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memories from canada

October 30, 2014

We were very sorry to hear of Eric's passing.  We particularly remember when Eric and Lynette with Doug, Marlene and family came here to Victoria for our reunion of Lynette's family, the Laundys, in the late 80s.  We really enjoyed getting to know Eric and appreciated his genuine interest in the family history.  We were really grateful for the research he did on Lynnette's father, Dave's great uncle Lynne and his service in World War 1.  We learned a lot from Eric, particularly on the taking of Vimy Ridge by the Canadians in 1917 for which Lynne was awarded the Military Cross.   

Wish he'd brought that banjo to the reunion!  We will miss his newsy and witty Christmas letters.

Lynette, we are thinking of you and your four sons and their families.

Sincerely,  Dave and Janet Laundy, Victoria, B.C.

 

A story from Jenna Nelson

September 9, 2014

My condolences to the whole family especially to Aunty Lynnette. I don't know if Uncle Eric talked about this but the first time I met Uncle Eric was during their visit to Maui not to long after we moved there. During the dinner Uncle Eric and I got into an exciting conversation about American history. At the end of it he gave me advice about my passion of history. Either I study history and become a teacher at the college level or become a geologist. I hope sharing this helps during this time.

Music and dancing

September 9, 2014

After I was married to Doug one of the first things I learned about my new father in law was something he had in common with my own father-they both loved music and they both loved to dance. My new husband certainly shared that love of music but not so much the love of dancing, and I remember at our wedding when my father in law and I danced for the first time, after I had just danced with Doug, he whispered "Don't worry, Marlene, you don't have to count for me." A few years later I asked him to give me a quick lesson in the jitterbug, and he was happy to oblidge. He found some headphones and plugged them in a cassette deck and he and I danced to big band music which only we could hear. We danced around the living room much to the amusement of Doug and my mother in law who saw the dancing but without the music. And that's one way I'll always remember my father in law-dancing to his own tune.

Passion for Life

September 6, 2014

The best compliment I can give Eric Phillips, my father-in-law, is that he reminded me--in so many ways--of my own father, whom I loved and continue to love dearly.  Like Albert Trotter, Eric was a teacher.  Over the years, I learned so much from Eric--about rocks, about gold searches, about history, about how to fix things...  Eric was always eager to share the latest "gems" he'd uncovered--in books and on the Internet.  And on the sharing part, like my dad, Eric hungered to disseminate knowledge--a sign of a generous soul.  The last time we visited, only 2 weeks ago, I learned that I may be a descendent of the neanderthals--because of my reddish hair--and that might be a good thing!  (Who coulda thought...?)  Eric had a great passion for life, and so right up until his last days, he was reading and writing and exploring.  Like my dad, he made his number one job taking care of his family, and I am so grateful to him for making me feel so included.  I am also eternally grateful to him and Lynn for producing such wonderful sons, each of whom take such great care of their families.  Two weeks ago, just before my husband, stepson and I left him and Lynn to return to NY, we were saying our goodbyes in front of a favorite BBQ restaurant of his when I told him I loved him and Lynn.  I was trying to hide my tears, but not doing such a great job of it.  A few seconds later, as we passed each other on our way to our respective cars, Eric reached out his arm to me and grabbed my hand--a gesture that will always mean a tremendous deal to me.  I felt seen and understood.  That was our last goodbye.        

Things my father's father taught me

September 6, 2014

Grandad taught me how to ride a bike.

My brother, Bryant, and I visited Gran and Grandad frequently growing up. I don't remember how many times, but the trips that we made by ourselves, so exciting for two little boys, are now some of my fondest summer memories. Their house in San Ramone was a constant in my childhood life; the grandfather clock, old photos in the hallway, little wooden X's hanging in the garage so he knew how far to pull in the cars, and especially the short cycle-path that Grandad built in the back yard. The thought of it reminds me of playing with my cousins while they were still toddlers, hide-and-seek when they were a little older, bocce ball with my aunts and uncles, and of course circling around and around on a tricycles and bicycles. I can still picture the square red bricks, the part where tree roots made it uneven, and the little hill leading down to the lattice-shaded patio.

In the afternoon they would take us to the neighborhood pool. Grandad took two metal nuts from the garage and tied red and blue strings around them. He would throw them in the pool and Bryant and I would energetically dive after them. Adult swim would come around and we’d watch Grandad do laps. I always thought he looked like my dad when he swam; practiced and smooth.

My dad, Doug Phillips, said that he learned to be “steady” from his dad. The steadiness was not just about being calm or dependable or seeing the bigger picture, but also about responsibility. He learned all these from his dad, and I learned them from mine.

Whether it’s the first time without training wheels, or being the responsible man in the room, balance is what my father’s father taught me, and I’m so glad for it.

We love you Grandad, you made this family what it is.

David

 

September 6, 2014

To the Phillips family,

     Please know how much I have had you in my thoughts these past few days. As you all deal with the emptiness, please let me fill it with a few special memories.

