivvy you, make you laugh, and most of all he made your world a happier place.
I will tell you a story about Bunny that none of you knows. He and Pam had accompanied her parents (George and Val), and mine, on a family visit to my Aunt Beryl and Uncle John’s little house in Rangoon – Val, my Mum and Beryl were sisters.
For some reason, Uncle John was extremely depressed that day and determined to put a blight on everything. The males sat mooning on the small front porch listening to Uncle John’s bitter reflections on the world whilst the three sisters moped indoors. Eventually, Bunny cut through the moaning and groaning to address Uncle John. And that’s the first time I realized that Bunny had a lot more to him than most other men I have met in my life.
Grumpy, morose, bad-tempered Uncle John first stared, and then started listening to Bunny, who was spouting on and on about getting out of the dumps by getting rich through inventing something original and living the life of Reilly off the copyright royalties, a notion that seemed to greatly appeal to Uncle John, especially the life-of-Reilly bit.
My Dad and Uncle George looked on sceptically.
But my enthusiastic young cousin drove on, stimulating a now-galvanised Uncle John into coming up with dreadfully impractical and ridiculous ideas for new inventions, like a hot butter-knife filled with boiling water for frozen, refrigerated butter, or growing cabbages and brussels sprouts in air-tight bowls and bottling the escaping gas. Uncle John, by now getting more into his stride (but at least partly out of his depression) was encouraged to make a list of all the things he didn’t like in life. This took quite a bit of time because Uncle John took exception to a pretty vast number of things.
In the end, it was a mighty long list – but his favourite hate was toothpaste, because you could never get the last bit out of the tube. Bunny’s eyes lit up at hearing this, and he soon steered Uncle John towards tinned sardine cans, the ones you opened with a little stick-like key that rolled the cover off. Uncle John rushed off for pen and paper and started composing a copyright filing. He intended to take his application to Government House after the weekend to secure his invention - a sardine-tin type key on the end of toothpaste tubes to roll out every last bit of paste in the tube.
Uncle John wasn’t depressed any more, just very excited. Obviously, no copyright was ever granted because the sardine-can manufacturer had already invented the key – but the object of the exercise wasn’t to make Uncle John rich, just to get him out of a mind-numbing depression, which Dad and Uncle George and the rest of the family couldn’t do.
But Bunny succeeded.
And he’d done the whole thing so effortlessly, gracefully, kindly, and naturally. If it hadn’t been the sardine-can toothpaste key, it would have been something else. Like I said above, when there was rain, Bunny made the sun shine. This gift is bestowed on very few of us.
He wasn’t just good – he was great.

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Tue, 06/20/2023 - 11:39:AM

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June LeValliant

Mr AungThin, so sad that you are no longer with us. You gave a new perspective to things as broad ranging as the world of politics to the simple pleasure of eating a chilli. Oh yes! Those hot chillies that you warned me about, taunting me in to taking a bite! As a kid from the suburbs of Ottawa it was delightful to meet people with different backgrounds and experiences of our shared world. Thanks for sharing the good times. I know your are deeply missed.

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Wed, 06/21/2023 - 03:03:AM

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Cheryl Grave

I met Jim and his new wife Pam whilst on a visit to Rangoon,Burma. They had just returned from honeymoon coming back to be in time to celebrate my grandmother’s 80th birthday.
As a young child under 10, I was in awe of this handsome guy who had won the heart of my very pretty cousin, Pam. I was even more bowled over when I was exclusively invited to stay overnight at their house!!!
Many years later, I had the opportunity to visit and spend some time with Pam and Jim at their house in Ottawa. I visited with my husband and daughter and right from the start, they made us feel so much at home. I was in awe again of this man who could talk with gravity on any subject. The physics problems he was working through on the blackboard in his study were mind boggling!!! We also were able to laugh a lot with his jokes and stories. When my parents had both passed away, Jim soon became my go to person for advice and support when I was in need. He would come through with solid advice, always couched with positivity. I was very grateful for this.
To me Jim was the perfect example of someone who grasped life with both hands; he designed it rather than letting it design him.
We miss you Jim and you will remain in our hearts,
With much love from us,
Cheryl, Steve and Kimberley xxxxxx