     One of my favorite memories is of a camp out with all of us kids and our parents, sitting by the campfire... our dads with guitar and banjo and us on percussion. (Sticks of varying thickness. I seem to remember we even had a xylofone going on in the stick department.) Music was always there...even fooling around on the piano in the livingroom at your house or listening to the latest Beatle album.

     I always enjoyed Erics wry sense of humor and way of telling things like they are. And as a child I was a little facinated by his eyebrows  :) 

   Eric and Lynn sure took the constant goings-ons at your house in stride with all the boys in and out,  neighborhood kids, swim team kids and boyscouts. We all felt welcome in your wonderful home. Endless games of monopoly, loads of unbaked chocolate chip cookie dough consumed, and wild thrashing about in your pool trying to "find the stick".  (A game we invented) Many evenings out on your front porch facing the challenges of truth or dare, kick the can and being called a "woman" when someone didn´t dare. I clearly remember Lynn challenging that and asking whats so horrible about being a woman? 

 My heart goes out to you Lynn at this difficult time. But I know you are one woman who is surrounded by much love.  Dave and Alice and your grandchildren are nearby. This is a true blessing. And thankfully the internet has simplified things quite a bit so keeping in touch with family is easier now. Take care and keep spreading the love, joy and laughter.

Melissa White
Uppsala, Sweden 

 

 

Our Banjo Man

September 5, 2014

ERic was our Banjo Man in the El Dorado Hills Senior FunTime Band.  We did miss him when he retired from our band. we had some great fun and great music and singing with him. He had some corney jokes and sang some funny songs. Also had a great baritone voice. He was such an asset to our band and we all were Band Buddies. So glad when he and Lynn came to our once a year special concert this past Aug. 2nd. He lived life to the fullest and had the greatest gal, Lynn by his side. I suppose he is playing his banjo somewhere in space and we will not get to hear it but we sure will remember him and his banjo. Happy Trails, Eric. The Red Head Singer. 
"Ain't She Sweet", Lazy River, Coney WashBoard, Dream"







 

Things my father taught me

September 4, 2014

I'm like anyone.  By the time you get to be 59 years old you've learned a lot about the world and have mastered a few skills in life.  But I also realize that some of the things I know how to do came from my parents, both mother and father.

My dad taught me early on about tools, wood-working, building things.  We always had some project going on when I was a kid.  I remember building a short wave radio from basic parts - and it worked too!  In my adult life I remodeled two homes, finished basements and bathrooms, built two decks and a thousand other small home projects.  I take pride in my own abilities but the basics came from Dad.

I'm a pretty steady person, never getting overly worked up about anything, taking things in stride.  Some of this is just my personality but some of it is learned and practiced. And quite a bit of that came from Dad.  His advice occurred over a lifetime, but even recently he talked with me about how to handle a thorny issue at work, without drama, but with purpose towards the desired outcome.  Thanks Dad.

And Dad taught me, by example, how to love your wife for a lifetime.  He married my mom in 1950.  Their 64th anniversay was in August.  My wife Marlene and I celebrated our 36th anniversay last June.  Obviously I've got a few more years to catch up to him, but his devotion and attention to my mom lasted their whole lives and I hope I can do the same.

Love you Dad.  I will miss you.
Doug 

Arkansas, college, and Hanover

September 4, 2014

There are too many stories to single out just one, but there's a common thread to my memories of Uncle Eric, and that is his extraordinary support of Ron and me. He and Aunty Lynn always made me feel loved and valued as another family member.

It seemed only right that when Mom and Dad were in Europe for a summer, that Ron and I would go to Houston and stay with the Phillips. At the time, I'm sure I was oblivious to all that they were going through that summer of 1966. They were moving from Tyler, building a new home in Houston, living in a small rental with their 4 sons plus a nephew and niece. Fearless, they took all of us plus the dog (German Shepard?) camping for two weeks in Arkansas. That remains the single positive memory I have of camping. I loved those two weeks at the two separate campsites. The river swimming, the cave explorations, sleeping on cots under the stars. A particularly keen memory is of stopping enroute in Texarkana at some campground where we were the only people there except for a lone man. The boys were off swimming in a lake while Uncle Eric, Aunty Lynn and I set up camp. After talking with the man, Uncle Eric directed Aunty Lynn and me to quietly begin putting things away and to gather up the boys. I don't think he told us until we were out of the park that the man had alarmed him with grisly stories and so he got us all out of there. I remember vividly how safe and protected I felt. 

That same sense was present when I set off for college and began my journey with a solo flight to LA/Bakersfield. It was Aunty Lynn and Uncle Eric who delivered me to my dorm at Occidental and it was in their home that I celebrated Thanksgiving that year with Karen Metcalf, my best friend from Hawaii. Nevermind that they already had a full house; they welcomed us in and then drove us all the way back to LA after the holiday. They even made the effort to visit Jim and me in Hanover when we were first starting out here and gave us an amazingly generous gift to help us when we were a struggling young family.

Uncle Eric's generosity was extraordinary. I will always be grateful for the many ways he showed me I was a beloved family member and his genuine delight in family. I hope he's got a banjo in his hands and is having a grand time.

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