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Wed, 06/21/2023 - 02:55:PM

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Liz and Larry Lane

We would like to send our respects in tribute to Jim: he was truly a fine gentleman, and will be missed : his wit and humour captured us all, and both he and Pam welcomed the “ Lanes “ into their Family. His many adventures led to a full and remarkable life. Our love goes out to Pam and the entire Family as we all remember a Great Husband, Father and Grandfather.

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Wed, 06/21/2023 - 05:14:PM

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Colin and Yevgeniya Brady

Jim was a wonderful kind family man. He worked hard all of his life providing for his family. He gave education to all his children and guided them to succeed in life. He managed a small garden but was an excellent cook and philosopher. I always respected his opinions. Jim is very much missed.

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Tue, 06/27/2023 - 06:38:PM

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Christine Havey

My deepest sympathy at this time. I have so many fond childhood memories of our family's time together on Parkridge Crescent and beyond - running around on the street and in your back yard, Sunday family adventures, your Dad's cooking finesse and of course, most recently, ringing in the New Year on Mr. Aung Thin's (as I still always referred to him as!) birthday. He will be remembered for the twinkle in his eye, his quick wit and gentle demeanour.

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Thu, 07/06/2023 - 11:27:PM

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Diana and Wal Close

It was with great sadness when we heard about Jim's death.
It was in the year 2000 that we first met when he and Pam visited Australia for the birth of their grandson Julian. The short visit was a wonderful opportunity for us to appreciate our new extended family in Canada. Michelle, our daughter-in-law has kept us updated through the years of all the wonderful developments there.
Our sincere condolences to you all.

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Thu, 07/13/2023 - 08:41:AM

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George Aung Thin

Dear Dad,
I love you and I miss you, though in many ways I feel you’re still here with me. I see you in Michelle, Pete and Pam Anne. They all have your flair for fashion, your immense generosity and your love of life. Michelle has your scholarly ways, Pete has your gourmet abilities, and Pam Anne has your sense for rightness (which is knowing the right things to say at the right time).
I also have my many memories of you – climbing your belly when I was just a toddler while you were napping in the sun. Laughing uproariously together watching Laurel and Hardy, playing chess, our travels together (especially Portugal and Greece, Cuba and Dominica). Reading the same books then discussing the stories, the characters and what it all meant. Drive in movies. Road trips – that time you and Mr Birta tried to figure out how everyone could ‘cleanly’ drink from the one bottle of pop that we brought. Building the cottage with you Mom and Pete (while fetching us a tool, I returned to discover a rabbit talking to your foot – “You’re Bunny and I’m a bunny. We should be friends!”). University days (I lived comfortably at home and shared my lessons with you). Touring England together when I lived there. The joy you took in welcoming Jenny into the family and your delight when Mattie and Lucy were born.
A remembrance I’d like to share here is our drives to fencing. I started fencing when I was eleven years old and went on well beyond university. You were always willing to drive me there and pick me up – twice a week, then three or four times a week as I advanced. You did the driving for many years until I was almost seventeen. Those drives were long, but they grew into our special time together. Sometimes we’d sit in companionable silence, sometimes we’d have conversations. We covered a broad range of topics. Our talks could be fairly ordinary while others were mind-expanding – but they were all interesting and comforting. You’d pose questions to challenge a young mind – like what’s the difference between fame and notoriety? We’d discuss strategy, tactics and how chess gambits could be applied to fencing. We’d talk about our philosophies of life, morality and integrity; what to value, who to be. We’d talk about books. I think you knew how important and meaningful those long drives and those long conversations were even if I didn’t. Years later I discovered there was a shorter way to drive and realized you had chosen the long way around every time.
God bless you and keep you, Dad, I’ll see you in my dreams until we meet again.

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